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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:40:10 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:40:10 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12515-0.txt b/12515-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9e051d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/12515-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13497 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12515 *** + +SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS + +(XV-XIX CENTURIES) + + +ARRANGED BY + +M. DUCKITT & H. WRAGG + + +1913. + + + + +PREFACE + + +This anthology has been compiled with rather mixed motives. First, +'all for our delight'--a rule that editors sometimes observe, and +occasionally acknowledge; then, with the desire to interest as large +a section of the public as may be. Here is a medley of gay, grave, +frivolous, homely, religious, sociable, refined, philosophic, and +feminine,--something for every mood, and for the proper study +of mankind. We do not hope to satisfy all critics, but we do not +anticipate that we shall please none. Our difficulty has been that +of choice. Many pleasant companions we have had to pass by; to strike +from our list many excellent letters. Those that remain are intended +to present as complete a portrait of the writer as space permits. +Occasionally it was some feature of the age, some nicety of manners, +some contrast in point of view, that obtained inclusion. + +Into such an anthology the ordinary reader prefers to dip at random, +looking for old friends or new faces, and has his reward. But if he +is resolute to read letters in chronological order, he will also, +we hope, find in our selection some trace of the development of the +Epistolary art, as, rising through earlier naiveties and formalities +to the grace and _bel air_ of the great Augustans, it slides into the +freer, if less dignified, utterance of an age which, startled by cries +of 'Equality' at its birth, has concerned itself less with form than +with individuality and sincerity of expression. + +Three letters are included of which the originals were penned +in Latin. In a few cases the spelling and punctuation have been +modernized. + +Our best thanks are due to Mr. J.C. Smith, whose kind criticism and +inspiring suggestions have been of inestimable service to us in the +preparation of this work. + +M.D. H.W. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +SIR THOMAS MORE, 1478-1535-- +To Margaret Roper. 'Wyth a cole' from prison. + +MARGARET ROPER, 1505-1544-- +To Sir Thomas More. Reply to the above. + +ROGER ASCHAM, 1515-1568-- +To Lady Jane Grey. A most accomplished maiden. +To Lady Clarke. An offer of assistance. + +FRANCIS BACON, 1561-1626-- +To Sir Thomas Bodley. With a copy of his book. + +SIR THOMAS BROWNE, 1605-1682-- +To his son Thomas. Fatherly commendations. +To his son Edward. Centenarians. + +JOHN MILTON, 1608-1674-- +To a Cambridge friend. The choice of a profession. +To Leonard Philaras. The blind poet. + +JOHN EVELYN, 1620-1706-- +To Samuel Pepys. In retirement at Wotton. +To the same. An old man's occupations. + +DAME DOROTHY BROWNE, 1621-1685-- +To her daughter in London. Three interesting +postscripts. + +GEORGE, LORD BERKELEY, 1628-1698-- +To Samuel Pepys. Honourable acquittal. + +DOROTHY OSBORNE, 1628-1698-- +To Sir William Temple. Passing the time. +To the same. Another pretender. +To the same. A disappointing preacher. +To the same. The ideal husband. +To the same. The growth of friendship. +To the same. Wilful woman. + +KATHARINE PHILIPS, 1631-1664-- +To the Honourable Berenice. Yielding to opinion. + +JOHN LOCKE, 1632-1704-- +To William Molyneux. A philosopher's confidences. +To Dr. Molyneux. True friendship. + +SAMUEL PEPYS, 1633-1703-- +To George, Lord Berkeley. An explanation. +To Mrs. Steward. A wedding in the City. +To John Evelyn. Reply to an old friend. + +JONATHAN SWIFT, 1667-1745-- +To Stella. The Dean at home. +To Lord Treasurer Oxford. The Dean makes his bow. +To Dr. Sheridan. News from the country. +To Alexander Pope. Mostly about _Gulliver_. +To John Gay. Enquiries into Mr. Gay's pursuits. + +JOSEPH ADDISON, 1672-1719-- +To Alexander Pope. Translation of Homer. +To Mr. Secretary Craggs. A bequest. + +SIR RICHARD STEELE, 1672-1729-- +To Mary Scurlock. An explicit declaration. +To the same. A pleasing transport. +To the same. A lover betrays himself. +To his wife. He proposes an outing. +To the same. His greatest affliction. +To the same. Four characteristic notes. +To the same. The natural slave of beauty. + +JOHN GAY, 1685-1732-- +To Jonathan Swift. Concerning _Gulliver_. + +ALEXANDER POPE, 1688-1744-- +To William Wycherley. Dryden and his critics. +To Joseph Addison. A few thoughts from a rambling head. +To Jonathan Swift. Friends to posterity. +To the same. A farming friend, and _The Dunciad_. +To the same. An invitation to England. + +SAMUEL RICHARDSON, 1689-1761-- +To Miss Mulso. A discussion on love. + +LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU, 1689-1762-- +To the Countess of Mar. The Viennese court. +To Miss Sarah Chiswell. Ingrafting for small-pox. +To the Countess of Bristol. The Grand Signior a slave. +To the Countess of Mar. The Grand Vizier's lady. +To the Countess of Bute. Her grand-daughter's education. +To the same. Fielding and Steele. + +PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE, EARL OF CHESTERFIELD, 1694-1773-- +To his son. Dancing. +To the same. A good enunciation. +To the same. Keeping accounts. +To the same. A father's example. +To the same. Public speaking. +To the same. The new Earl of Chatham. + +SAMUEL JOHNSON, 1709-1784-- +To Bonnet Langton. Postponement of a visit. +To Miss Porter. A mother's death. +To Joseph Baretti. A letter of counsel. +To Mrs. Thrale. Travel in Scotland. +To the Earl of Chesterfield. Patronage. +To James Boswell. A silent friend. +To Mrs. Thrale. A great man's fortitude. + +LAURENCE STERNE, 1713-1768-- +To Miss Lumley. The disconsolate lover. +To David Garrick. Le Chevalier Shandy. +To Mr. Foley. An adventure on the road. + +THOMAS GRAY, 1716-1771-- +To Richard West. Scenery at Tivoli. +To the same. A poet's melancholy. +To Horace Walpole. The fate of Selima. +To the same. Publication of the _Elegy_. +To the same. At Burnham. +To the Rev. William Mason. The Laureateship. +To Dr. Wharton. A holiday in Kent. + +HORACE WALPOLE, 1717-1797-- +To Richard West. Floods in the Arno. +To Richard Bentley. Pictures, and Garrick. +To Lord Lyttelton. Gray's Odes. +To George Montagu. At Lady Suffolk's. +To Lady Hervey. A quiet life. +To the Rev. William Cole. Gray's death. +To the Rev. William Mason. The quarrel with Gray. +To the Countess of Upper-Ossory. Fashionable intelligence. +To the Rev. William Cole. Antiquaries and authors. +To the Miss Berrys. Their first meeting. + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 1728-1774-- +To his mother. At Cork. +To Robert Bryanton. In Scotland. +To his uncle Contarine. In Holland. +To his brother Henry. Family matters. + +WILLIAM COWPER, 1731-1800-- +To the Rev. John Newton. Escapade of Puss. +To the Rev. William Unwin. A laugh that hurts nobody. +To the Rev. John Newton. Village politicians. +To the same. Village justice. +To the same. A candidate's visit. +To Lady Hesketh. An acquaintance reopened. +To the same. The kindliness of thanks. +To the same. Arrival of the desk. +To the same. Anticipations of a visit. +To the same. Commissions and thanks. +To Mrs. Bodham. His mother's portrait. + +EDMUND BURKE, 1729-1797-- +To Matthew Smith. First impressions of London. +To James Barry. A friend's infirmities. +To Lord Auckland. An old stag at bay. +To Mary Leadbeater. His last letter. + +EDWARD GIBBON, 1737-1794-- +To Mrs. Porten. His daily life. +To Lord Sheffield. A great work. + +FRANCES D'ARBLAY, 1752-1840-- +To Susan Burney. An excited Unknown. +To Samuel Crisp. Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson. +To Mrs. Lock. A royal commission. + +GEORGE CRABBE, 1754-1832-- +To Mary Leadbeater. The only survivors. +To the same. Comparisons. + +WILLIAM BLAKE, 1757-1827-- +To John Flaxman. Friends 'from eternity'. +To Thomas Butts. Trouble in the path. +To the same. The wonderful poem. +To the same. The poet and William Hayley. + +MARY LEADBEATER, 1758-1826-- +To Edmund Burke. Reply to his last letter. +To George Crabbe. She writes to remind him. + +ROBERT BURNS, 1759-1796-- +To Miss Chalmers. Marriage with Jean. +To Mr. R. Ainslie. A gauger. +To Francis Grose. Witch tales. + +WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 1770-1850-- +To Sir George Beaumont. A brother's character. +To Walter Scott. Dryden. +To Lady Beaumont. The destiny of his poems. +To Sir George Beaumont. The language of poetry. + +SIR WALTER SCOTT, 1771-1832-- +To his mother. Marriage with Miss Carpenter. +To Miss Seward. _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_. +To Lady Louisa Stuart. An amiable blue-stocking. +To Robert Southey. Congratulations. +To J.B.S. Morritt. A small anonymous sort of a novel. +To the same. Acceptance of a baronetcy. +To Lord Montagu. Prince Leopold's visit. +To Daniel Terry. Progress at Abbotsford. +To J.B.S. Morritt. A brave face to the world. +To Maria Edgeworth. Time's revenges. + +SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, 1772-1834-- +To Charles Lamb. A sympathetic reply. +To Joseph Cottle. Literary adventurers. +To Josiah Wade. A public example. +To Thomas Allsop. Himself and his detractors. +To the same. The Great Work described. +To the same. Reminiscences. + +ROBERT SOUTHEY, 1774-1843-- +To Joseph Cottle. Question of copyrights. +To John May. Waterloo. +To Henry Taylor. Anastasius Hope. +To Edward Moxon. Recollections of the Lambs. + +CHARLES LAMB, 1775-1834-- +To Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Temporary frenzy. +To the same. A friend in need. +To the same. The tragedy. +To William Wordsworth. The delights of London. +To Thomas Manning. At the Lakes. +To the same. Dissuasion from Tartary. +To Mrs. Wordsworth. Friends' importunities. +To Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The famous pigling. +To Bernard Barton. A blessing in disguise. +To the same. A cold. + +WILLIAM HAZLITT, 1778-1830-- +To Miss Sarah Stoddart. A love-letter. +To his son. Marriage, and the choice of a profession. +To Charles Cowden Clarke. The _Life of Napoleon_. + +LEIGH HUNT, 1784-1859-- +To Joseph Severn. A belated letter. +To Percy Bysshe Shelley. Outpourings of gratitude. +To Horace Smith. Shelley's death. +To Mrs. Procter. Accepting an invitation. +To a friend. Offence and punishment. + +GEORGE GORDON NOEL, LORD BYRON, 1788-1824-- +To Mr. Hodgson. Travel in Portugal. +To Thomas Moore. Announces his engagement. +To John Murray. No bid for sweet voices. +To the same. The cemetery at Bologna. +To the same. In rebellious mood. +To Percy Bysshe Shelley. A trio of poets. +To Lady Byron. A plain statement of facts. +To Mr. Barff. Sympathy with the Greeks. + +PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, 1792-1822-- +To T.J. Hogg. His first marriage. +To William Godwin. An introduction. +To Thomas Hookham. A subscription for Hunt. +To Mr. Ollier. An article by Southey. +To Mrs. Hunt. Keats and some others. +To Leigh Hunt. A literary collaboration. + +JOHN KEATS, 1795-1821-- +To John Hamilton Reynolds. Burns's cottage. +To Richard Woodhouse. The poetic character. +To Percy Bysshe Shelley. Returning advice. +To Charles Brown. A despairing cry. + +THOMAS HOOD, 1799-1845-- +To Charles Dickens. _American Notes_. +To the _Manchester Athenaeum_. The uses of literature. +To Dr. Moir. A humourist to the last. +To Sir Robert Peel. A farewell letter. + +ROBERT BROWNING, 1812-1889, and +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING, 1806-1861-- +To Leigh Hunt. A joint epistle. + +CHARLOTTE BRONTË, 1816-1855-- +To a friend. Trials of a governess. +To William Wordsworth. Thanks for advice. +To a friend. At school abroad. +To a friend. Curates to tea. +To George Henry Lewes. Herself and Miss Austen. +To the same. The argument continued. +To a friend. Illness and death of Emily Brontë. +To Mr. G. Smith. Thackeray and _Esmond_ +To the same. _Esmond_ again. + + + + +SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS + + + + +SIR THOMAS MORE + +1478-1535 + + + +To MARGARET ROPER + +_'Wyth a cole' from prison_ + + +[1535.] + +Myne owne good doughter, our lorde be thanked I am in good helthe of +bodye, and in good quiet of minde: and of worldly thynges I no more +desyer then I have. I beseche hym make you all mery in the hope of +heaven. And such thynges as I somewhat longed to talke with you all, +concerning the worlde to come, our Lord put theim into your myndes, as +I trust he dothe, and better to, by his holy spirite: who blesse +you and preserve you all. Written wyth a cole by your tender loving +father, who in his pore prayers forgetteth none of you all, nor +your babes, nor your nurses, nor your good husbandes, nor your good +husbandes shrewde wyves, nor your fathers shrewde wyfe neither, nor +our other frendes. And thus fare ye hartely well for lack of paper. + +THOMAS MORE, knight. + +Our Lorde kepe me continuallye true, faithfull and playne, to the +contrarye whereof I beseche hym hartelye never to suffer me live. For +as for longe life (as I have often tolde the Megge) I neyther looke +for, nor long for, but am well content to goe, yf God call me hence +to morowe. And I thanke our lorde, I knowe no person living, that I +woulde had one philippe for my sake: of whiche minde I am more gladde +then of all the worlde. + +Recommend me to your shrewde wil, and mine other sonnes, and to John +Harris my frende, and your selfe knoweth to whome els, and to my +shrewde wife above all, and God preserve you all and make and kepe you +his servantes all. + + + + +MARGARET ROPER + +1505-1544 + + + +TO SIR THOMAS MORE + +_Reply to the above_ + + +[1534.] + +Myne owne moste entierelye beloved father, I thynke my self never +hable to geve you sufficiente thankes, for the inestimable coumforte +my poore hearte received in the readyng of youre moste lovynge and +godlye letter, representing to me, the cleare shynyng bryghtenesse +of youre soule, the pure temple of the holy spirite of God, which I +doubte not shall perpetuallye reste in you and you in hym. Father, if +all the worlde hadde bene geven to me, as I be saved it hadde bene +a small pleasure, in comparison of the pleasure I conceived of the +treasure of youre letter, whiche thoughe it were written with a cole, +is woorthye in myne opinion to be wrytten in letters of golde. Father, +what moved them to shytte you uppe againe, we can nothynge heare. +But surelye I coniecture that when they considered that you wer of so +temperate mind, that you were contented to abyde there all your lyfe +with suche libertie, they thought it wer never possible to enclyne you +to theyr will, excepte it were by restrayning you from the church, and +the companye of my good mother youre deare wyfe and us youre chyldren +and bedesfolke. But father this chaunce was not straunge to you. For +I shal not forgeat howe you tolde us when we were with you in the +gardeyne, that these thinges wer like ynoughe to chaunce you shortlye +after. Father I have manye tymes rehearsed to myne owne coumfort and +dyvers others, your fashyon and wordes ye hadde to us when we were +laste with you: for which I trust by the grace of god to be the better +while I live, and when I am departed oute of this frayle life, which +I praye God I maye passe and ende in his true obedient service, after +the wholesome counsayle and fruitful exaumple of living I have had +(good father) of you, whom I pray god geve me grace to folowe: which +I shal the better thorow the assistaunce of your devoute prayers, +the speciall staye of my frayltie. Father I am sory I have no lenger +laysure at this time to talke with you, the chief comfort of my life, +I trust to have occasion to write again shortly. I trust I have your +daily prayer and blessing. + +Your most loving obedient daughter and bedeswoma Margaret Roper, which +daily and howrely is boude to pray for you, for whom she prayeth +in this wise, that our lord of his infinite mercye geve you of hys +hevenly comfort, and so to assist you with hys speciall grace, that ye +never in any thing declyne from hys blessed will, but live and dye his +true obedient servaunt. Amen. + + + + +ROGER ASCHAM + +1515-1568 + + + +To Lady Jane Grey + +_A most accomplished maiden_ + + +Augsberg, 18 _Jan_. 1551. + +Most Illustrious Lady, + +In this long travel of mine, I have passed over wide tracts of +country, and seen the largest cities, I have studied the customs, +institutes, laws, and religion of many men and diverse nations, with +as much diligence as I was able: but in all this variety of subjects, +nothing has caused in me so much wonder as my having fallen upon you +last summer, a maiden of noble birth, and that too in the absence of +your tutor, in the hall of your most noble family, and at a time +when others, both men and women, give themselves up to hunting and +pleasures, you, a divine maiden, reading carefully in Greek the +_Phaedo_ of the divine Plato; and happier in being so occupied than +because you derive your birth, both on your father's side, and on your +mother's, from kings and queens! Go on then, most accomplished maiden, +to bring honour on your country, happiness on your parents, glory to +yourself, credit to your tutor, congratulation to all your friends, +and the greatest admiration to all strangers! + +O happy Elmar in having such a pupil, and happier still you, in having +such a tutor ... I ask two things of you, my dear Elmar, for I suppose +you will read this letter, that you will persuade the Lady Jane to +write me a letter in Greek as soon as possible; for she promised she +would do so ... I have also lately written to John Sturm, and told him +that she had promised. Take care that I get a letter soon from her as +well as from you. It is a long way for letters to come, but John Hales +will be a most convenient letter-carrier and bring them safely.... + + + +To LADY CLARKE + +_An offer of assistance_ + + +[London], 15 _Jan_. 1554. + +Your remarkable love of virtue and zeal for learning, most illustrious +lady, joined with such talents and perseverance, are worthy of great +praise in themselves, and greater still because you are a woman, but +greatest of all because you are a lady of the court; where there are +many other occupations for ladies, besides learning, and many other +pleasures besides the practice of the virtues. This double praise +is further enhanced by the two patterns that you have proposed to +yourself to follow, the one furnished you by the court, the other +by your family. I mean our illustrious queen Mary, and your noble +grandfather, Thomas More--a man whose virtues go to raise England +above all other nations.... + +I am led to write thus not altogether by my admiration of you, but +partly by my own wish and more from the nature of my own office. It +was I who was invited some years ago from the University of Cambridge +by your mother, Margaret Roper--a lady worthy of her great father, +and of you her daughter--to the house of your kinsman, Lord Giles +Alington, to teach you and her other children the Greek and Latin +tongues; but at that time no offers could induce me to leave the +University. It is sweet to me to bear in mind this request of your +mother's, and I now not only remind you thereof, but would offer you, +now that I am at court, if not to fulfil her wishes, yet to do my +best to fulfil them, were it not that you have so much learning +in yourself, and also the aid of those two learned men, Cole and +Christopherson, so that you need no help from me, unless in their +absence you make use of my assistance, and if you like, abuse it. + +I write thus not because of any talents I possess (for I know they are +very small) but because of my will (which I know is very great), and +because of the opportunity long wished for and now granted me. For +by favour of that great bishop the Lord Stephen of Winchester, I have +been fetched away from the University to serve our illustrious queen +at court, and that too in such a post, that I can there follow the +same mode of life for the discharge of my duties as I did at the +University for study. My office is to write Latin letters for the +queen, and I hope I shall fulfil that office, if not with ability, +yet faithfully, diligently, and unblameably ... Farewell, most +accomplished lady! + + + + +SIR FRANCIS BACON + +1561-1626 + + + +To Sir Thomas Bodley + +_With a copy of his book_ + + +[_Nov_. 1605.] + +SIR, + +I think no man may more truly say with the Psalm _Multum incola +fuit anima mea_, than myself. For I do confess, since I was of any +understanding, my mind hath in effect been absent from that I have +done; and in absence are many errors which I do willingly acknowledge; +and amongst the rest this great one that led the rest; that knowing +myself by inward calling to be fitter to hold a book than to play a +part, I have led my life in civil causes; for which I was not very fit +by nature, and more unfit by the preoccupation of my mind. Therefore +calling myself home, I have now for a time enjoyed myself; whereof +likewise I desire to make the world partaker. My labours (if I may so +term that which was the comfort of my other labours) I have dedicated +to the King; desirous, if there be any good in them, it may be as the +fat of a sacrifice, incensed to his honour: and the second copy I have +sent unto you, not only in good affection, but in a kind of congruity, +in regard of your great and rare desert of learning. For books are the +shrines where the saint is, or is believed to be; and you having built +an Ark to save learning from deluge, deserve propriety in any new +instrument or engine, whereby learning should be improved or advanced. + + + + +SIR THOMAS BROWNE + +1605-1682 + + + +To HIS SON THOMAS + +_Fatherly commendations_ + + +[c. 1667.] + +I Receaved yours, and would not deferre to send vnto you before you +sayled, which I hope will come vnto you; for in this wind, neither can +Reare-admirall Kempthorne come to you, nor you beginne your voyage. +I am glad you like Lucan so well. I wish more military men could read +him; in this passage you mention, there are noble straynes; and such +as may well affect generous minds. Butt I hope you are more taken with +the verses then the subject, and rather embrace the expression then +the example. And this I the rather hint unto you, because the like, +though in another waye, is sometimes practised in the king's shipps, +when, in desperate cases, they blowe up the same. For though I know +you are sober and considerative, yet knowing you also to be of great +resolution; and having also heard from ocular testimonies with what +vndaunted and persevering courage you have demeaned yourself in great +difficulties; and knowing your captaine to bee a stout and resolute +man; and with all the cordiall friendshippe that is between you; I +cannot omitt my earnest prayers vnto God to deliver you from such a +temptation. Hee that goes to warre must patiently submitt vnto the +various accidents thereof. To bee made prisoner by an vnequall and +overruling power, after a due resistance, is no disparagement; butt +upon a carelesse surprizall or faynt opposition; and you have so good +a memorie that you cannot forgett many examples thereof, even of the +worthiest commanders in your beloved Plutark. God hath given you a +stout, butt a generous and mercifull heart withall; and in all your +life you could never behold any person in miserie butt with compassion +and relief; which hath been notable in you from a child: so have you +layd up a good foundation for God's mercy; and, if such a disaster +should happen, Hee will, without doubt, mercifully remember you. How +euer, let God that brought you in the world in his owne good time, +lead you through it; and in his owne season bring you out of it; and +without such wayes as are displeasing vnto him. When you are at Cales, +see if you can get a box of the Jesuits' powder at easier rate, and +bring it in the bark, not in powder. I am glad you haue receaued the +bill of exchange for Cales; if you should find occasion to make vse +thereof. Enquire farther at Tangier of the minerall water you told +mee, which was neere the towne, and whereof many made use. Take notice +of such plants as you meet with, either upon the Spanish or African +coast; and if you knowe them not, putt some leaves into a booke, +though carelessely, and not with that neatenesse as in your booke at +Norwich. Enquire after any one who hath been at Fez; and learne what +you can of the present state of that place, which hath been so famous +in the description of Leo and others. The mercifull providence of God +go with you. _Impellant animae lintea Thraciae_. + + + +TO HIS SON EDWARD + +_Centenarians_ + + +15 _Dec_. [1679.] + +DEARE SONNE, + +Some thinck that great age superannuates persons from the vse of +physicall meanes, or that at a hundred yeares of age 'tis either a +folly or a shame to vse meanes to liue longer, and yet I haue knowne +many send to mee for their seuerall troubles at a hundred yeares of +age, and this day a poore woeman being a hundred and three yeares +and a weeke old sent to mee to giue her some ease of the colick. The +_macrobii_ and long liuers which I haue knowne heere haue been of +the meaner and poorer sort of people. Tho. Parrot was butt a meane or +rather poore man. Your brother Thomas gaue two pence a weeke to John +More, a scauenger, who dyed in the hundred and second yeare of his +life; and 'twas taken the more notice of that the father of Sir John +Shawe, who marryed my Lady Killmorey, and liueth in London, I say that +his father, who had been a vintner, liued a hundred and two yeares, or +neere it, and dyed about a yeere agoe. God send us to number our dayes +and fitt ourselves for a better world. + + + + +JOHN MILTON + +1608-1674 + + + +TO A CAMBRIDGE FRIEND + +_The choice of a profession_ + + +[1631-2.] + +SIR, + +Besides that in sundry other respects I must acknowledge me to profit +by you whenever we meet, you are often to me, and were yesterday +especially, as a good watchman to admonish that the hours of the night +pass on (for so I call my life, as yet obscure and unserviceable to +mankind), and that the day with me is at hand, wherein Christ commands +all to labour, while there is light. Which because I am persuaded you +do to no other purpose than out of a true desire that God should be +honoured in every one, I therefore think myself bound, though unasked, +to give you account, as oft as occasion is, of this my tardy moving, +according to the precept of my conscience, which I firmly trust is not +without God. Yet now I will not strain for any set apology, but only +refer myself to what my mind shall have at any time to declare herself +at her best ease. + +But if you think, as you said, that too much love of learning is in +fault, and that I have given up myself to dream away my years in the +arms of studious retirement, like Endymion with the moon, as the tale +of Latmus goes; yet consider that if it were no more but the mere +love of learning--whether it proceed from a principle bad, good, +or natural--it could not have held out thus long against so strong +opposition on the other side of every kind. For, if it be bad, why +should not all the fond hopes that forward youth and vanity are fledge +with, together with gain, pride, and ambition, call me forward more +powerfully than a poor, regardless, and unprofitable sin of curiosity +should be able to withhold me; whereby a man cuts himself off from all +action, and becomes the most helpless, pusillanimous, and unweaponed +creature in the world, the most unfit and unable to do that which +all mortals most aspire to--either to be useful to his friends or to +offend his enemies? Or, if it be to be thought a natural proneness, +there is against that a much more potent inclination inbred, which +about this time of a man's life solicits most--the desire of house and +family of his own; to which nothing is esteemed more helpful than the +early entering into credible employment, and nothing more hindering +than this affected solitariness. And though this were enough, yet +there is to this another act, if not of pure, yet of refined nature, +no less available to dissuade prolonged obscurity--a desire of honour +and repute and immortal fame, seated in the breast of every true +scholar; which all make haste to by the readiest ways of publishing +and divulging conceived merits--as well those that shall, as those +that never shall, obtain it. Nature, therefore, would presently work +the more prevalent way, if there were nothing but this inferior bent +of herself to restrain her. Lastly, the love of learning, as it is the +pursuit of something good, it would sooner follow the more excellent +and supreme good known and presented, and so be quickly diverted from +the empty and fantastic chase of shadows and notions, to the solid +good flowing from due and timely obedience to that command in the +Gospel set out by the terrible seasing of him that hid the talent. + +It is more probable, therefore, that not the endless delight of +speculation, but this very consideration of that great commandment, +does not press forward, as soon as many do, to undergo, but keeps +off, with a sacred reverence and religious advisement how _best_ to +undergo--not taking thought of being _late_, so it give advantage +to be more _fit_; for those that were latest lost nothing, when the +master of the vineyard came to give each one his hire. And here I am +come to a stream-head, copious enough to disburden itself, like Nilus, +at seven mouths into an ocean. But then I should also run into a +reciprocal contradiction of ebbing and flowing at once, and do that +which I excuse myself for not doing--'preach and not preach.' Yet, +that you may see that I am something suspicious of myself, and do take +notice of a certain belatedness in me, I am the bolder to send you +some of my nightward thoughts some while since, because they come in +not altogether unfitly, made up in a Petrarchian stanza, which I told +you of: + + How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, + Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year! + My hasting days fly on with full career, + But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. + Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth + That I to manhood am arrived so near; + And inward ripeness doth much less appear + That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th. + Yet be it less, or more, or soon, or slow, + It shall be still in strictest measure even + To that same lot, however mean or high, + Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven. + All is, if I have grace to use it so, + As ever in my great taskmaster's eye. + +By this I believe you may well repent of having made mention at all of +this matter; for, if I have not all this while won you to this, I +have certainly wearied you of it. This, therefore, alone may be a +sufficient reason for me to keep me as I am, lest having thus tired +you singly, I should deal worse with, a whole congregation, and spoil +all the patience of a parish; for I myself do not only see my own +tediousness, but now grow offended with it, that has hindered me thus +long from coming to the last and best _period_ of my letter, and +that which must now chiefly work my pardon, that I am your true and +unfeigned _friend_. + + + +TO LEONARD PHILARAS, THE ATHENIAN + +_The blind poet_[1] + + +Westminster, 28 _Sept_. 1654. + +I have always been devotedly attached to the literature of Greece, and +particularly to that of your Athens; and have never ceased to cherish +the persuasion that that city would one day make me ample recompense +for the warmth of my regard. The ancient genius of your renowned +country has favoured the completion of my prophecy in presenting me +with your friendship and esteem. Though I was known to you only by my +writings, and we were removed to such a distance from each other, you +most courteously addressed me by letter; and when you unexpectedly +came to London, and saw me who could no longer see, my affliction, +which causes none to regard me with greater admiration, and perhaps +many even with feelings of contempt, excited your tenderest sympathy +and concern. You would not suffer me to abandon the hope of recovering +my sight; and informed me you had an intimate friend at Paris, Dr. +Thevenot, who was particularly celebrated in disorders of the eyes, +whom you would consult about mine, if I would enable you to lay before +him the causes and the symptoms of the complaint. I will do what you +desire, lest I should seem to reject that aid which perhaps may be +offered me by Heaven. It is now, I think, about ten years since I +perceived my vision to grow weak and dull; and at the same time I +was troubled with pain in my kidneys and bowels, accompanied with +flatulency. In the morning, if I began to read, as was my custom, +my eyes instantly ached intensely, but were refreshed after a little +corporeal exercise. The candle which I looked at, seemed as it were +encircled with a rainbow. Not long after the sight in the left part of +the left eye (which I lost some years before the other) became quite +obscured, and prevented me from discerning any object on that +side. The sight in my other eye has now been gradually and sensibly +vanishing away for about three years; some months before it had +entirely perished, though I stood motionless, everything which I +looked at seemed in motion to and fro. A stiff cloudy vapour seemed +to have settled on my forehead and temples, which usually occasions a +sort of somnolent pressure upon my eyes, and particularly from dinner +till the evening. So that I often recollect what is said of the poet +Phineas in the _Argonautics_: + + A stupor deep his cloudy temples bound, + And when he walked he seemed as whirling round, + Or in a feeble trance he speechless lay. + +I ought not to omit that while I had any sight left, as soon as I lay +down on my bed and turned on either side, a flood of light used to +gush from my closed eyelids. Then, as my sight became daily more +impaired, the colours became more faint and were emitted with a +certain inward crackling sound; but at present, every species of +illumination being, as it were, extinguished, there is diffused around +me nothing but darkness, or darkness mingled and streaked with an +ashy brown. Yet the darkness in which I am perpetually immersed seems +always, both by night and day, to approach nearer to white than black; +and when the eye is rolling in its socket, it admits a little particle +of light, as through a chink. And though your physician may kindle +a small ray of hope, yet I make up my mind to the malady as quite +incurable; and I often reflect, that as the wise man admonishes, +days of darkness are destined to each of us, the darkness which I +experience, less oppressive than that of the tomb, is, owing to the +singular goodness of the Deity, passed amid the pursuits of literature +and the cheering salutations of friendship. But if, as is written, +'Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth +from the mouth of God,' why may not any one acquiesce in the privation +of his sight, when God has so amply furnished his mind and his +conscience with eyes? While He so tenderly provides for me, while +He so graciously leads me by the hand, and conducts me on the way, I +will, since it is His pleasure, rather rejoice than repine at being +blind. And, my dear Philaras, whatever may be the event, I wish you +adieu with no less courage and composure than if I had the eyes of a +lynx. + +[Footnote 1: From the Latin.] + + + + +JOHN EVELYN + +1620-1706 + + + +To SAMUEL PEPYS + +_In retirement at Wotton_ + + +Wotton, 2 _Aug_. 1692. + +I have been philosophizing and world-despising in the solitudes of +this place, whither I am retired to pass and mourn the absence of my +worthiest friend. Here is wood and water, meadows and mountains, the +Dryads and Hamadryads; but here's no Mr. Pepys, no Dr. Gale. Nothing +of all the cheer in the parlour that I taste; all's insipid, and all +will be so to me, till I see and enjoy you again. I long to know what +you do, and what you think, because I am certain you do both what +is worthy the knowing and imitation. On Monday next will Mr. Bentley +resume his lecture, I think, at Bow Church: I fear I shall hardly +get through this wilderness by that time. Pray give him your wonted +confidence if you can, and tell him how unhappily I am entangled. I +hope, however, to get home within this fortnight, and about the end of +October to my hyemation in Dover Street. My son is gone with the Lord +Lieutenant, and our new relation, Sir Cyril Wych, into Ireland: I look +they should return wondrous statesmen, or else they had as well have +stayed at home. I am here with Boccalini, and Erasmus's _Praise of +Folly_, and look down upon the world with wondrous contempt, when +I consider for what we keep such a mighty bustle. _O fortunate_ Mr. +Pepys! who knows, possesses, and enjoys all that's worth the seeking +after. Let me live among your inclinations, and I shall be happy. + + + +To THE SAME + +_An old man's occupations_ + + +Wotton, 22 _July_, 1700. + +I could no longer suffer this old servant of mine to pass and repass +so near Clapham without a particular account of your health and all +your happy family. You will now inquire what I do here? Why, as the +patriarchs of old, I pass the days in the fields, among horses and +oxen, sheep, cows, bulls, and sows, _et cetera pecora campi_. We have, +thank God! finished our hay harvest prosperously. I am looking after +my hinds, providing carriage and tackle against reaping time and +sowing. What shall I say more? _Venio ad voluptates agricolarum_, +which Cicero, you know, reckons amongst the most becoming diversions +of old age; and so I render it. This without: now within doors, never +was any matron more busy than my wife, disposing of our plain +country furniture for a naked old extravagant house, suitable to +our employments. She has a dairy, and distaffs, for _lac, linum, et +lanam_, and is become a very Sabine. But can you thus hold out? Will +my friend say; is philosophy, Gresham College, and the example of Mr. +Pepys, and agreeable conversation of York Buildings, quite forgotten +and abandoned? No, no! _Naturam expellas furca tamen usque recurret_. +Know I have been ranging of no fewer than thirty large cases of books, +destined for a competent standing library, during four or five days +wholly destitute of my young coadjutor, who, upon some pretence of +being much engaged in the mathematics, and desiring he may continue +his course at Oxford till the beginning of August, I have wholly left +it to him. You will now suspect something by this disordered hand; +truly I was too happy in these little domestic affairs, when, on the +sudden, as I was about my books in the library, I found myself sorely +attacked with a shivering, followed by a feverish indisposition, and +a strangury, so as to have kept, not my chamber only, but my bed, till +very lately, and with just so much strength as to scribble these lines +to you. For the rest, I give God thanks for this gracious warning, my +great age calling upon me _sarcinam componere_ every day expecting it, +who have still enjoyed a wonderful course of bodily health for forty +years.... + + + + +DAME DOROTHY BROWNE + +1621-1685 + + + +TO HER DAUGHTER IN LONDON + +_Three interesting postscripts_ + + +[Norfolk, 28 _June, c_. 1679.] + +DEARE DAUGHTER, + +I have received all the things, to the great content of the owners, +who returne you many thankes. Thay ar indeed very well chose things of +all sorts: and I give you many thanks for the troble you have had with +them: I sent you Tomey's scurt and long slevs of his ould cott; I hope +you have them. On Mr. Felden it seemes took it last Wadinsday, and +sayd hee would deliver it him selfe. Wee dayly wish for the new +cloths; all our linen being worne out but shefts, and Tomey would give +all his stock to see his briches. I bless God wee ar all well as +I hope you ar. Tomey presents his dutty, your sisters all love and +services. + + +[4 _July_.] + +GOOD DAUGHTER, + +I must troble you once more abought my cosen Tenoson. She would +macke a manto gown of the grene and whight silke you sent down for a +peticot, but she wants two yards, and as much slit grene sarsinat as +will line it in sight. I pray send nurs to gett it and lett mee +know what it com to, and I will send you the mony. I sayes my Cossen +Cradock might send it me by the choch for she would have it as sonne +as possible. I bless God wee ar all in helth, and Tomey much longing +for his briches. + + +[5 _July_.] + +Tomey have received his cloues, and is much delighted, and sends you +and his mother and grandmother dutty and thanckes, and meanes to war +them carfully. + + + + +GEORGE, LORD BERKELEY + +1628-1698 + + + +To SAMUEL PEPYS[1] + +_Honourable Acquittal_ + + +Berkeley House, 23 _Feb_. 1677-8. + +GOOD MR. PEPYS, + +Though I thank you for the favour of your letter, yet I confess myself +both much surprised and troubled to receive a letter from you upon +such an occasion: so is my wife, who professes herself wholly innocent +of any crime of charging you in thought, word, or deed, and hopes you +will do her that right to believe so of her. My daughter Berkeley says +she expressed some trouble that the friend she recommended had not +success, and that she was told the Commissioners of the Navy did +report they had given the same recommendations of the person she +proposed, as they did of him that was accepted, for the lieutenant's +place; which my daughter, supposing to be true, wondered the more he +lost the preferment: but, by the copies enclosed in your's, it appears +her Ladyship was very much misinformed. As for Mrs. Henrietta, she +is extremely troubled in saying any thing that gave you offence; and +though she did not in the least intend it, yet she begs your pardon. +And now, my good friend, though I am not under any accusation, and +therefore need not say any thing to vindicate myself, yet give me +leave, upon this occasion, to assure you, that there is no person +has a better opinion of you than myself, nor is more sensible of your +particular civilities to me; which I should be very glad to make a +return of when in my power to serve you: and give me leave to add +further, without flattery to you, and with great sincerity, that I +believe our gracious master, His Majesty, is so fortunate in employing +you in his service, that, if he should lose you, it would be very +difficult for His Majesty to find a successor so well qualified in +all respects for his service, if we consider both your integrity, vast +abilities, industry, and zealous affections for his service; and, +if His Majesty were asked the question, I will hold ten to one His +Majesty declares himself of my opinion; so will I believe all that +know you, more especially our fellow-traders that are so conversant +with you and obliged by you. + +This is asserted as a great truth by, Sir, your very affectionate and +hearty friend and Servant. + +[Footnote 1: Cf. Letter on p. 45.] + + + + +DOROTHY OSBORNE + +1628-1698 + + + +To SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE + +_Passing the time_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +I have been reckoning up how many faults you lay to my charge in your +last letter, and I find I am severe, unjust, unmerciful, and unkind! +O me! how should one do to mend all those! 'Tis work for an age, and +I fear that I shall be so old before I am good, that 'twill not be +considerable to any body but myself whether I am so or not.... You ask +me how I pass my time here. I can give you a perfect account, not only +of what I do for the present, but what I am likely to do this seven +years if I stay here so long. I rise in the morning reasonably early, +and before I am ready I go round the house till I am weary of that, +and then into the garden till it grows too hot for me. I then think of +making me ready; and when that's done I go into my father's chamber; +from thence to dinner, where my cousin Molle and I sit in great state +in a room and at a table that would hold a great many more. After +dinner we sit and talk till Mr. P. comes in question, and then I am +gone. The heat of the day is spent in reading or working; and about +six or seven o'clock I walk out into a common that lies hard by the +house, where a great many young wenches keep sheep and cows, and +sit in the shade singing of ballads; I go to them, and compare their +voices and beauty to some ancient shepherdesses that I have read of, +and find a vast difference there; but, trust me, I think these are +as innocent as those could be. I talk to them, and find _they +want nothing to make them the happiest people in the world but the +knowledge that they are so_. Most commonly, while we are in the middle +of our discourse, one looks about her, and spies her cows going into +the corn, and then away they all run as if they had wings at their +heels. I that am not so nimble stay behind, and when I see them +driving home their cattle think it is time for me to return too. When +I have supped I go into the garden, and so to the side of a small +river that runs by it, where I sit down and wish you with me (you +had best say this is not kind, neither). In earnest, it is a pleasant +place, and would be more so to me if I had your company, as I sit +there sometimes till I am lost with thinking; and were it not for some +cruel thoughts of the crossness of my fortune, that will not let me +sleep there, I should forget there were such a thing to be done as +going to bed. Since I writ this, my company is increased by two, my +brother Harry, and a fair niece, my brother Peyton's daughter. She is +so much a woman that I am almost ashamed to say I am her aunt, and so +pretty, that if I had any design to gain a servant I should not like +her company; but I have none, and therefore I shall endeavour to keep +her here as long as I can persuade her father to spare her, for she +will easily consent to it, having so much of my humour (though it +be the worst thing in her) as to like a melancholy place, and little +company.... My father is reasonably well, but keeps his chamber still; +but will hardly, I am afraid, ever be so perfectly recovered as to +come abroad again. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Another pretender_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +I could tell you such a story (it is too long to be written), as would +make you see what I never discovered in my life before, that I am +a valiant lady. In earnest, we have had such a skirmish and upon so +foolish an occasion, as I cannot tell which is strangest. The Emperor +and his proposals began it; I talked merrily on it till I saw my +brother put on his sober face, and could hardly then believe he was +in earnest. It seems he was; for when I had spoke freely my meaning it +wrought so with him, as to fetch up all that lay upon his stomach: all +the people that I had ever in my life refused were brought again upon +the stage, like Richard the Third's ghosts, to reproach me withal, and +all the kindness his discoveries could make I had for you was laid to +my charge; my best qualities, if I have any that are good, served +but for aggravations of my fault, and I was allowed to have wit, and +understanding, and discretion, in all other things, that it might +appear I had none in this. Well, 'twas a pretty lecture, and I grew +warm with it after a while. In short, we came so near to an absolute +falling out that 'twas time to give over, and we said so much then +that we have hardly spoken a word together since. But 'tis wonderful +to see what courtesies and legs pass between us, and as before we were +thought the kindest brother and sister, we are certainly now the most +complimental couple in England: it is a strange change, and I am very +sorry for it, but I'll swear I know not how to help it.... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A disappointing preacher_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +... God forgive me, I was as near laughing yesterday where I should +not: would you believe that I had the grace to go to hear a sermon +upon a week-day? In earnest, 'tis true, and Mr. Marshall was the man +that preached, but never any body was so defeated. He is so famed that +I expected rare things from him, and seriously I listened to him at +first with as much reverence and attention as if he had been St. Paul. +And what do you think he told us? why, that if there were no kings, no +queens, no lords, no ladies, no gentlemen or gentlewomen in the world, +it would be no loss at all to God Almighty: this he said over some +forty times, which made me remember it, whether I would or not. +The rest was much at this rate, entertained with the prettiest odd +phrases, that I had the most ado to look soberly enough for the place +I was in that ever I had in my life. He does not preach so always, +sure; if he does, I cannot believe his sermons will do much towards +the bringing anybody to heaven more than by exercising their patience; +yet I'll say that for him, he stood stoutly for tithes, though in +my opinion few deserve them less than he, and it may be he would be +better without them. Yet you say you are not convinced that to be +miserable is the way to be good; to some natures I think it is not; +but there are many of so careless and vain a temper that the least +breath of good fortune swells them with so much pride, that if they +were not put in mind sometimes by a sound cross or two that they are +mortal, they would hardly think it possible; and though it is a sign +of a servile nature, when fear produces more of reverence in us +than love, yet there is more danger of forgetting one's self in a +prosperous fortune than in the contrary; and affliction may be the +surest though not the pleasantest guide to heaven. What think you, +might I not preach with Mr. Marshall for a wager?... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The ideal husband_ + + +[No date; _c_. 1653.] + +There are a great many ingredients must go to the making me happy in +a husband. My cousin F. says our humours must agree, and to do that he +must have that kind of breeding that I have had, and used to that kind +of company; that is, he must not be so much a country gentleman as to +understand nothing but hawks and dogs, and be fonder of either than of +his wife; nor of the next sort of them, whose time reaches no farther +than to be justice of peace, and once in his life high sheriff, who +reads no book but statutes, and studies nothing but how to make a +speech interlarded with Latin, that may amaze his disagreeing poor +neighbours, and fright them rather than persuade them into quietness. +He must not be a thing that began the world in a free school, was sent +from thence to the university, and is at his farthest when he reaches +the inns of court; has no acquaintance but those of his form in those +places; speaks the French he has picked out of old laws, and admires +nothing but the stories he has heard of the revels that were kept +there before his time. He must not be a town gallant neither, that +lives in a tavern and an ordinary; that cannot imagine how an hour +should be spent without company unless it be in sleeping; that makes +court to all the women he sees, thinks they believe him, and laughs +and is laughed at equally. Nor a travelled Monsieur, whose head is +feathered inside and outside, that can talk of nothing but of dances +and duels, and has courage enough to wear slashes, when every body +else dies with cold to see him. He must not be a fool of no sort, nor +peevish, nor ill-natured, nor proud, nor courteous; and to all this +must be added, that he must love me, and I him, as much as we are +capable of loving. Without all this his fortune, though never so +great, would not satisfy me, and with it a very moderate one would +keep me from ever repenting my disposal.... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The growth of friendship_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + + +... I must find you pleased and in good humour; merry as you were +wont to be, when we first met, if you will not have me show that I am +nothing akin to my cousin Osborne's lady. But what an age it is since +we first met, and how great a change it has wrought in both of us! +if there had been as great a one on my face, it would be either very +handsome or very ugly. For God's sake, when we meet, let us design one +day to remember old stories in, to ask one another by what degrees +our friendship grew to this height 'tis at. In earnest, I am lost +sometimes in thinking of it, and though I can never repent of the +share you have in my heart, I know not whether I gave it you willingly +or not at first. No; to speak ingenuously, I think you got an interest +there a good while before I thought you had any, and it grew so +insensibly and yet so fast, that all the traverses it has met with +since have served rather to discover it to me than at all to hinder +it. + + + +TO THE SAME. + +_Wilful woman_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +I was carried yesterday abroad to a dinner that was designed for +mirth, but it seems one ill-humoured person in the company is enough +to put all the rest out of tune, for I never saw people perform what +they intended worse, and could not forbear telling them so; but to +excuse themselves and silence my reproaches they all agreed to say +that I spoiled their jollity by wearing the most unseasonable looks +that could be put on for such an occasion. I told them I knew no +remedy but leaving me behind them; that my looks were suitable to +my fortune though not to a feast. Fie, I am got into my complaining +humour that tires myself as well as every body else, and which (as you +observe) helps not at all; would it would leave me and that I should +not always have occasion for it, but that's in nobody's power, and my +Lady Talmash, that says she can do whatever she will, cannot believe +whatsoever she pleases. 'Tis not unpleasant, methinks, to hear her +talk how at such a time she was sick, and the physicians told her she +would have the small-pox and showed her where they were coming out +upon her, but she bethought herself that it was not at all convenient +for her to have them at that time; some business she had that required +her going abroad, and so she resolved she would not be sick nor was +not. Twenty such stories as these she tells, and then falls into +discourses of the strength of reason and power of philosophy till she +confounds herself and all that hear her. You have no such ladies in +Ireland.... My poor Lady Vavasor is carried to the Tower, and her +situation could not excuse her, because she was acquainted by somebody +that there was a plot against the Protector, and did not discover it. +She has told now all that was told her, but vows she will never say +from whence she had it; we shall see whether her resolutions are as +unalterable as those of my Lady Talmash. I wonder how she behaved +herself when she was married; I never yet saw anybody that did not +look simply and out of countenance, nor ever knew a wedding well +designed but one, and that was of two persons who had time enough I +confess to contrive it, and nobody to please in it but themselves. He +came down into the country where she was upon a visit, and one morning +married her; as soon as they came out of the church, they took coach +and came for the town, dined at an Inn by the way, and at night came +into lodgings that were provided for them, where nobody knew them, +and where they passed for married people of seven years' standing. The +truth is I could not endure to be Mrs. Bride in a public wedding, to +be made the happiest person on earth; do not take it ill, for I would +endure it if I could, rather than fail, but in earnest I do not think +it were possible for me; you cannot apprehend the formalities of a +treaty more than I do, nor so much the success of it. Yet in earnest +your father will not find my brother Peyton wanting in civility +(though he is not a man of much compliment unless it be in his letters +to me), nor an unreasonable person in any thing so he will allow him, +out of his kindness to his wife, to set a higher value upon his +sister than she deserves. I know not how he may be prejudiced upon the +business, but he is not deaf to reason when it is civilly delivered, +and is as easily gained with compliance and good usage as any body +I know, but no other way; when he is roughly used he is like me ten +times the worse for it. I make it a case of conscience to discover my +faults to you as fast as I know them, that you may consider what you +have to do: my aunt told me no longer ago than yesterday, that I was +the most wilful woman that ever she knew, and had an obstinacy of +spirit nothing could overcome. Take heed, you see I give you fair +warning. I have missed a letter this Monday, what is the reason? +By the next I shall be gone into Kent, and my other journey is laid +aside, which I am not displeased at, because it would have broken our +intercourse very much. Here are some verses of Cowley's; pray tell me +how you like them. It is only a piece taken out of a new thing of +his. The whole is very long, and is a description of, or rather a +paraphrase upon, the friendships of David and Jonathan. 'Tis I think +the best I have seen of his, and I like the subject because it is that +I would be perfect in. Adieu! + + + + +KATHARINE PHILIPS + +1631-1664 + + + +ORINDA TO THE HONOURABLE BERENICE + +_Yielding to opinion_ + + +Priory of Cardigan, _25 June_ + +Your Ladyship's last favour from Coll. P----'s was truly obliging, +and carried so much of the same great soul of yours, which loves to +diffuse itself in expressions of friendship to me, that it merits +a great deal more acknowledgement than I am able to pay at my best +condition, and am less now when my head aches, and will give me no +leave to enlarge, though I have so much subject and reason; but really +if my heart ached too, I could be sensible of a very great kindness +and condescension in thinking me worthy of your concern, though +I visibly perceive most of my letters have lost their way to your +Ladyship. I beseech you be pleased first to believe I have written +every post; but, secondly, since I came, and then to enquire for them, +that they may be commended into your hands, where alone they can hope +for a favourable residence; I am very much a sharer by sympathy, in +your Ladyship's satisfaction in the converse you had in the country, +and find that to that ingenious company Fortune hath been just, there +being no person fitter to receive all the admiration of persons best +capable to pay them, than the great _Berenice_.... + +And now (madam) why was that a cruel question, When will you come to +_Wales_? 'Tis cruel to me, I confess, that it is yet in question, but +I humbly beg your Ladyship to unriddle that part of your letter, for +I cannot understand why you, madam, who have no persons alive to whom +your birth hath submitted you, and have already by your life secured +to yourself the best opinion the world can give you, should create an +awe upon your own actions, from imaginary inconveniences: Happiness, +I confess, is two-faced, and one is opinion; but that opinion is +certainly _our own_; for it were equally ridiculous and impossible +to shape our _actions_ by others' _opinions_. I have had so much (and +some sad) reason to discuss this principle, that I can speak with some +confidence, That _none will ever be happy, who make their happiness to +consist in, or be governed by the votes of other persons._ I deny +not but the approbation of wise and good persons is a very necessary +satisfaction; but to forbear innocent contentments, only because it's +possible some fancies may be so capricious as to dispute whether I +should have taken them, is, in my belief, neither better nor worse +than to fast always, because there are some so superstitious in the +world, that will abstain from meat, upon some score or other, upon +every day in the year, that is, some upon some days, and others +upon others, and some upon all. You know, madam, there is nothing so +various as _vulgar opinion_, nothing so untrue to itself. Who shall +then please since none can fix it? 'Tis heresy (this of submitting to +every blast of popular extravagancy) which I have combated in persons +very dear to me; _Dear madam_, let them not have your authority for a +relapse, when I had almost committed them; but consider it without a +bias, and give sentence as you see cause; and in that interim put me +not off (_Dear madam_) with those chimeras, but tell me plainly what +inconvenience is it to come? If it be one in earnest, I will submit, +but otherwise, I am so much my own friend, and my friend's friend, +as not to be satisfied with your Ladyship's taking measure of your +actions by others' opinion, when I know too that the severest could +find nothing in this journey that they could condemn, but your excess +of charity to me, and that censure you have already supported with +patience, and (notwithstanding my own consciousness of no ways +deserving your sufferance upon that score) I cannot beg you to recover +the reputation of your judgement in that particular, since it must be +my ruin. I should now say very much for your most obliging commands to +me, to write, and should beg frequent letters from your Ladyship with +all possible importunity, and should by command from my _Lucasia_ +excuse her last rudeness (as she calls it) in giving you account of +her honour for you under her own hand, but I must beg your pardon now, +and out-believing all, I can say upon every one of these accounts, for +really, madam, you cannot tell how to imagine any person more to any +one, than I am, + +_Madam, +Your Ladyship's +most faithful servant, +and passionate friend_, +ORINDA + + + + +JOHN LOCKE + +1632-1704 + + + +TO WILLIAM MOLYNEUX + +_A philosopher's confidences_ + + +Oates, 26 _April_, 1695. + +SIR, + +You look with the eyes, and speak the language of friendship, when you +make my life of much more concern to the world than your own. I take +it, as it is, for an effect of your kindness, and so shall not accuse +you of compliment; the mistakes and over-valuings of good-will being +always sincere, even when they exceed what common truth allows. This +on my side I must beg you to believe, that my life would be much more +pleasant and useful to me, if you were within my reach, that I might +sometimes enjoy your conversation, and, upon twenty occasions, lay +my thoughts before you, and have the advantage of your judgement. I +cannot complain that I have not my share of friends of all ranks, and +such, whose interest, assistance, affection, and opinions too, in fit +cases, I can rely on. But methinks, for all this, there is one place +vacant, that I know nobody that would so well fill as yourself; I want +one near me to talk freely with, _de quolibet ente_; to propose to +the extravagancies that rise in my mind; one with whom I would debate +several doubts and questions, to see what was in them. Meditating by +one's self, is like digging in the mine; it often, perhaps, brings up +maiden earth, which never came near the light before; but whether it +contains any metal in it, is never so well tried as in conversation +with a knowing judicious friend who carries about with him the true +touchstone, which is love of truth in a clear-thinking head. Men of +parts and judgement the world usually gets hold of, and by a great +mistake (that their abilities of mind are lost, if not employed in the +pursuit of wealth or power) engages them in the ways of fortune and +interest, which usually leave but little freedom or leisure of thought +for pure disinterested truth. And such who give themselves up frankly, +and in earnest to the full latitude of real knowledge, are not +everywhere to be met with. Wonder not, therefore, that I wish so much +for you in my neighbourhood; I should be too happy in a friend of your +make, were you within my reach. But yet I cannot but wish that some +business would once bring you within distance; and it is a pain to me +to think of leaving the world without the happiness of seeing you. + +I do not wonder that a kinsman of yours should magnify civilities that +scarce deserve the name; I know not wherein they consisted, but in +being glad to see one that was in any way related to you, and was +himself a very ingenious man; either of those was a title to more than +I did, or could show him. I am sorry I have not yet had an opportunity +to wait on him in London; and I fear he should be gone before I am +able to get thither. This long winter, and cold spring, has hung very +heavy upon my lungs, and they are not yet in a case to be ventured in +London air, which must be my excuse for not waiting upon him and Dr. +Ashe yet. + +The third edition of my essay has already, or will be speedily, in the +press. But what perhaps will seem stranger, and possibly please you +better, an abridgement is now making (if it be not already done) by +one of the university of Oxford, for the use of young scholars, in the +place of the ordinary system of logic. From the acquaintance I had of +the temper of that place I did not expect to have it get much footing +there. But so it is, I some time since received a very civil letter +from one, wholly a stranger to me there, concerning such a design; and +by another from him since, I conclude it near done. He seems to be an +ingenious man, and he writes sensibly about it, but I can say nothing +of it till I see it; and he, of his own accord, has offered that it +shall be wholly submitted to my opinion, and disposal of it. And thus, +sir, possibly that which you once proposed may be attained to, and I +was pleased with the gentleman's design for your sake. + +You are a strange man, you oblige me very much by the care you take +to have it well translated, and you thank me for complying with your +offer. In my last, as I remember, I told you the reason why it was +so long before I writ, was an expectation of an answer from London, +concerning something I had to communicate to you: it was in short +this; I was willing to know what my bookseller would give for a good +latin copy; he told me, at last, twenty pounds. His delay was, because +he would first have known what the translator demanded. But I forced +him to make his proposal, and so I send it to you, to make what use of +it you please. He since writ me word, that a friend of his at Oxford +would, in some time, be at leisure to do it, and would undertake it. I +bid him excuse himself to him, for that it was in hands I approved of, +and some part of it now actually done. For I hope the essay (he was to +show you the next week after you writ to me last) pleased you. Think +it not a compliment, that I desire you to make what alterations you +think fit. One thing particularly you will oblige me and the world in, +and that is, in paring off some of the superfluous repetitions, which +I left in for the sake of illiterate men, and the softer sex, not used +to abstract notions and reasonings. But much of this reasoning will +be out of doors in a latin translation. I refer all to your judgement, +and so am secure it will be done as is best. + +What I shall add concerning enthusiasm, I guess, will very much agree +with your thoughts, since yours jump so right with mine, about the +place where it is to come in, I having designed it for chap. 18, lib. +iv, as a false principle of reasoning often made use of. But, to give +an historical account of the various ravings men have embraced for +religion, would, I fear, be besides my purpose, and be enough to make +an huge volume. + +My opinion of P. Malebranche agrees perfectly with yours. What I +have writ concerning 'seeing all things in God', would make a little +treatise of itself. But I have not quite gone through it, for fear +I should by somebody or other be tempted to print it. For I love not +controversies, and have a personal kindness for the author. When I +have the happiness to see you, we will consider it together, and you +shall dispose of it. + +I think I shall make some other additions to be put into your latin +translation, and particularly concerning the 'connection of ideas', +which has not, that I know, been hitherto considered, and has, I +guess, a greater influence upon our minds than is usually taken notice +of. Thus, you see, I make you the confident of my reveries; you would +be troubled with a great many more of them, were you nearer. + + + +TO DR. MOLYNEUX + +_True friendship_ + + +Oates, 27 _Oct._ 1698. + +SIR, + +Death has, with a violent hand, hastily snatched from you a dear +brother. I doubt not but, on this occasion, you need all the +consolation can be given to one unexpectedly bereft of so worthy and +near a relation. Whatever inclination I may have to alleviate your +sorrow, I bear too great a share in the loss, and am too sensibly +touched with it myself, to be in a condition to discourse with you on +this subject, or do any thing but mingle my tears with yours. I have +lost, in your brother, not only an ingenious and learned acquaintance, +all that the world esteemed; but an intimate and sincere friend, whom +I truly loved, and by whom I was truly loved: and what a loss that is, +those only can be sensible who know how valuable, and how scarce, +a true friend is, and how far to be preferred to all other sorts of +treasure. He has left a son, who I know was dear to him, and deserved +to be so as much as was possible, for one of his age. I cannot think +myself wholly incapacitated from paying some of the affection and +service that was due from me to my dear friend, as long as he has a +child, or a brother, in the world. If, therefore, there be any thing, +at this distance, wherein I, in my little sphere, may be able to serve +your nephew or you, I beg you, by the memory of our deceased friend, +to let me know it, that you may see that one who loved him so well, +cannot but be tenderly concerned for his son, nor be otherwise than I +am, Sir, etc. + + + + +SAMUEL PEPYS + +1633-1703 + + + +TO GEORGE, LORD BERKELEY + +_An explanation_ + + +Derby House, 22 _Feb._ 1677-8 + +MY LORD, + +I am greatly owing to your Lordship for your last favour at St. +John's, and did, till now, reckon myself under no less a debt to my +Ladies for the honour at the same time done me, in their commands +touching Mr. Bonithan. But, my Lord, I have lately had the misfortune +of being undeceived in the latter, by coming to know the severity with +which some of my Ladies are pleased to discourse of me in relation +thereto. I assure your Lordship, I was so big with the satisfaction of +having an opportunity given me by my Ladies at once of obliging them, +paying a small respect to you, and doing a good office to a deserving +gentleman, that I did not let one day pass before I had bespoke and +obtained His Majesty's and Royal Highness's promise of favour in Mr. +Bonithan's behalf: and was so far afterwards from failing him in my +further assistances with Captain Trevanion and others, that I took +early care to secure him a lieutenancy, by a commission actually +signed for him by the King, in the ship _Stavereene_, relying upon the +character Captain Trevanion had given me of his capacity to abide +the examination, established by the King, upon the promotion of +lieutenants; which was not only the most I should have done in the +case of a brother, but more than ever I did in any man's case before, +or, for his sake, do think I shall ever do again. True it is, my Lord, +that when, upon his examination by the officers of the Navy, he was +found not so fully qualified for the office of lieutenant as was +requisite, I did with all respect, and to his seeming satisfaction, +advise him to pass a little longer time in the condition he was +then in, under a stricter application of himself to the practice of +navigation. And, in pursuance of my duty to the King, I did acquaint +him also with Mr. Bonithan's present unreadiness; and had, therefore, +a command given me for conferring the commission prepared for him upon +another, who, upon examination, at the same time with Mr. Bonithan, +was found better qualified for it. As to what I understand my Ladies +are pleased to entertain themselves and others with, to my reproach, +as if money had been wanting in the case, it is a reproach lost upon +me, my Lord, who am known to be so far from needing any purgation in +the point of selling places, as never to have taken so much as my fee +for a commission or warrant to any one officer in the Navy, within +the whole time, now near twenty years, that I have had the honour of +serving His Majesty therein--a self-denial at this day so little in +fashion, and yet so chargeable to maintain, that I take no pride, +and as little pleasure, in the mentioning it, further than it happily +falls in here to my defence against the mistake the Ladies seem +disposed to arraign me by on this occasion. Besides that, in the +particular case of this gentleman, Lieut. Beele, who enjoys the +commission designed for Mr. Bonithan, he is one whose face I never +saw either before or since the time of his receiving it, nor know one +friend he has in the world to whom he owes this benefit, other than +the King's justice and his own modest merit: which, having said, it +remains only that I assure your Lordship what I have so said, is not +calculated with any regard to, much less any repining at, the usage +the Ladies are pleased to show me in this affair, for 'tis fit I bear +it, but to acquit myself to your Lordship in my demeanour towards +them, as becomes their and, my Lord, + +Your Lordship's most obedient Servant. + + + +TO MRS. STEWARD + +_A wedding in the city_ + + +20 _Sept._ 1695. + +MADAM, + +You are very good, and pray continue so, by as many kind messages as +you can, and notices of your health, such as the bearer brings you +back my thanks for, and a thousand services. Here's a sad town, and +God knows when it will be a better, our losses at sea making a very +melancholy exchange at both ends of it; the gentlewomen of this, to +say nothing of the other, sitting with their arms across, without a +yard of muslin in their shops to sell, while the ladies, they tell +me, walk pensively by, without a shilling, I mean a good one, in their +pockets to buy. One thing there is indeed, that comes in my way as a +Governor, to hear of, which carries a little mirth with it, and indeed +is very odd. Two wealthy citizens that are lately dead, and left their +estates, one to a Blue Coat boy, and the other to a Blue Coat girl, in +Christ's Hospital. The extraordinariness of which has led some of +the magistrates to carry it on to a match, which is ended in a public +wedding; he in his habit of blue satin, led by two of the girls, and +she in blue, with an apron green and petticoat yellow, all of sarsnet, +led by two of the boys of the house, through Cheapside to Guildhall +Chapel, where they were married by the Dean of St. Paul's, she given +by my Lord Mayor. The wedding dinner, it seems, was kept in the +Hospital Hall, but the great day will be tomorrow, St Matthew's; when, +so much I am sure of, my Lord Mayor will be there, and myself also +have had a ticket of invitation thither, and if I can, will be there +too, but, for other particulars, I must refer you to my next, and so, + +Dear madam, Adieu. + +Bow Bells are just now ringing, ding dong, but whether for this, I +cannot presently tell; but it is likely enough, for I have known them +ring upon much foolisher occasions, and lately too. + + + +TO JOHN EVELYN + +_Reply to an old friend_ + + +Clapham, 7 _Aug._ 1700. + +I have no herds to mind, nor will my Doctor allow me any books here. +What then, will you say, too, are you doing? Why, truly, nothing that +will bear naming, and yet I am not, I think, idle; for who can, that +has so much of past and to come to think on, as I have? And thinking, +I take it, is working, though many forms beneath what my Lady and you +are doing. But pray remember what o'clock it is with you and me; and +be not now, by overstirring, too bold with your present complaint, any +more than I dare be with mine, which, too, has been no less kind in +giving me my warning, than the other to you, and to neither of us, +I hope, and, through God's mercy, dare say, either unlooked for or +unwelcome. I wish, nevertheless, that I were able to administer any +thing towards the lengthening that precious rest of life which God has +thus long blessed you, and, in you, mankind, with; but I have always +been too little regardful of my own health, to be a prescriber to +others. I cannot give myself the scope I otherwise should in talking +now to you at this distance, on account of the care extraordinary I am +now under from Mrs. Skinner's being suddenly fallen very ill; but ere +long I may possibly venture at entertaining you with something from +my young man in exchange--I don't say in payment, for the pleasure you +gratify me with from yours, whom I pray God to bless with continuing +but what he is! and I'll ask no more for him. + + + + +JONATHAN SWIFT + +1667-1745 + + + +TO STELLA + +_The Dean at home_ + + +London, 16 _Jan._ 1710-11. + +O faith, young women, I have sent my letter N. 13, without one crumb +of an answer to any of MD's; there is for you now; and yet Presto +ben't angry faith, not a bit, only he will begin to be in pain next +Irish post, except he sees MD's little handwriting in the glass frame +at the bar of St. James's Coffee-house, where Presto would never go +but for that purpose. Presto's at home, God help him, every night from +six till bed time, and has as little enjoyment or pleasure in life at +present as anybody in the world, although in full favour with all the +ministry. As hope saved, nothing gives Presto any sort of dream of +happiness, but a letter now and then from his own dearest MD. I love +the expectation of it, and when it does not come, I comfort myself, +that I have it yet to be happy with. Yes faith, and when I write to +MD, I am happy too; it is just as if methinks you were here, and I +prating to you, and telling you where I have been: Well, says you, +Presto, come, where have you been to-day? come, let's hear now. And so +then I answer; Ford and I were visiting Mr. Lewis, and Mr. Prior, and +Prior has given me a fine Plautus, and then Ford would have had me +dine at his lodgings, and so I would not; and so I dined with him at +an eating-house; which I have not done five times since I came here; +and so I came home, after visiting Sir Andrew Fountaine's mother and +sister, and Sir Andrew Fountaine is mending, though slowly. + +17. I was making, this morning, some general visits, and at twelve I +called at the coffee-house for a letter from MD; so the man said he +had given it to Patrick; then I went to the Court of requests and +treasury to find Mr. Harley, and after some time spent in mutual +reproaches, I promised to dine with him; I stayed there till seven, +then called at Sterne's and Leigh's to talk about your box, and to +have it sent by Smyth; Sterne says he has been making inquiries, +and will set things right as soon as possible. I suppose it lies at +Chester, at least I hope so, and only wants a lift over to you.... +Well, so I came home to read my letter from Stella, but the dog +Patrick was abroad; at last he came, and I got my letter; I found +another hand had superscribed it; when I opened it, I found it written +all in French, and subscribed Bernage: faith, I was ready to fling +it at Patrick's head. Bernage tells me, he had been to desire your +recommendation to me to make him a captain; and your cautious answer, +'That he had as much power with me as you,' was a notable one; if you +were here, I would present you to the ministry as a person of ability. +Bernage should let me know where to write to him; this is the second +letter I have had without any direction; however, I beg I may not have +a third, but that you will ask him, and send me how I shall direct +to him. In the meantime, tell him, that if regiments are to be raised +here, as he says, I will speak to George Granville, secretary at war, +to make him a captain; and use what other interest I conveniently can. +I think that is enough, and so tell him, and do not trouble me with +his letters when I expect them from MD; do you hear, young women, +write to Presto. + +18. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary St. John, and we were to +dine at Mr. Harley's alone, about some business of importance; but +there were two or three gentlemen there. Mr. Secretary and I went +together from his office to Mr. Harley's, and thought to have been +very wise; but the deuce a bit: the company stayed, and more came, +and Harley went away at seven, and the secretary and I stayed with the +rest of the company till eleven; I would then have had him come away, +but he was in for it; and though he swore he would come away at that +flask, there I left him. I wonder at the civility of these people; +when he saw I would drink no more, he would always pass the bottle by +me, and yet I could not keep the toad from drinking himself, nor he +would not let me go neither, nor Masham, who was with us. When I +got home, I found a parcel directed to me, and opening it, I found +a pamphlet written entirely against myself, not by name, but against +something I writ: it is pretty civil, and affects to be so, and I +think I will take no notice of it; it is against something written +very lately; and indeed I know not what to say, nor do I care; and so +you are a saucy rogue for losing your money to-day at Stoyte's; to let +that bungler beat you, my Stella, are not you ashamed? well, I forgive +you this once, never do so again; no, noooo. Kiss and be friends, +sirrah.--Come, let me go sleep, I go earlier to bed than formerly; and +have not been out so late these two months; but the secretary was in a +drinking humour. So good night, myownlittledearsaucyinsolentrogues. + +19. Then you read that long word in the last line, no faith have not +you. Well, when will this letter come from our MD? to-morrow or next +day without fail; yes faith, and so it is coming. This was an insipid +snowy day, and I dined gravely with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and came home, +and am now got to bed a little after ten; I remember old Culpepper's +maxim: + + Would you have a settled head, + You must early go to bed: + I tell you, and I tell it again, + You must be in bed at ten. + +20. And so I went to-day with my new wig, o hoao, to visit Lady +Worsley, whom I had not seen before, although she was near a month in +town. Then I walked in the Park to find Mr. Ford, whom I had promised +to meet, and coming down the Mall, who should come towards me but +Patrick, and gives me five letters out of his pocket. I read the +superscription of the first, Pshoh, said I; of the second, pshoh +again; of the third, pshah, pshah, pshah; of the fourth, a gad, a gad, +a gad, I am in a rage; of the fifth and last, O hoooa; ay marry +this is something, this is our MD, so truly we opened it, I think +immediately, and it began the most impudently in the world, thus; Dear +Presto, we are even thus far. Now we are even, quoth Stephen, when he +gave his wife six blows for one. I received your ninth four days after +I had sent my thirteenth. But I'll reckon with you anon about that, +young women. Why did not you recant at the end of your letter when you +got your eleventh? tell me that, huzzies base, were we even then, were +we, sirrah? but I will not answer your letter now, I will keep it for +another time. We had a great deal of snow to-day, and it is terrible +cold.... + +21. _Morning_. It has snowed terribly all night, and is vengeance +cold. I am not yet up, but cannot write long; my hands will freeze. Is +there a good fire, Patrick? Yes, sir, then I will rise; come take away +the candle. You must know I write on the dark side of my bedchamber, +and am forced to have a candle till I rise, for the bed stands between +me and the window, and I keep the curtains shut this cold weather. +So pray let me rise, and, Patrick, here, take away the candle.--_At +night._ We are now here in high frost and snow, the largest fire can +hardly keep us warm. It is very ugly walking, a baker's boy broke his +thigh yesterday. I walk slow, make short steps, and never tread on my +heel. It is a good proverb the Devonshire people have: + + Walk fast in snow, + In frost walk slow, + And still as you go, + Tread on your toe: + + When frost and snow are both together, + Sit by the fire and spare shoe leather. + +22. _Morning_. Starving, starving, uth, uth, uth, uth, uth.--Do not +you remember I used to come into your chamber, and turn Stella out of +her chair, and rake up the fire in a cold morning, and cry uth, uth, +uth? O faith, I must rise, my hand is so cold I can write no more.... + +26, 27, 28, 29, 30. I have been so lazy and negligent these last four +days, that I could not write to MD. My head is not in order, and yet +it is not absolutely ill, but giddyish, and makes me listless; I walk +every day, and hope I shall grow better. I wish I were with MD; I long +for spring and good weather, and then I will come over. My riding in +Ireland keeps me well. I am very temperate, and eat of the easiest +meats as I am directed, and hope the malignity will go off; but +one fit shakes me a long time. I dined to-day with Lord Mountjoy, +yesterday at Mr. Stone's in the city, on Sunday at Vanhomrigh's, +Saturday with Ford, and Friday I think at Vanhomrigh's, and that's all +the journal I can send MD; for I was so lazy while I was well that I +could not write. I thought to have sent this to-night, but it is ten, +and I'll go to bed, and write on the other side to Parsivol to-morrow, +and send it on Thursday; and so good night my dears, and love Presto, +and be healthy, and Presto will be so too. + + + +To LORD TREASURER OXFORD + +_The Dean makes his bow_ + + +1 _July_, 1714. + +MY LORD, + +When I was with you, I have said more than once, that I would never +allow quality or station made any real difference between men. Being +now absent and forgotten, I have changed my mind: you have a thousand +people who can pretend they love you, with as much appearance of +sincerity as I, so that, according to common justice, I can have but +a thousandth part in return of what I give. And this difference is +wholly owing to your station. And the misfortune is still the greater, +because I always loved you just so much the worse for your station: +for, in your public capacity, you have often angered me to the heart, +but, as a private man, never once. So that, if I only look toward +myself, I could wish you a private man to-morrow: for I have nothing +to ask; at least nothing that you will give, which is the same thing: +and then you would see whether I should not with much more willingness +attend you in a retirement, whenever you please to give me leave, than +ever I did at London or Windsor. From these sentiments I will never +write to you, if I can help it, otherwise than as to a private person, +or allow myself to have been obliged to you in any other capacity. + +The memory of one great instance of your candour and justice, I will +carry to my grave; that having been in a manner domestic with you +for almost four years, it was never in the power of any public or +concealed enemy to make you think ill of me, though malice and envy +were often employed to that end. If I live, posterity shall know that, +and more; which, though you, and somebody that shall be nameless, seem +to value less than I could wish, is all the return I can make you. +Will you give me leave to say how I would desire to stand in your +memory? As one, who was truly sensible of the honour you did him, +though he was too proud to be vain upon it; as one, who was neither +assuming, officious, nor teasing; who never wilfully misrepresented +persons or facts to you, nor consulted his passions when he gave +a character; and lastly, as one, whose indiscretions proceeded +altogether from a weak head, and not an ill heart. I will add one +thing more, which is the highest compliment I can make, that I never +was afraid of offending you, nor am now in any pain for the manner +I write to you in. I have said enough; and, like one at your levee, +having made my bow, I shrink back into the crowd. + + + +TO DR. SHERIDAN + +_News from the country_ + + +25 _Jan._ 1724-5. + +I have a packet of letters, which I intended to send by Molly, who has +been stopped three days by the bad weather; but now I will send them +by the post to-morrow to Kells, and enclosed to Mr. Tickell there is +one to you, and one to James Stopford. + +I can do no work this terrible weather; which has put us all seventy +times out of patience. I have been deaf nine days, and am now pretty +well recovered again. + +Pray desire Mr. Stanton and Worral to continue giving themselves some +trouble with Mr. Pratt; but let it succeed or not, I hope I shall be +easy. + +Mrs. Johnson swears it will rain till Michaelmas. She is so pleased +with her pick-axe, that she wears it fastened to her girdle on her +left side, in balance with her watch. The lake is strangely overflown, +and we are desperate about turf, being forced to buy it three miles +off: and Mrs. Johnson (God help her!) gives you many a curse. Your +mason is come, but cannot yet work upon your garden. Neither can I +agree with him about the great wall. For the rest, _vide_ the letter +you will have on Monday, if Mr. Tickell uses you well. + +The news of this country is, that the maid you sent down, John +Farelly's sister, is married; but the portion and settlement are yet a +secret. The cows here never give milk on midsummer eve. + +You would wonder what carking and caring there is among us for small +beer and lean mutton, and starved lamb, and stopping gaps, and driving +cattle from the corn. In that we are all-to-be-Dingleyed. + +The ladies' room smokes; the rain drops from the skies into the +kitchen; our servants eat and drink like the devil, and pray for rain, +which entertains them at cards and sleep; which are much lighter than +spades, sledges, and crows. Their maxim is, + + Eat like a Turk, + Sleep like a dormouse; + Be last at work, + At victuals foremost. + +Which is all at present; hoping you and your good family are well, as +we are all at this present writing &c. + +Robin has just carried out a load of bread and cold meat for +breakfast; this is their way; but now a cloud hangs over them, for +fear it should hold up, and the clouds blow off. + +I write on till Molly comes in for the letter. O, what a draggletail +will she be before she gets to Dublin! I wish she may not happen to +fall upon her back by the way. + +I affirm against Aristotle, that cold and rain congregate homogenes, +for they gather together you and your crew, at whist, punch, and +claret. Happy weather for Mrs. Maul, Betty, and Stopford, and all true +lovers of cards and laziness. + +THE BLESSINGS OF A COUNTRY LIFE. + + Far from our debtors, + No Dublin letters, + Not seen by our betters. + +THE PLAGUES OF A COUNTRY LIFE. + + A companion with news, + A great want of shoes; + Eat lean meat, or choose; + A church without pews. + Our horses astray, + No straw, oats, or hay; + December in May, + Our boys run away, + All servants at play. + +Molly sends for the letter. + + + +TO ALEXANDER POPE + +_Mostly about Gulliver_ + + +Dublin, 17 _Nov._ 1726. + +I am just come from answering a letter of Mrs. Howard's, writ in such +mystical terms, that I should never have found out the meaning, if a +book had not been sent me called _Gulliver's Travels_, of which you +say so much in yours. I read the book over, and in the second volume +observed several passages which appear to be patched and altered, and +the style of a different sort, unless I am mistaken. Dr. Arbuthnot +likes the projectors least; others, you tell me, the flying island; +some think it wrong to be so hard upon whole bodies or corporations, +yet the general opinion is, that reflections on particular persons are +most to be blamed; so that in these cases, I think the best method is +to let censure and opinion take their course. A bishop here said, that +book was full of improbable lies, and for his part, he hardly believed +a word of it; and so much for Gulliver. + +Going to England is a very good thing, if it were not attended with +an ugly circumstance of returning to Ireland. It is a shame you do not +persuade your ministers to keep me on that side, if it were but by a +court expedient of keeping me in prison for a plotter; but at the same +time I must tell you, that such journeys very much shorten my life, +for a month here is very much longer than six at Twickenham. + +How comes friend Gay to be so tedious? Another man can publish fifty +thousand lies sooner than he can publish fifty fables.... Let me add, +that if I were Gulliver's friend, I would desire all my acquaintance +to give out that his copy was basely mangled and abused, and added to, +and blotted out by the printer; for so to me it seems in the second +volume particularly. + +Adieu. + + + +TO JOHN GAY + +_Enquiries into Mr. Gay's pursuits_ + + +Dublin, 4 _May_, 1732. + +I am now as lame as when you writ your letter, and almost as lame as +your letter itself, for want of that limb from my lady duchess, which +you promised, and without which I wonder how it could limp hither. I +am not in a condition to make a true step even on Amesbury Downs, and +I declare that a corporeal false step is worse than a political one: +nay, worse than a thousand political ones, for which I appeal to +courts and ministers, who hobble on and prosper without the sense of +feeling. To talk of riding and walking is insulting me, for I can +as soon fly as do either. It is your pride or laziness, more than +chair-hire, that makes the town expensive. No honour is lost by +walking in the dark; and in the day you may beckon a blackguard +boy under a gate, near your visiting place, (experto crede,) save +elevenpence, and get half-a-crown's worth of health. The worst of my +present misfortune is, that I eat and drink, and can digest neither +for want of exercise; and, to increase my misery, the knaves are +sure to find me at home, and make huge void spaces in my cellars. I +congratulate with you for losing your great acquaintance; in such a +case, philosophy teaches that we must submit, and be content with good +ones. I like Lord Cornbury's refusing his pension, but I demur at his +being elected for Oxford; which, I conceive, is wholly changed; and +entirely devoted to new principles; so it appeared to me the two last +times I was there. I find by the whole cast of your letter, that you +are as giddy and as volatile as ever: just the reverse of Mr. Pope, +who has always loved a domestic life from his youth. I was going to +wish you had some little place that you could call your own, but, I +profess I do not know you well enough to contrive any one system +of life that would please you. You pretend to preach up riding and +walking to the duchess, yet from my knowledge of you after twenty +years, you always joined a violent desire of perpetually shifting +places and company, with a rooted laziness, and an utter impatience of +fatigue. A coach and six horses is the utmost exercise you can bear; +and this only when you can fill it with such company as is best suited +to your taste, and how glad would you be if it could waft you in the +air to avoid jolting; while I, who am so much later in life, can, +or at least could, ride five hundred miles on a trotting horse. You +mortally hate writing, only because it is the thing you chiefly ought +to do; as well to keep up the vogue you have in the world, as to make +you easy in your fortune. You are merciful to everything but money, +your best friend, whom you treat with inhumanity. Be assured I will +hire people to watch all your motions, and to return me a faithful +account. Tell me, have you cured your absence of mind? can you attend +to trifles? can you at Amesbury write domestic libels to divert the +family and neighbouring squires for five miles round? or venture so +far on horseback, without apprehending a stumble at every step? can +you set the footmen a-laughing as they wait at dinner? and do the +duchess's women admire your wit? in what esteem are you with the vicar +of the parish? can you play with him at backgammon? have the farmers +found out that you cannot distinguish rye from barley, or an oak from +a crab-tree? You are sensible that I know the full extent of your +country skill is in fishing for roaches or gudgeons at the highest. + +I love to do you good offices with your friends, and therefore desire +you will show this letter to the duchess, to improve her grace's good +opinion of your qualifications, and convince her how useful you are +likely to be in the family. Her grace shall have the honour of my +correspondence again when she goes to Amesbury. Hear a piece of Irish +news; I buried the famous General Meredyth's father last night in my +cathedral, he was ninety-six years old; so that Mrs. Pope may live +seven years longer. You saw Mr. Pope in health, pray is he generally +more healthy than when I was among you? I would know how your own +health is, and how much wine you drink in a day? My stint in company +is a pint at noon, and half as much at night; but I often dine at home +like a hermit, and then I drink little or none at all. Yet I differ +from you, for I would have society, if I could get what I like, people +of middle understanding, and middle rank. + +Adieu. + + + + +JOSEPH ADDISON + +1672-1719 + + + +TO ALEXANDER POPE + +_Translation of Homer_ + + +26 _Oct._ 1713. + +I was extremely glad to receive a letter from you, but more so upon +reading the contents of it. The work you mention will, I dare say, +very sufficiently recommend itself when your name appears with the +proposals: and if you think I can any way contribute to the forwarding +of them, you cannot lay a greater obligation upon me, than by +employing me in such an office. As I have an ambition of having it +known that you are my friend, I shall be very proud of showing it by +this or any other instance. I question not but your translation will +enrich our tongue, and do honour to our country; for I conclude of +it already from those performances with which you have obliged the +public. I would only have you consider how it may most turn to your +advantage. Excuse my impertinence in this particular, which proceeds +from my zeal for your ease and happiness. The work would cost you a +great deal of time, and, unless you undertake it, will, I am afraid, +never be executed by any other; at least I know none of this age that +is equal to it besides yourself. + +I am at present wholly immersed in country business, and begin to take +a delight in it. I wish I might hope to see you here some time, and +will not despair of it, when you engage in a work that will require +solitude and retirement. + + + +TO MR. SECRETARY CRAGGS + +_A bequest_ + + +_June_ 1719. + +DEAR SIR, + +I cannot wish that any of my writings should last longer than the +memory of our friendship, and therefore I thus publicly bequeath them +to you, in return for the many valuable instances of your affection. + +That they may come to you with as little disadvantage as possible, +I have left the care of them to one, whom, by the experience of some +years, I know well-qualified to answer my intentions. He has already +the honour and happiness of being under your protection; and as he +will very much stand in need of it, I cannot wish him better than +that he may continue to deserve the favour and countenance of such a +patron. + +I have no time to lay out in forming such compliments as would but ill +suit that familiarity between us which was once my greatest pleasure, +and will be my greatest honour hereafter. Instead of them, accept of +my hearty wishes that the great reputation you have acquired so early, +may increase more and more, and that you may long serve your country +with those excellent talents and unblemished integrity, which have so +powerfully recommended you to the most gracious and amiable monarch +that ever filled a throne. May the frankness and generosity of your +spirit continue to soften and subdue your enemies, and gain you many +friends, if possible, as sincere as yourself. When you have found +such, they cannot wish you more true happiness than I, who am with the +greatest zeal, dear sir, + +Your most entirely affectionate friend +and faithful obedient servant. + + + + +SIR RICHARD STEELE + +1672-1729 + + + +TO MARY SCURLOCK + +_An explicit declaration_ + + +11 _Aug._ 1707. + +Madam,--I writ you on Saturday, by Mrs. Warren, and give you this +trouble to urge the same request I made then; which was, that I may be +admitted to wait upon you. I should be very far from desiring this if +it were a transgression of the most severe rules to allow it. I know +you are very much above the little arts which are frequent in your +sex, of giving unnecessary torment to their admirers; I therefore hope +you will do so much justice to the generous passion I have for you, as +to let me have an opportunity of acquainting you upon what motives +I pretend to your good opinion. I shall not trouble you with my +sentiments till I know how they will be received; and as I know no +reason why the difference of sex should make our language to each +other differ from the ordinary rules of right reason, I shall affect +plainness and sincerity in my discourse to you, as much as other +lovers do perplexity and rapture. Instead of saying 'I shall die for +you', I profess I should be glad to lead my life with you. You are +as beautiful, as witty, as prudent, and as good-humoured as any woman +breathing; but, I must confess to you, I regard all these excellences +as you will please to direct them for my happiness or misery. With me, +madam, the only lasting motive to love, is the hope of its becoming +mutual. I beg of you to let Mrs. Warren send me word when I may attend +you. I promise you, I will talk of nothing but indifferent things; +though, at the same time, I know not how I shall approach you in the +tender moment of first seeing you after this declaration which has +been made by, madam, + +Your most obedient and most faithful +humble servant. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A pleasing transport_ + + +Smith Street, Westminster, 1707. + +Madam,--I lay down last night with your image in my thoughts, and +have awakened this morning in the same contemplation. The pleasing +transport with which I am delighted has a sweetness in it attended +with a train of ten thousand soft desires, anxieties, and cares. +The day arises on my hopes with new brightness; youth, beauty, and +innocence are the charming objects that steal me from myself, and give +me joys above the reach of ambition, pride, or glory. Believe me, fair +one, to throw myself at your feet is giving myself the highest bliss +I know on earth. Oh, hasten, ye minutes! bring on the happy morning +wherein to be ever hers will make me look down on thrones! Dear Molly, +I am tenderly, passionately, faithfully thine. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A lover betrays himself_ + + +St. James's Coffee House, 1 _Sept._ 1707 + +Madam,--It is the hardest thing in the world to be in love, and yet to +attend to business. As for me, all who speak to me find me out, and I +must lock myself up, or other people will do it for me. + +A gentleman asked me this morning, 'What news from Lisbon?' and I +answered, 'She's exquisitely handsome.' Another desired to know when I +had been last at Hampton Court. I replied, 'It will be on Tuesday come +se'nnight.' Pr'ythee allow me at least to kiss your hand before that +day, that my mind may be in some composure. O love! + + A thousand torments dwell about thee! + Yet who would live to live without thee? + +Methinks I could write a volume to you; but all the language on earth +would fail in saying how much, and with what disinterested passion, I +am ever yours. + + + +TO HIS WIFE + +_He proposes an outing_ + + +Lord Sunderland's Office, 19 May, 1708. + +Eleven o'clock. + +Dear Prue,--I desire you to get the coach and yourself ready as soon +as you can conveniently, and call for me here, from whence we will go +and spend some time together in the fresh air in free conference. Let +my best periwig be put in the coach-box, and my new shoes, for it is +a great comfort to be well dressed in agreeable company. You are vital +life to your obliged, affectionate husband, and humble servant. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_His greatest affliction_ + + +12 _Aug._ 1708. + +Madam,--I have your letter, wherein you let me know that the little +dispute we have had is far from being a trouble to you; nevertheless +I assure you, any disturbance between us is the greatest affliction to +me imaginable. You talk of the judgement of the world; I shall never +govern my actions by it, but by the rules of morality and right +reason. I love you better than the light of my eyes or the life-blood +in my heart; but you are also to understand that neither my sight +shall be so far enchanted, nor my affection so much master of me, +as to make me forget our common interest. To attend my business as +I ought, and improve my fortune, it is necessary that my time and +my will should be under no direction but my own.... I write all this +rather to explain my own thoughts to you, than to answer your letter +distinctly. I enclose it to you, that upon second thoughts, you may +see the disrespectful manner in which you treat + +Your affectionate, faithful husband. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Four characteristic notes_ + + +I + +From the Press, one in the morning, 30 _Sept._ 1710. + +Dear Prue,--I am very sleepy and tired, but could not think of closing +my eyes till I had told you I am, dearest creature, + +Your most affectionate and faithful husband. + + +II + +Bloomsbury Square, 24 _Dec._ 1713. + +Dear Prue,--I dine with Lord Halifax and shall be at home half hour +after six. For thee I die, for thee I languish. + + +III + +16 _Feb._ 1716-17. + +Dear Prue,--Sober or not, I am ever yours. + + +IV + +Thursday, 3 in the afternoon, 2 _May_, 1717. + +I had a very painful night last night; but, after a little chocolate +an hour or two ago, and a chicken for dinner, am much more at ease. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The natural slave of beauty_. + + +20 _June_, 1717. + +Dear Prue,--I have yours of the 14th, and am infinitely obliged to you +for the length of it. I do not know another whom I could commend for +that circumstance; but where we entirely love, the continuance of +anything they do to please us is a pleasure. As for your relations, +once for all, pray take it for granted, that my regard and conduct +towards all and singular of them shall be as you direct. + +I hope, by the grace of God, to continue what you wish me, every +way, an honest man. My wife and my children are the objects that have +wholly taken up my heart; and as I am not invited or encouraged in +anything which regards the public, I am easy under that neglect or +envy of my past actions, and cheerfully contract that diffusive spirit +within the interests of my own family. You are the head of us; and I +stoop to a female reign as being naturally made the slave of beauty. +But to prepare for our manner of living when we are again together, +give me leave to say, while I am here at leisure, and come to lie at +Chelsea, what I think may contribute to our better way of living. +I very much approve Mrs. Evans and her husband; and if you take my +advice, I would have them a being in our house, and Mrs. Clark the +care and inspection of the nursery. I would have you entirely +at leisure to pass your time with me in diversions, in books, in +entertainments, and no manner of business intrude upon us but at +stated times. For, though you are made to be the delight of my eyes, +and food of all my senses and faculties, yet a turn of care +and housewifery, and I know not what prepossession against +conversation-pleasures, robs me of the witty and the handsome woman +to a degree not to be expressed. I will work my brains and fingers to +procure us plenty of all things, and demand nothing of you but to take +delight in agreeable dresses, cheerful discourses, and gay sights, +attended by me. This may be done by putting the kitchen and the +nursery in the hands I propose; and I shall have nothing to do but to +pass as much time at home as I possibly can, in the best company in +the world. We cannot tell here what to think of the trial of my Lord +Oxford; if the ministry are in earnest in that, and I should see it +will be extended to a length of time, I will leave them to themselves, +and wait upon you. Miss Moll grows a mighty beauty, and she shall be +very prettily dressed, as likewise shall Betty and Eugene: and if +I throw away a little money in adorning my brats, I hope you will +forgive me: they are, I thank God, all very well; and the charming +form of their mother has tempered the likeness they bear to their +rough sire, who is, with the greatest fondness, + +Your most obliged and obedient husband. + + + + +JOHN GAY + +1685-1732 + + + +TO JONATHAN SWIFT + +_Concerning Gulliver_ + + +17 _Nov._ 1726. + +About ten days ago a book was published here of the travels of one +Gulliver, which has been the conversation of the whole town ever +since: the whole impression sold in a week: and nothing is more +diverting than to hear the different opinions people give of it, +though all agree in liking it extremely. It is generally said that you +are the author; but I am told the bookseller declares, he knows +not from what hand it came. From the highest to the lowest it is +universally read, from the cabinet-council to the nursery. The +politicians to a man agree, that it is free from particular +reflections, but that the satire on general societies of men is +too severe. Not but we now and then meet with people of greater +perspicuity, who are in search for particular applications in every +leaf; and it is highly probable we shall have keys published to +give light into Gulliver's design. Lord ---- is the person who least +approves it, blaming it as a design of evil consequence to depreciate +human nature, at which it cannot be wondered that he takes most +offence, being himself the most accomplished of his species, and so +losing more than any other of that praise which is due both to the +dignity and virtue of a man. Your friend, my Lord Harcourt, commends +it very much, though he thinks in some places the matter too far +carried. The Duchess Dowager of Marlborough is in raptures at it; she +says she can dream of nothing else since she read it: she declares +that she has now found out that her whole life has been lost in +caressing the worst part of mankind, and treating the best as her +foes: and that if she knew Gulliver, though he had been the worst +enemy she ever had, she should give up her present acquaintance for +his friendship. You may see by this, that you are not much injured +by being supposed the author of this piece. If you are, you have +disobliged us, and two or three of your best friends, in not giving +us the least hint of it while you were with us; and in particular Dr. +Arbuthnot, who says it is ten thousand pities he had not known it, he +could have added such abundance of things upon every subject. Among +lady critics, some have found out that Mr. Gulliver had a particular +malice to maids of honour. Those of them who frequent the church, say +his design is impious, and that it is depreciating the works of the +Creator. + +Notwithstanding, I am told the princess has read it with great +pleasure. As to other critics, they think the flying island is the +least entertaining; and so great an opinion the town have of the +impossibility of Gulliver's writing at all below himself, it is agreed +that part was not writ by the same hand, though this has its defenders +too. It has passed lords and commons, _nemine contradicente_; and the +whole town, men, women, and children, are quite full of it. + +Perhaps I may all this time be talking to you of a book you have never +seen, and which has not yet reached Ireland; if it has not, I believe +what we have said will be sufficient to recommend it to your reading, +and that you will order me to send it to you. + +But it will be much better to come over yourself, and read it here, +where you will have the pleasure of variety of commentators, to +explain the difficult passages to you. + +We all rejoice that you have fixed the precise time of your coming to +be _cum hirundine prima_; which we modern naturalists pronounce, +ought to be reckoned, contrary to Pliny, in this northern latitude of +fifty-two degrees, from the end of February, Styl. Greg., at furthest. +But to us, your friends, the coming of such a black swallow as you +will make a summer in the worst of seasons. We are no less glad at +your mention of Twickenham and Dawley; and in town you know, you have +a lodging at court. + +The princess is clothed in Irish silk; pray give our service to the +weavers. We are strangely surprised to hear that the bells in Ireland +ring without your money. I hope you do not write the thing that is +not. We are afraid that B---- hath been guilty of that crime, that you +(like a houyhnhnm) have treated him as a yahoo, and discarded him your +service. I fear you do not understand these modish terms, which every +creature now understands but yourself. + +You tell us your wine is bad, and that the clergy do not frequent your +house, which we look upon to be tautology. The best advice we can give +you is, to make them a present of your wine, and come away to better. + +You fancy we envy you, but you are mistaken; we envy those you are +with, for we cannot envy the man we love. Adieu. + + + + +ALEXANDER POPE + +1688-1744 + + + +TO WILLIAM WYCHERLEY + +_Dryden and his critics_ + + +Binfield in Windsor Forest, 26 _Dec_. 1704. + +It was certainly a great satisfaction to me to see and converse with +a man, whom in his writings I had so long known with pleasure; but +it was a high addition to it, to hear you, at our very first meeting, +doing justice to your dead friend Mr. Dryden. I was not so happy as to +know him: _Virgilium tantum vidi_. Had I been born early enough I +must have known and loved him: for I have been assured, not only +by yourself, but by Mr. Congreve and Sir William Trumbul, that his +personal qualities were as amiable as his poetical, notwithstanding +the many libellous misrepresentations of them, against which the +former of these gentlemen has told me he will one day vindicate him. I +suppose those injuries were begun by the violence of party, but it +is no doubt they were continued by envy at his success and fame. And +those scribblers who attacked him in his latter times, were only like +gnats in a summer's evening, which are never very troublesome but in +the finest and most glorious season; for his fire, like the sun's, +shined clearest towards its setting. + +You must not therefore imagine, that when you told me my own +performances were above those critics, I was so vain as to believe it; +and yet I may not be so humble as to think myself quite below their +notice. For critics, as they are birds of prey, have ever a natural +inclination to carrion: and though such poor writers as I are but +beggars, no beggar is so poor but he can keep a cur, and no author +is so beggarly but he can keep a critic. I am far from thinking the +attacks of such people any honour or dishonour even to me, much less +to Mr. Dryden. I agree with you that whatever lesser wits have arisen +since his death are but like stars appearing when the sun is set, that +twinkle only in his absence, and with the rays they have borrowed +from him. Our wit (as you call it) is but reflection or imitation, +therefore scarce to be called ours. True wit, I believe, may be +defined a justness of thought, and a facility of expression.... +However, this is far from a complete definition; pray help me to a +better, as I doubt not you can. + + + +TO JOSEPH ADDISON + +_A few thoughts from a rambling head_ + + +14 _Dec_. 1713. + +I have been lying in wait for my own imagination, this week and more, +and watching what thoughts came up in the whirl of the fancy, that +were worth communicating to you in a letter. But I am at length +convinced that my rambling head can produce nothing of that sort; so +I must e'en be content with telling you the old story, that I love +you heartily. I have often found by experience, that nature and +truth, though never so low or vulgar, are yet pleasing when openly and +artlessly represented: it would be diverting to me to read the very +letters of an infant, could it write its innocent inconsistencies and +tautologies just as it thought them. This makes me hope a letter from +me will not be unwelcome to you, when I am conscious I write with more +unreservedness than ever man wrote, or perhaps talked, to another. I +trust your good nature with the whole range of my follies, and really +love you so well, that I would rather you should pardon me than esteem +me; since one is an act of goodness and benevolence, the other a kind +of constrained deference. + +You cannot wonder my thoughts are scarce consistent, when I tell you +how they are distracted. Every hour of my life my mind is strangely +divided; this minute perhaps I am above the stars, with a thousand +systems round about me, looking forward into a vast abyss, and +losing my whole comprehension in the boundless space of creation, in +dialogues with Whiston and the astronomers; the next moment I am below +all trifles, grovelling with T---- in the very centre of nonsense: now +I am recreated with the brisk sallies and quick turns of wit, which +Mr. Steele, in his liveliest and freest humours, darts about him; and +now levelling my application to the insignificant observations and +quirks of grammar of C---- and D----. + +Good God! what an incongruous animal is man! how unsettled in his best +part, his soul; and how changing and variable in his frame of body! +the constancy of the one shook by every notion, the temperament of the +other affected by every blast of wind! What is he, altogether, but a +mighty inconsistency; sickness and pain is the lot of one half of him, +doubt and fear the portion of the other! What a bustle we make about +passing our time when all our space is but a point! what aims and +ambitions are crowded into this little instant of our life, which +(as Shakespeare finely worded it) is rounded with a sleep! Our whole +extent of being is no more, in the eye of Him who gave it, than a +scarce perceptible moment of duration. Those animals whose circle of +living is limited to three or four hours, as the naturalists tell us, +are yet as long-lived, and possess as wide a field of action as man, +if we consider him with a view to all space and all eternity. Who +knows what plots, what achievements a mite may perform in his kingdom +of a grain of dust, within his life of some minutes; and of how much +less consideration than even this, is the life of man in the sight of +God, who is for ever and ever? + +Who that thinks in this train, but must see the world, and its +contemptible grandeurs, lessen before him at every thought? It is +enough to make one remain stupefied in a poise of inaction, void of +all desires, of all designs, of all friendships. + +But we must return (through our very condition of being) to our narrow +selves, and those things that affect ourselves: our passions, our +interests flow in upon us and unphilosophize us into mere mortals. For +my part, I never return so much into myself, as when I think of +you, whose friendship is one of the best comforts I have for the +insignificancy of myself. + + + +TO JONATHAN SWIFT + +_Friends to posterity_ + + +23 _March_, 1727-8. + +I send you a very odd thing, a paper printed in Boston, in New +England, wherein you will find a real person, a member of their +parliament, of the name of Jonathan Gulliver. If the fame of that +traveller has travelled thither, it has travelled very quick, to have +folks christened already by the name of the supposed author. But if +you object that no child so lately christened could be arrived at +years of maturity to be elected into parliament, I reply (to solve the +riddle) that the person is an Anabaptist, and not christened till +full age, which sets all right. However it be, the accident is very +singular that these two names should be united. + +Mr. Gay's opera has been acted near forty days running, and will +certainly continue the whole season. So he has more than a fence about +his thousand pounds; he will soon be thinking of a fence about his two +thousand. Shall no one of us live as we would wish each other to live? +Shall he have no annuity, you no settlement on this side, and I +no prospect of getting to you on the other? This world is made for +Caesar,--as Cato said, for ambitious, false, or flattering people to +domineer in; nay, they would not, by their good will, leave us our +very books, thoughts, or words in quiet. I despise the world yet, I +assure you, more than either Gay or you, and the court more than all +the rest of the world. As for those scribblers for whom you apprehend +I would suppress my _Dulness_ (which, by the way, for the future you +are to call by a more pompous name, the _Dunciad_), how much that nest +of hornets are my regard will easily appear to you when you read the +_Treatise of the Bathos_. + +At all adventures, yours and mine shall stand linked as friends +to posterity, both in verse and prose, and (as Tully calls it) _in +consuetudine studiorum_. Would to God our persons could but as well +and as surely be inseparable! I find my other ties dropping from me; +some worn off, some torn off, some relaxing daily: my greatest, both +by duty, gratitude, and humanity, time is shaking every moment, and +it now hangs but by a thread! I am many years the older for living so +much with one so old; much the more helpless for having been so long +helped and tendered by her; much the more considerate and tender, for +a daily commerce with one who required me justly to be both to her; +and consequently the more melancholy and thoughtful; and the less fit +for others, who want only in a companion or a friend to be amused or +entertained. My constitution too has had its share of decay as well as +my spirits, and I am as much in the decline at forty as you at sixty. +I believe we should be fit to live together could I get a little more +health, which might make me not quite insupportable. Your deafness +would agree with my dulness; you would not want me to speak when +you could not hear. But God forbid you should be as destitute of the +social comforts of life as I must when I lose my mother; or that ever +you should lose your more useful acquaintance so utterly, as to turn +your thoughts to such a broken reed as I am, who could so ill supply +your wants. I am extremely troubled at the return of your deafness; +you cannot be too particular in the accounts of your health to me; +everything you do or say in this kind obliges me, nay, delights me, +to see the justice you do me in thinking me concerned in all your +concerns; so that though the pleasantest thing you can tell me be that +you are better or easier; next to that it pleases me that you make me +the person you would complain to. + +As the obtaining the love of valuable men is the happiest end I +know of this life, so the next felicity is to get rid of fools and +scoundrels; which I cannot but own to you was one part of my design in +falling upon these authors, whose incapacity is not greater than their +insincerity, and of whom I have always found (if I may quote myself), + + That each bad author is as bad a friend. + +This poem will rid me of these insects. + + Cedite, Romani scriptores, cedite, Graii; + _Nescio quid_ maius nascitur Iliade. + +I mean than _my Iliad_; and I call it _Nescio quid_, which is a degree +of modesty; but however, if it silence these fellows, it must be +something greater than any _Iliad_ in Christendom. Adieu. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A farming friend, and the Dunciad_ + + +Dawley, 28 _June_, 1728. + +I now hold the pen for my Lord Bolingbroke, who is reading your +letter between two haycocks, but his attention is somewhat diverted by +casting his eyes on the clouds, not in admiration of what you say, +but for fear of a shower. He is pleased with your placing him in the +triumvirate between yourself and me: though he says, that he doubts he +shall fare like Lepidus, while one of us runs away with all the power, +like Augustus, and another with all the pleasures, like Anthony. It is +upon a foresight of this that he has fitted up his farm, and you will +agree that his scheme of retreat at least is not founded upon weak +appearances. Upon his return from the Bath, all peccant humours, he +finds, are purged out of him; and his great temperance and economy are +so signal, that the first is fit for my constitution, and the latter +would enable you to lay up so much money as to buy a bishopric in +England. As to the return of his health and vigour, were you here, you +might inquire of his haymakers; but as to his temperance, I can answer +that (for one whole day) we have had nothing for dinner but mutton +broth, beans, and bacon, and a barn-door fowl. + +Now his lordship is run after his cart, I have a moment left to myself +to tell you, that I overheard him yesterday agree with a painter +for £200, to paint his country hall with trophies of rakes, spades, +prongs, &c., and other ornaments, merely to countenance his calling +this place a farm--now turn over a new leaf. + +He bids me assure you, he should be sorry not to have more schemes of +kindness for his friends than of ambition for himself; there, though +his schemes may be weak, the motives at least are strong; and he +says farther, if you could bear as great a fall and decrease of your +revenues, as he knows by experience he can, you would not live in +Ireland an hour. + +The _Dunciad_ is going to be printed in all pomp, with the +inscription, which makes me proudest. It will be attended with +_proeme, prolegomena, testimonia scriptorum, index authorum_, and +notes _variorum_. As to the latter, I desire you to read over the +text, and make a few in any way you like best; whether dry raillery, +upon the style and way of commenting of trivial critics; or humourous, +upon the authors in the poem; or historical, of persons, places, +times; or explanatory, or collecting the parallel passages of the +ancients. Adieu. I am pretty well, my mother not ill, Dr. Arbuthnot +vexed with his fever by intervals; I am afraid he declines, and we +shall lose a worthy man: I am troubled about him very much. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_An invitation to England_ + + +23 _March_, 1736-7. + +Though you were never to write to me, yet what you desired in your +last, that I would write often to you, would be a very easy task: for +every day I talk with you, and of you, in my heart; and I need only +set down what that is thinking of. The nearer I find myself verging to +that period of life which is to be labour and sorrow, the more I prop +myself upon those few supports that are left me. People in this state +are like props indeed; they cannot stand alone, but two or more of +them can stand, leaning and bearing upon one another. I wish you and I +might pass this part of life together. My only necessary care is at +an end. I am now my own master too much; my house is too large; my +gardens furnish too much wood and provision for my use. My servants +are sensible and tender of me; they have intermarried, and are become +rather low friends than servants; and to all those that I see here +with pleasure, they take a pleasure in being useful. I conclude this +is your case too in your domestic life, and I sometimes think of your +old housekeeper as my nurse, though I tremble at the sea, which only +divides us. As your fears are not so great as mine, and I firmly hope +your strength still much greater, is it utterly impossible it might +once more be some pleasure to you to see England? My sole motive in +proposing France to meet in, was the narrowness of the passage by sea +from hence, the physicians having told me the weakness of my breast, +&c., is such, as a sea-sickness might endanger my life. Though one or +two of our friends are gone since you saw your native country, there +remain a few more who will last so till death; and who I cannot but +hope have an attractive power to draw you back to a country which +cannot quite be sunk or enslaved, while such spirits remain. And let +me tell you, there are a few more of the same spirit, who would awaken +all your old ideas, and revive your hopes of her future recovery and +virtue. These look up to you with reverence, and would be animated by +the sight of him at whose soul they have taken fire in his writings, +and derived from thence as much love of their species as is consistent +with a contempt for the knaves in it. + +I could never be weary, except at the eyes, of writing to you; but my +real reason (and a strong one it is) for doing it so seldom, is fear; +fear of a very great and experienced evil, that of my letters being +kept by the partiality of friends, and passing into the hands and +malice of enemies, who publish them with all their imperfections on +their head, so that I write not on the common terms of honest men. + +Would to God you would come over with Lord Orrery, whose care of you +in the voyage I could so certainly depend on; and bring with you your +old housekeeper and two or three servants. I have room for all, a +heart for all, and (think what you will) a fortune for all. We could, +were we together, contrive to make our last days easy, and leave some +sort of monument, what friends two wits could be in spite of all the +fools in the world. Adieu. + + + + +SAMUEL RICHARDSON + +1689-1761 + + + +TO MISS MULSO + +_A discussion on love_ + + +3 _Sept_. 1751. + +In another place, you are offended with the word gratitude; as if your +idea of love excluded gratitude. + +And further on, you are offended that I call this same passion 'a +little selfish passion'. + +And you say that you have known few girls, and still fewer men, whom +you have thought 'capable of being in love'. + +'By this', proceed you, 'you will see that my ideas of the word love +are different from yours, when you call it a little selfish passion.' + +Now, madam, if that passion is not little and selfish that makes two +vehement souls prefer the gratification of each other, often to a +sense of duty, and always to the whole world without them, be pleased +to tell me what is? And pray be so good as to define to me what the +noble passion is, of which so few people of either sex are capable. +Give me your ideas of it. + +I put not this question as a puzzler, a bamboozler, but purely for +information; and that I may make my Sir Charles susceptible of the +generous (may I say generous?) flame, and yet know what he is about, +yet be a reasonable man. + +Harriet's passion is founded in gratitude for relief given her in a +great exigence. But the man who rescued her is not, it seems, to have +such a word as gratitude in his head, in return for her love. + +I repeat, that I will please you if I can; please you, Miss Mulso, +I here mean (before I meant not you particularly, my dear, but your +sex), in Sir Charles's character; and I sincerely declare, that I +would rather form his character to your liking, than to the liking of +three parts out of four of the persons I am acquainted with. + +You are one of my best girls, and best judges. Of whom have I the +opinion that I have of Miss Mulso on these nice subjects?--I ask +therefore repeatedly for your definition of the passion which you +dignify by the word noble; and from which you exclude everything mean, +little, or selfish. + +And you really think it marvellous that a young woman should find a +man of exalted merit to be in love with? Why, truly, I am half of your +mind; for how should people find what, in general, they do not seek? +Yet what good creatures are many girls! They will be in love for all +that. + +Why, yes, to be sure, they would be glad of a Sir Charles Grandison, +and prefer him even to a Lovelace, were he capable of being terribly +in love. And yet, I know one excellent girl who is afraid 'that ladies +in general will think him too wise'.--Dear, dear girls, help me to a +few monkey-tricks to throw into his character, in order to shield him +from contempt for his wisdom. + +'It is one of my maxims,' you say, 'that people even of bad hearts +will admire and love people of good ones.' Very true!--and yet +admiration and love, in the sense before us, do not always shake +hands, except at parting, and with an intention never to meet again. I +have known women who professed to admire good men, but have chosen +to marry men--not so good, when lovers of both sorts have tendered +themselves to their acceptance. There is something very pretty in the +sound of the word wild, added to the word fellow; and good sense is +a very grateful victim to be sacrificed on the altar of love. Fervour +and extravagance in expressions will please. How shall a woman, +who, moreover, loves to be admired, know a man's heart, but from +his lips?--Let him find flattery, and she will find credulity. Sweet +souls! can they be always contradicting? + +You believe it is not in human nature, however depraved, to prefer +evil to good in another, whatever people may do in themselves. Why, no +one would really think so, did not experience convince us that many, +very many young women, in the article of marriage, though not before +thought to be very depraved, are taken by this green sickness of the +soul, and prefer dirt and rubbish to wholesome diet. The result of the +matter is this, with very many young women: they will admire a good +man, but they will marry a bad one. Are not rakes pretty fellows? + +But one thing let me add, to comfort you in relation to Harriet's +difficulties: I intend to make her shine by her cordial approbation, +as she goes along, of every good action of her beloved. She is +humbled by her love (suspense in love is a mortifier) to think herself +inferior to his sisters; but I intend to raise her above them, even +in her own just opinion; and when she shines out the girl worthy of +a man, not exalt, but reward her, and at the same time make him think +himself highly rewarded by the love of so frank and so right an heart. + +There now!--Will that do, my Miss Mulso? + +I laid indeed a heavy hand on the good Clarissa. But I had begun with +her, with a view to the future saint in her character; and could she, +but by sufferings, shine as she does? + +Do you, my dear child, look upon me as your paternal friend. + + + + +LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU + +1689-1762 + + + +TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR + +_The Viennese court_ + + +Vienna, 14 _Sept_. o.s. [1716]. + +Though I have so lately troubled you, my dear sister, with a long +letter, yet I will keep my promise in giving you an account of my +first going to court. + +In order to that ceremony, I was squeezed up in a gown, and adorned +with a gorget and the other implements thereunto belonging: a dress +very inconvenient, but which certainly shews the neck and shape +to great advantage. I cannot forbear in this place giving you some +description of the fashions here, which are more monstrous and +contrary to all common sense and reason, than 'tis possible for you +to imagine. They build certain fabrics of gauze on their heads about +a yard high, consisting of three or four stories, fortified with +numberless yards of heavy ribbon. The foundation of this structure is +a thing they call a _Bourle_, which is exactly of the same shape +and kind, but about four times as big, as those rolls our prudent +milk-maids make use of to fix their pails upon. This machine they +cover with their own hair, which they mix with a great deal of false, +it being a particular beauty to have their heads too large to go into +a moderate tub. Their hair is prodigiously powdered, to conceal the +mixture, and set out with three or four rows of bodkins (wonderfully +large, that stick two or three inches from their hair), made of +diamonds, pearls, red, green, and yellow stones, that it certainly +requires as much art and experience to carry the load upright, as to +dance upon May-day with the garland. Their whalebone petticoats outdo +ours by several yards circumference, and cover some acres of ground. + +You may easily suppose how much this extraordinary dress sets off and +improves the natural ugliness with which God Almighty has been pleased +to endow them all generally. Even the lovely empress herself is +obliged to comply, in some degree, with these absurd fashions, which +they would not quit for all the world. I had a private audience +(according to ceremony) of half an hour, and then all the other ladies +were permitted to come make their court. I was perfectly charmed +with the empress: I cannot, however, tell you that her features are +regular; her eyes are not large, but have a lively look, full of +sweetness; her complexion the finest I ever saw; her nose and forehead +well-made, but her mouth has ten thousand charms that touch the +soul. When she smiles, 'tis with a beauty and sweetness that force +adoration. She has a vast quantity of fine fair hair; but then her +person!--one must speak of it poetically to do it rigid justice; all +that the poets have said of the mien of Juno, the air of Venus, comes +not up to the truth. The Graces move with her; the famous statue of +Medicis was not formed with more delicate proportion; nothing can be +added to the beauty of her neck and hands. Till I saw them, I did not +believe there were any in nature so perfect, and I was almost sorry +that my rank here did not permit me to kiss them; but they are kissed +sufficiently; for every body that waits on her pays that homage at +their entrance, and when they take leave. + +When the ladies were come in, she sat down to Quinze. I could not play +at a game I had never seen before, and she ordered me a seat at her +right hand, and had the goodness to talk to me very much, with that +grace so natural to her. I expected every moment when the men were to +come in to pay their court; but this drawing-room is very different +from that of England; no man enters it but the old grand-master, who +comes in to advertize the empress of the approach of the emperor. +His imperial majesty did me the honour of speaking to me in a very +obliging manner; but he never speaks to any of the other ladies; and +the whole passes with a gravity and air of ceremony that has something +very formal in it. + +The empress Amelia, dowager of the late emperor Joseph, came +this evening to wait on the reigning empress, followed by the two +archduchesses her daughters, who are very agreeable young princesses. +Their imperial majesties rise and go to meet her at the door of the +room, after which she is seated in an armed chair, next the empress, +and in the same manner at supper, and there the men had the permission +of paying their Court. The archduchesses sit on chairs with backs +without arms. The table is entirely served, and all the dishes set on +by the empress's maids of honour, which are twelve young ladies of the +first quality. They have no salary, but their chambers at court, where +they live in a sort of confinement, not being suffered to go to the +assemblies or public places in town, except in compliment to the +wedding of a sister maid, whom the empress always presents with her +picture set in diamonds. The three first of them are called _Ladies +of the Key_, and wear gold keys by their sides; but what I find most +pleasant, is the custom which obliges them, as long as they live, +after they have left the empress's service, to make her some present +every year on the day of her feast. Her majesty is served by no +married women but the _grande maîtresse_, who is generally a widow of +the first quality, always very old, and is at the same time groom of +the stole, and mother of the maids. The dresses are not at all in the +figure they pretend to in England, being looked upon no otherwise than +as downright chambermaids. + +I had audience next day of the empress mother, a princess of great +virtue and goodness, but who piques herself so much on a violent +devotion; she is perpetually performing extraordinary acts of penance, +without having ever done anything to deserve them. She has the same +number of maids of honour, whom she suffers to go in colours; but she +herself never quits her mourning; and sure nothing can be more dismal +than the mourning here, even for a brother. There is not the least bit +of linen to be seen; all black crape instead of it. The neck, ears, +and side of the face covered with a plaited piece of the same stuff, +and the face that peeps out in the midst of it, looks as if it were +pilloried. The widows wear, over and above, a crape forehead cloth; +and in this solemn weed go to all the public places of diversion +without scruple. The next day I was to wait on the empress Amelia, who +is now at her palace of retirement half a mile from the town. I had +there the pleasure of seeing a diversion wholly new to me, but which +is the common amusement of this court. The empress herself was seated +on a little throne at the end of a fine alley in the garden, and on +each side of her were ranged two parties of her ladies of honour with +other young ladies of quality, headed by the two young archduchesses, +all dressed in their hair full of jewels, with fine light guns in +their hands; and at proper distances were placed three oval pictures, +which were the marks to be shot at. The first was that of a CUPID, +filling a bumper of Burgundy, and this motto, '_Tis easy to be valiant +here_. The second a FORTUNE, holding a garland in her hand, the motto, +_For her whom Fortune favours_. The third was a SWORD, with a laurel +wreath on the point, the motto, _Here is no shame to the vanquished_. +Near the empress was a gilded trophy wreathed with flowers, and made +of little crooks, on which were hung rich Turkish handkerchiefs, +tippets, ribbons, laces, etc., for the small prizes. The empress gave +the first with her own hand, which was a fine ruby ring set round +with diamonds, in a gold snuff-box. There was for the second, a little +Cupid set with brilliants; and besides these, a set of fine china for +a tea-table enchased in gold, japan trunks, fans, and many gallantries +of the same nature. All the men of quality at Vienna were spectators; +but only the ladies had permission to shoot, and the Archduchess +Amelia carried off the first prize. I was very well pleased with +having seen this entertainment, and I do not know but it might make as +good a figure as the prize-shooting in the _Eneid_, if I could write +as well as Virgil. This is the favourite pleasure of the emperor, and +there is rarely a week without some feast of this kind, which makes +the young ladies skilful enough to defend a fort, and they laughed +very much to see me afraid to handle a gun. + +My dear sister, you will easily pardon an abrupt conclusion. I +believe, by this time, you are ready to fear I would never conclude at +all. + + + +To MRS. SARAH CHISWELL + +_Ingrafting for small-pox_ + + +Adrianople, 1 _April_, O.S. [1717]. + +In my opinion, dear S., I ought rather to quarrel with you for not +answering my Nimeguen letter of August till December, than to excuse +my not writing again till now. I am sure there is on my side a very +good excuse for silence, having gone such tiresome land-journeys, +though I don't find the conclusion of them so bad as you seem to +imagine. I am very easy here, and not in the solitude you fancy me. +The great number of Greek, French, English, and Italians, that are +under our protection, make their court to me from morning till night; +and, I'll assure you, are many of them very fine ladies; for there is +no possibility for a Christian to live easily under this government +but by the protection of an embassador--and the richer they are, the +greater their danger. + +Those dreadful stories you have heard of the plague have very little +foundation in truth. I own I have much ado to reconcile myself to the +sound of a word which has always given me such terrible ideas, though +I am convinced there is little more in it than a fever. As a proof we +passed through two or three towns most violently infected. In the +very next house where we lay (in one of them) two persons died of it. +Luckily for me, I knew nothing of the matter; and I was made believe, +that our second cook who fell ill here, had only a great cold. +However, we left our doctor to take care of him, and yesterday they +both arrived here in good health; and now I am let into the secret +that he has had the _plague_. There are many that escape it; neither +is the air ever infected. I am persuaded that it would be as easy to +root it out here as out of Italy and France; but it does so little +mischief, they are not very solicitous about it, and are content to +suffer this distemper instead of our variety, which they are utterly +unacquainted with. + +_A propos_ of distempers: I am going to tell you a thing that I am +sure will make you wish yourself here. The small-pox, so fatal and +so general among us, is here entirely harmless by the invention of +_ingrafting_, which is the term they give it. There is a set of +old women who make it their business to perform the operation every +autumn, in the month of September, when the great heat is abated. +People send to one another to know if any of their family has a mind +to have the small-pox: they make parties for this purpose, and when +they are met (commonly fifteen or sixteen together) the old woman +comes with a nut-shell full of the matter of the best sort of +small-pox, and asks what veins you please to have opened. She +immediately rips open that you offer to her with a large needle (which +gives you no more pain than a common scratch), and puts into the vein +as much venom as can lie upon the head of her needle, and after that +binds up the little wound with a hollow bit of shell; and in this +manner opens four or five veins. The Grecians have commonly the +superstition of opening one in the middle of the forehead, in each +arm, and on the breast, to mark the sign of the cross; but this has +a very ill effect, all these wounds leaving little scars, and is not +done by those that are not superstitious, who choose to have them in +the legs, or that part of the arm that is concealed. The children +or young patients play together all the rest of the day, and are in +perfect health to the eighth. Then the fever begins to seize them, +and they keep their beds two days, very seldom three. They have very +rarely above twenty or thirty in their faces, which never mark; and in +eight days' time they are as well as before their illness. Where they +are wounded, there remain running sores during the distemper, which I +don't doubt is a great relief to it. Every year thousands undergo this +operation; and the French embassador says pleasantly, that they take +the small-pox here by way of diversion, as they take the waters in +other countries. There is no example of any one that has died in it; +and you may believe I am very well satisfied of the safety of the +experiment, since I intend to try it on my dear little son. + +I am patriot enough to take pains to bring this useful invention into +fashion in England; and I should not fail to write to some of our +doctors very particularly about it, if I knew any one of them that +I thought had virtue enough to destroy such a considerable branch +of their revenue for the good of mankind. But that distemper is too +beneficial to them not to expose to all their resentment the hardy +wight that should undertake to put an end to it. Perhaps, if I live +to return, I may, however, have courage to war with them. Upon this +occasion admire the heroism in the heart of your friend. + + + + +TO THE COUNTESS OF BRISTOL + +_The Grand Signior a slave_ + + +Adrianople, 1 _April_, o.s. 1717. + +As I never can forget the smallest of your ladyship's commands, my +first business here has been to inquire after the stuffs you ordered +me to look for, without being able to find what you would like. The +difference of the dress here and at London is so great, the same sort +of things are not proper for _caftans_ and _manteaus_. However, I will +not give over my search, but renew it again at Constantinople, though +I have reason to believe there is nothing finer than what is to +be found here, being the present residence of the court. The Grand +Signior's eldest daughter was married some few days before I came; and +upon that occasion the Turkish ladies display all their magnificence. +The bride was conducted to her husband's house in very great +splendour. She is widow of the late Vizier, who was killed at +Peterwaradin, though that ought rather to be called a contract than a +marriage, not having ever lived with him: however, the greatest part +of his wealth is hers. He had the permission of visiting her in the +seraglio; and, being one of the handsomest men in the empire, had very +much engaged her affections.--When she saw this second husband, who is +at least fifty, she could not forbear bursting into tears. He is a man +of merit, and the declared favourite of the Sultan (which they call +_mosáyp_); but that is not enough to make him pleasing in the eyes of +a girl of thirteen. + +The government here is entirely in the hands of the army: and the +Grand Signior, with all his absolute power, as much a slave as any of +his subjects, and trembles at a janissary's frown. Here is, indeed, +a much greater appearance of subjection than among us: a minister of +state is not spoken to, but upon the knee; should a reflection on his +conduct be dropped in a coffee-house (for they have spies everywhere), +the house would be razed to the ground, and perhaps the whole company +put to the torture. No huzzaing mobs, senseless pamphlets, and tavern +disputes about politics: + + A consequential ill that freedom draws; + A bad effect,--but from a noble cause. + +None of our harmless calling names! but when a minister here +displeases the people, in three hours' time he is dragged even from +his master's arms. They cut off his hands, head, and feet, and throw +them before the palace gate, with all the respect in the world; while +that Sultan (to whom they all profess an unlimited adoration) sits +trembling in his apartment, and dare neither defend nor revenge his +favourite. This is the blessed condition of the most absolute monarch +upon earth, who owns no _law_ but his _will_. I cannot help wishing, +in the loyalty of my heart, that the parliament would send hither a +ship-load of your passive-obedient men, that they might see arbitrary +government in its clearest strongest light, where it is hard to judge +whether the prince, people, or ministers, are most miserable. I could +make many reflections on this subject; but I know, madam, your own +good sense has already furnished you with better than I am capable of. + +I went yesterday with the French embassadors to see the Grand Signior +in his passage to the mosque. He was preceded by a numerous guard of +janissaries, with vast white feathers on their heads, _spahis_ +and _bostangees_ (these are foot and horse guards), and the royal +gardeners, which are a very considerable body of men, dressed in +different habits of fine lively colours, that, at a distance, +they appeared like a parterre of tulips. After them the aga of the +janissaries, in a robe of purple velvet, lined with silver tissue, +his horse led by two slaves richly dressed. Next him the _Kyzlár-aga_ +(your ladyship knows this is the chief guardian of the seraglio +ladies) in a deep yellow cloth (which suited very well to his black +face) lined with sables, and last his Sublimity himself, in green +lined with the fur of a black Muscovite fox, which is supposed worth +a thousand pounds sterling, mounted on a fine horse, with furniture +embroidered with jewels. Six more horses richly furnished were led +after him; and two of his principal courtiers bore, one his gold, and +the other his silver coffee-pot, on a staff; another carried a silver +stool on his head for him to sit on. + +It would be too tedious to tell your ladyship the various dresses +and turbans by which their rank is distinguished; but they were +all extremely rich and gay, to the number of some thousands; that, +perhaps, there cannot be seen a more beautiful procession. The Sultan +appeared to us a handsome man of about forty, with a very graceful +air, but something severe in his countenance, his eyes very full and +black. He happened to stop under the window where we stood, and (I +suppose being told who we were) looked upon us very attentively, +that we had full leisure to consider him, and the French embassadress +agreed with me as to his good mien: I see that lady very often; she is +young, and her conversation would be a great relief to me, if I could +persuade her to live without those forms and ceremonies that make +life formal and tiresome. But she is so delighted with her guards, her +four-and-twenty footmen, gentlemen ushers, etc., that she would rather +die than make me a visit without them: not to reckon a coachful of +attending damsels yclep'd maids of honour. What vexes me is, that as +long as she will visit with a troublesome equipage, I am obliged to do +the same: however, our mutual interest makes us much together. + +I went with her the other day all round the town, in an open gilt +chariot, with our joint train of attendants, preceded by our guards, +who might have summoned the people to see what they had never seen, +nor ever would see again--two young Christian embassadresses never yet +having been in this country at the same time, nor I believe ever will +again. Your ladyship may easily imagine that we drew a vast crowd +of spectators, but all silent as death. If any of them had taken the +liberties of our mob upon any strange sight, our janissaries had made +no scruple of falling on them with their scimitars, without danger for +so doing, being above law. + +Yet these people have some good qualities; they are very zealous and +faithful where they serve, and look upon it as their business to fight +for you upon all occasions. Of this I had a very pleasant instance in +a village on this side Philipopolis, where we were met by our domestic +guard. I happened to bespeak pigeons for my supper, upon which one of +my janissaries went immediately to the Cadi (the chief civil officer +of the town), and ordered him to send in some dozens. The poor man +answered that he had already sent about, but could get none. My +janissary, in the height of his zeal for my service, immediately +locked him up prisoner in his room, telling him he deserved death for +his impudence, in offering to excuse his not obeying my command; but, +out of respect to me, he would not punish him but by my order, and +accordingly, came very gravely to me, to ask what should be done to +him; adding, by way of compliment, that if I pleased he would bring me +his head. This may give you some idea of the unlimited power of these +fellows, who are all sworn brothers, and bound to revenge the injuries +done to one another, whether at Cairo, Aleppo, or any part of the +world; and this inviolable league makes them so powerful, that the +greatest man at court never speaks to them but in a flattering +tone; and in Asia, any man that is rich is forced to enrol himself a +janissary, to secure his estate. + +But I have already said enough; and I dare swear, dear madam, that, by +this time, 'tis a very comfortable reflection to you that there is no +possibility of your receiving such a tedious letter but once in +six months; 'tis that consideration has given me the assurance to +entertain you so long, and will, I hope, plead the excuse of, dear +madam, &c. + + + +To THE COUNTESS OF MAR + +_The Grand Vizier's lady_ + + +Adrianople, 18 _April_, O.S. [1717]. + +I wrote to you, dear sister, and to all my other English +correspondents, by the last ship, and only Heaven can tell when I +shall have another opportunity of sending to you; but I cannot forbear +writing, though perhaps my letter may lie upon my hands this two +months. To confess the truth, my head is so full of my entertainment +yesterday, that 'tis absolutely necessary for my own repose to give it +some vent. Without farther preface, I will then begin my story. I was +invited to dine with the Grand Vizier's lady, and it was with a great +deal of pleasure I prepared myself for an entertainment which was +never given before to any Christian. I thought I should very little +satisfy her curiosity (which I did not doubt was a considerable +motive to the invitation) by going in a dress she was used to see, and +therefore dressed myself in the court habit of Vienna, which is much +more magnificent than ours. However, I chose to go _incognita_, to +avoid any disputes about ceremony, and went in a Turkish coach, only +attended by my woman that held up my train, and the Greek lady who was +my interpretress. I was met at the court door by her black eunuch, +who helped me out of the coach with great respect, and conducted me +through several rooms, where her she-slaves, finely dressed, were +ranged on each side. In the innermost I found the lady sitting on her +sofa, in a sable vest. She advanced to meet me, and presented me half +a dozen of her friends with great civility. She seemed a very good +woman, near fifty years old. I was surprised to observe so little +magnificence in her house, the furniture being all very moderate; and +except the habits and number of her slaves, nothing about her that +appeared expensive. She guessed at my thoughts, and told me that +she was no longer of an age to spend either her time or money in +superfluities; that her whole expense was in charity, and her whole +employment praying to God. There was no affectation in this speech; +both she and her husband are entirely given up to devotion. He never +looks upon any other woman; and, what is much more extraordinary, +touches no bribes, notwithstanding the example of all his +predecessors. He is so scrupulous on this point, he would not accept +Mr. Wortley's present, till he had been assured over and over that +it was a settled perquisite of his place at the entrance of every +ambassador. + +She entertained me with all kind of civility till dinner came in, +which was served, one dish at a time, to a vast number, all finely +dressed after their manner, which I do not think so bad as you have +perhaps heard it represented. I am a very good judge of their eating, +having lived three weeks in the house of an _effendi_ at Belgrade, who +gave us very magnificent dinners, dressed by his own cooks, which the +first week pleased me extremely; but I own I then began to grow weary +of it, and desired our own cook might add a dish or two after our +manner. But I attribute this to custom. I am very much inclined to +believe an Indian, that had never tasted of either, would prefer their +cookery to ours. Their sauces are very high, all the roast very much +done. They use a great deal of rich spice. The soup is served for the +last dish; and they have at least as great variety of ragouts as we +have. I was very sorry I could not eat of as many as the good lady +would have had me, who was very earnest in serving me of everything. +The treat concluded with coffee and perfumes, which is a high mark +of respect; two slaves kneeling censed my hair, clothes, and +handkerchief. After this ceremony, she commanded her slaves to play +and dance, which they did with their guitars in their hands; and +she excused to me their want of skill, saying she took no care to +accomplish them in that art. + +I returned her thanks, and soon after took my leave. I was conducted +back in the same manner I entered; and would have gone straight to my +own house; but the Greek lady with me earnestly solicited me to visit +the _Kiyà ya's_ lady, saying, he was the second officer in the empire, +and ought indeed to be looked upon as the first, the Grand Vizier +having only the name, while he exercised the authority. I had found so +little diversion in this harem, that I had no mind to go into another. +But her importunity prevailed with me, and I am extreme glad that I +was so complaisant. + +All things here were with quite another air than at the Grand +Vizier's; and the very house confessed the difference between an old +devotee and a young beauty. It was nicely clean and magnificent. I +was met at the door by two black eunuchs, who led me through a long +gallery between two ranks of beautiful young girls, with their hair +finely plaited, almost hanging to their feet, all dressed in fine +light damasks, brocaded with silver. I was sorry that decency did not +permit me to stop to consider them nearer. But that thought was lost +upon my entrance into a large room, or rather pavilion, built round +with gilded sashes, which were most of them thrown up, and the trees +planted near them gave an agreeable shade, which hindered the sun from +being troublesome. The jessamines and honeysuckles that twisted round +their trunks, shedding a soft perfume, increased by a white marble +fountain playing sweet water in the lower part of the room, which fell +into three or four basins with a pleasing sound. The roof was painted +with all sort of flowers, falling out of gilded baskets, that seemed +tumbling down. On a sofa, raised three steps, and covered with fine +Persian carpets, sat the _Kiyà ya's_ lady, leaning on cushions of white +satin, embroidered; and at her feet sat two young girls, the eldest +about twelve years old, lovely as angels, dressed perfectly rich, and +almost covered with jewels. But they were hardly seen near the fair +Fatima (for that is her name), so much her beauty effaced every thing +I have seen, all that has been called lovely either in England +or Germany, and must own that I never saw any thing so gloriously +beautiful, nor can I recollect a face that would have been taken +notice of near hers. She stood up to receive me, saluting me after +their fashion, putting her hand upon her heart with a sweetness +full of majesty, that no court breeding could ever give. She ordered +cushions to be given to me, and took care to place me in the corner, +which is the place of honour. I confess, though the Greek lady had +before given me a great opinion of her beauty, I was so struck with +admiration, that I could not for some time speak to her, being wholly +taken up in gazing. That surprising harmony of features! that charming +result of the whole! that exact proportion of body! that lovely bloom +of complexion unsullied by art! the unutterable enchantment of her +smile!--But her eyes!--large and black, with all the soft languishment +of the blue! every turn of her face discovering some new charm. + +After my first surprise was over, I endeavoured, by nicely examining +her face, to find out some imperfection, without any fruit of my +search, but being clearly convinced of the error of that vulgar +notion, that a face perfectly regular would not be agreeable: nature +having done for her with more success, what Apelles is said to have +essayed, by a collection of the most exact features, to form a perfect +face, and to that, a behaviour, so full of grace and sweetness, such +easy motions, with an air so majestic, yet free from stiffness or +affectation, that I am persuaded, could she be suddenly transported +upon the most polite throne of Europe, nobody would think her other +than born and bred to be a queen, though educated in a country we call +barbarous. To say all in a word, our most celebrated English beauties +would vanish near her. + +She was dressed in a _caftán_ of gold brocade, flowered with silver, +very well fitted to her shape, and shewing to advantage the beauty +of her bosom, only shaded by the thin guaze of her shift. Her +drawers were pale pink, green and silver, her slippers white, finely +embroidered; her lovely arms adorned with bracelets of diamonds, and +her broad girdle set round with diamonds; upon her head a rich Turkish +handkerchief of pink and silver, her own fine black hair hanging a +great length in various tresses, and on one side of her head some +bodkins of jewels. I am afraid you will accuse me of extravagance +in this description. I think I have read somewhere that women always +speak in rapture when they speak of beauty, but I cannot imagine why +they should not be allowed to do so. I rather think it virtue to be +able to admire without any mixture of desire or envy. The gravest +writers have spoken with great warmth of some celebrated pictures +and statues. The workmanship of Heaven certainly excels all our weak +imitations, and, I think, has a much better claim to our praise. For +me, I am not ashamed to own I took more pleasure in looking on the +beauteous Fatima, than the finest piece of sculpture could have given +me. + +She told me the two girls at her feet were her daughters, though she +appeared too young to be their mother. Her fair maids were ranged +below the sofa, to the number of twenty, and put me in mind of the +pictures of the ancient nymphs. I did not think all nature could have +furnished such a scene of beauty. She made them a sign to play and +dance. Four of them immediately began to play some soft airs on +instruments between a lute and a guitar, which they accompanied +with their voices, while the others danced by turns. This dance +was very different from what I had seen before. Nothing could +be more artful.... The tunes so soft!--the motions so +languishing!--accompanied with pauses and dying eyes! half-falling +back, and then recovering themselves in so artful a manner.... I +suppose you may have read that the Turks have no music but what is +shocking to the ears; but this account is from those who never heard +any, but what is played in the streets, and is just as reasonable as +if a foreigner should take his ideas of the English music from the +bladder and string, and marrowbone and cleavers. I can assure you that +the music is extremely pathetic; 'tis true I am inclined to prefer the +Italian, but perhaps I am partial. I am acquainted with a Greek lady +who sings better than Mrs. Robinson, and is very well skilled in both, +who gives the preference to the Turkish. 'Tis certain they have very +fine natural voices; these were very agreeable. When the dance was +over, four fair slaves came into the room with silver censers in their +hands, and perfumed the room with amber, aloes-wood, and other scents. +After this they served me coffee upon their knees in the finest japan +china, with _soucoupes_ of silver, gilt. The lovely Fatima entertained +me all this while in the most polite agreeable manner, calling me +often _Guzél sultanum_, or the beautiful sultana, and desiring my +friendship with the best grace in the world, lamenting that she could +not entertain me in my own language. + +When I took my leave, two maids brought in a fine silver basket of +embroidered handkerchiefs; she begged I would wear the richest for her +sake, and gave the others to my woman and interpretress. I returned +through the same ceremonies as before, and could not help fancying I +had been some time in Mahomet's paradise, so much I was charmed with +what I had seen. I know not how the relation of it appears to you. +I wish it may give you part of my pleasure; for I would have my dear +sister share in all the diversions of, &c. + + + +To THE COUNTESS OF BUTE + +_Her grand-daughter's education_ + + +28 _Jan_. N.S. [1753]. + +Dear child, + +You have given me a great deal of satisfaction by your account of +your eldest daughter. I am particularly pleased to hear she is a good +arithmetician; it is the best proof of understanding: the knowledge of +numbers is one of the chief distinctions between us and the brutes. +If there is anything in blood, you may reasonably expect your children +should be endowed with an uncommon share of good sense. Mr. Wortley's +family and mine have both produced some of the greatest men that have +been born in England: I mean Admiral Sandwich, and my grandfather, +who was distinguished by the name of Wise William. I have heard Lord +Bute's father mentioned as an extraordinary genius, though he had not +many opportunities of showing it; and his uncle, the present Duke of +Argyll, has one of the best heads I ever knew. I will therefore +speak to you as supposing Lady Mary not only capable, but desirous +of learning: in that case by all means let her be indulged in it. You +will tell me I did not make it a part of your education: your prospect +was very different from hers. As you had no defect either in mind +or person to hinder, and much in your circumstances to attract the +highest offers, it seemed your business to learn how to live in the +world, as it is hers to know how to be easy out of it. It is the +common error of builders and parents to follow some plan they think +beautiful (and perhaps is so), without considering that nothing is +beautiful that is displaced. Hence we see so many edifices raised that +the raisers can never inhabit, being too large for their fortunes. +Vistas are laid open over barren heaths, and apartments contrived +for a coolness very agreeable in Italy, but killing in the north of +Britain: thus every woman endeavours to breed her daughter a fine +lady, qualifying her for a station in which she will never appear, and +at the same time incapacitating her for that retirement to which she +is destined. Learning, if she has a real taste for it, will not only +make her contented, but happy in it. No entertainment is so cheap as +reading, nor any pleasure so lasting. She will not want new fashions, +nor regret the loss of expensive diversions, or variety of company, +if she can be amused with an author in her closet. To render this +amusement extensive, she should be permitted to learn the languages. +I have heard it lamented that boys lose so many years in mere learning +of words: this is no objection to a girl, whose time is not so +precious: she cannot advance herself in any profession, and has +therefore more hours to spare; and as you say her memory is good, she +will be very agreeably employed this way. There are two cautions to +be given on this subject: first, not to think herself learned when +she can read Latin, or even Greek. Languages are more properly to be +called vehicles of learning than learning itself, as may be observed +in many schoolmasters, who, though perhaps critics in grammar, are the +most ignorant fellows upon earth. True knowledge consists in knowing +things, not words. I would wish her no further a linguist than to +enable her to read books in their originals, that are often corrupted, +and always injured, by translations. Two hours' application every +morning will bring this about much sooner than you can imagine, and +she will have leisure enough besides to run over the English poetry, +which is a more important part of a woman's education than it is +generally supposed. Many a young damsel has been ruined by a fine copy +of verses, which she would have laughed at if she had known it had +been stolen from Mr. Waller. I remember, when I was a girl, I saved +one of my companions from destruction, who communicated to me an +epistle she was quite charmed with. As she had a natural good taste, +she observed the lines were not so smooth as Prior's or Pope's, but +had more thought and spirit than any of theirs. She was wonderfully +delighted with such a demonstration of her lover's sense and passion, +and not a little pleased with her own charms, that had force enough +to inspire such elegancies. In the midst of this triumph I showed +her that they were taken from Randolph's poems, and the unfortunate +transcriber was dismissed with the scorn he deserved. To say truth, +the poor plagiary was very unlucky to fall into my hands; that +author being no longer in fashion, would have escaped any one of less +universal reading than myself. You should encourage your daughter to +talk over with you what she reads; and, as you are very capable of +distinguishing, take care she does not mistake pert folly for wit +and humour, or rhyme for poetry, which are the common errors of young +people, and have a train of ill consequences. The second caution to +be given her (and which is most absolutely necessary) is to conceal +whatever learning she attains, with as much solicitude as she would +hide crookedness or lameness; the parade of it can only serve to draw +on her the envy, and consequently the most inveterate hatred, of all +he and she fools, which will certainly be at least three parts in four +of all her acquaintance. The use of knowledge in our sex, besides the +amusement of solitude, is to moderate the passions, and learn to be +contented with a small expense, which are the certain effects of a +studious life; and it may be preferable even to that fame which men +have engrossed to themselves, and will not suffer us to share. +You will tell me I have not observed this rule myself; but you +are mistaken: it is only inevitable accident that has given me any +reputation that way. I have always carefully avoided it, and ever +thought it a misfortune. The explanation of this paragraph would +occasion a long digression, which I will not trouble you with, it +being my present design only to say what I think useful for the +instruction of my granddaughter, which I have much at heart. If she +has the same inclination (I should say passion) for learning that I +was born with, history, geography, and philosophy will furnish her +with materials to pass away cheerfully a longer life than is allotted +to mortals. I believe there are few heads capable of making Sir I. +Newton's calculations, but the result of them is not difficult to be +understood by a moderate capacity. Do not fear this should make her +affect the character of Lady----, or Lady----, or Mrs.----: those +women are ridiculous, not because they have learning, but because they +have it not. One thinks herself a complete historian, after reading +Echard's Roman History; another a profound philosopher, having got +by heart some of Pope's unintelligible essays; and a third an able +divine, on the strength of Whitefield's sermons: thus you hear them +screaming politics and controversy. + +It is a saying of Thucydides, ignorance is bold, and knowledge +reserved. Indeed, it is impossible to be far advanced in it without +being more humbled by a conviction of human ignorance than elated by +learning. At the same time I recommend books, I neither exclude work +nor drawing. I think it as scandalous for a woman not to know how to +use a needle, as for a man not to know how to use a sword. I was once +extremely fond of my pencil, and it was a great mortification to +me when my father turned off my master, having made a considerable +progress for a short time I learnt. My over-eagerness in the pursuit +of it had brought a weakness on my eyes, that made it necessary to +leave it off; and all the advantage I got was the improvement of my +hand. I see, by hers, that practice will make her a ready writer: +she may attain it by serving you for a secretary, when your health or +affairs make it troublesome to you to write yourself; and custom will +make it an agreeable amusement to her. She cannot have too many for +that station of life which will probably be her fate. The ultimate end +of your education was to make you a good wife (and I have the comfort +to hear that you are one): hers ought to be, to make her happy in +a virgin state. I will not say it is happier; but it is undoubtedly +safer than any marriage. In a lottery, where there are (at the lowest +computation) ten thousand blanks to a prize, it is the most prudent +choice not to venture. I have always been so thoroughly persuaded of +this truth, that, notwithstanding the flattering views I had for you +(as I never intended you a sacrifice to my vanity), I thought I owed +you the justice to lay before you all the hazards attending matrimony: +you may recollect I did so in the strongest manner. Perhaps you may +have more success in the instructing your daughter: she has so much +company at home, she will not need seeking it abroad, and will more +readily take the notions you think fit to give her. As you were alone +in my family, it would have been thought a great cruelty to suffer +you no companions of your own age, especially having so many near +relations, and I do not wonder their opinions influenced yours. I was +not sorry to see you not determined on a single life, knowing it was +not your father's intention, and contented myself with endeavouring to +make your home so easy that you might not be in haste to leave it. + +I am afraid you will think this a very long and insignificant letter. +I hope the kindness of the design will excuse it, being willing to +give you every proof in my power that I am, + +Your most affectionate mother. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Fielding and other authors_ + + +Lovere, 22 _Sept_. [1755]. + +MY DEAR CHILD, + +I received, two days ago, the box of books you were so kind to +send; but I can scarce say whether my pleasure or disappointment was +greatest. I was much pleased to see before me a fund of amusement, but +heartily vexed to find your letter consisting only of three lines +and a half. Why will you not employ Lady Mary as secretary, if it is +troublesome to you to write? I have told you over and over, you may at +the same time oblige your mother and improve your daughter, both +which I should think very agreeable to yourself. You can never want +something to say. The history of your nursery, if you had no other +subject to write on, would be very acceptable to me. I am such a +stranger to everything in England, I should be glad to hear more +particulars relating to the families I am acquainted with: if +Miss Liddel marries the Lord Euston I knew, or his nephew, who has +succeeded him; if Lord Berkeley has left children; and several trifles +of that sort, that would be a satisfaction to my curiosity. I am +sorry for H. Fielding's death, not only as I shall read no more of his +writings, but I believe he lost more than others, as no man enjoyed +life more than he did, though few had less reason to do so, the +highest of his preferment being raking in the lowest sinks of vice and +misery. I should think it a nobler and less nauseous employment to +be one of the staff officers that conduct the nocturnal weddings. +His happy constitution (even when he had, with great pains, half +demolished it) made him forget everything when he was before a venison +pasty, or over a flask of champagne; and I am persuaded he has known +more happy moments than any prince upon earth. His natural spirits +gave him rapture with his cook-maid, and cheerfulness when he was +starving in a garret. There was a great similitude between his +character and that of Sir Richard Steele. He had the advantage both +in learning, and, in my opinion, genius: they both agreed in wanting +money in spite of all their friends, and would have wanted it, if +their hereditary lands had been as extensive as their imagination; +yet each one of them so formed for happiness, it is a pity he was not +immortal.... This Richardson is a strange fellow. I heartily +despise him, and eagerly read him, nay, sob over his works in a most +scandalous manner. The first two tomes of _Clarissa_ touched me, as +being very resembling to my maiden days; and I find in the pictures of +Sir Thomas Grandison and his lady, what I have heard of my mother, and +seen of my father.... + + + + +PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE, EARL + OF CHESTERFIELD + +1694-1773 + + + +TO HIS SON + +_Dancing_ + + +Dublin Castle, 29 _Nov_. 1745. + +DEAR BOY, + +I have received your last Saturday's performance, with which I am very +well satisfied. I know or have heard of no Mr. St. Maurice here; and +young Pain, whom I have made an ensign, was here upon the spot, as +were every one of those I have named in these new levies. + +Now that the Christmas breaking-up draws near, I have ordered Mr. +Desnoyers to go to you, during that time, to teach you to dance. I +desire that you will particularly attend to the graceful motion of +your arms; which with the manner of putting on your hat, and giving +your hand, is all that a gentleman need attend to. Dancing is +in itself a very trifling, silly thing; but it is one of those +established follies to which people of sense are sometimes obliged +to conform; and then they should be able to do it well. And though I +would not have you a dancer, yet when you do dance, I would have you +dance well; as I would have you do everything you do, well. There is +no one thing so trifling, but which (if it is to be done at all) ought +to be done well; and I have often told you that I wish you even +played at pitch, and cricket, better than any boy at Westminster. For +instance, dress is a very foolish thing; and yet it is a very foolish +thing for a man not to be well dressed, according to his rank and +way of life; and it is so far from being a disparagement to any man's +understanding, that it is rather a proof of it, to be as well dressed +as those whom he lives with: the difference in this case between a man +of sense and a fop is, that the fop values himself upon his dress; and +the man of sense laughs at it, at the same time that he knows he must +not neglect it. There are a thousand foolish customs of this kind, +which not being criminal, must be complied with, and even cheerfully, +by men of sense. Diogenes the cynic was a wise man for despising them; +but a fool for showing it. Be wiser than other people if you can; but +do not tell them so. + +It is a very fortunate thing for Sir Charles Hotham, to have fallen +into the hands of one of your age, experience, and knowledge of the +world: I am persuaded you will take infinite care of him. Goodnight. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A good enunciation_ + + +London, 21 _June_, O.S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY, + +Your very bad enunciation runs so much in my head, and gives me such +real concern, that it will be the object of this, and I believe of +many more letters. I congratulate both you and myself that I was +informed of it (as I hope) in time to prevent it; and shall ever think +myself, as hereafter you will, I am sure, think yourself, infinitely +obliged to Sir Charles Williams, for informing me of it. Good God! +if this ungraceful and disagreeable manner of speaking had, either +by your negligence or mine, become habitual to you, as in a couple of +years more it would have been, what a figure would you have made in +company, or in a public assembly! Who would have liked you in the one, +or have attended to you in the other? Read what Cicero and Quintilian +say of enunciation, and see what a stress they lay on the gracefulness +of it; nay, Cicero goes farther, and even maintains that a good figure +is necessary for an orator, and particularly that he must not be +_vastus_; that is, overgrown and clumsy. He shows by it that he +knew mankind well, and knew the powers of an agreeable figure and a +graceful manner. Men, as well as women, are much oftener led by their +hearts, than by their understandings. The way to the heart is through +the senses; please their eyes and their ears, and the work is half +done. I have frequently known a man's fortune decided for ever by his +first address. If it is pleasing, people are hurried involuntarily +into persuasion that he has a merit, which possibly he has not; as, on +the other hand, if it is ungraceful, they are immediately prejudiced +against him, and unwilling to allow him the merit which it may be +he has. Nor is this sentiment so unjust and unreasonable as at first +sight it may seem; for if a man has parts, he must know of what +infinite consequence it is to him to have a graceful manner of +speaking, and a genteel and pleasing address: he will cultivate and +improve them to the utmost. Your figure is a good one; you have no +natural defects in the organs of speech; your address may be engaging, +and your manner of speaking graceful, if you will; so that, if they +are not so, neither I nor the world can ascribe it to anything but +your want of parts. What is the constant and just observation as to +all the actors upon the stage? Is it not, that those who have the best +sense always speak the best, though they may not happen to have the +best voices? They will speak plainly, distinctly, and with the proper +emphasis, be their voices ever so bad. Had Roscius spoken quick, +thick, and ungracefully, I will answer for it, that Cicero would not +have thought him worth the oration which he made in his favour. Words +were given us to communicate our ideas by, and there must be something +inconceivably absurd in uttering them in such a manner, as that either +people cannot understand them, or will not desire to understand them. +I tell you truly and sincerely, that I shall judge of your parts by +your speaking gracefully or ungracefully. If you have parts, you will +never be at rest till you have brought yourself to a habit of speaking +most gracefully: for I aver, that it is in your power. You will desire +Mr. Harte, that you may read aloud to him every day, and that he will +interrupt and correct you every time that you read too fast, do not +observe the proper stops, or lay a wrong emphasis. You will take care +to open your teeth when you speak; to articulate very distinctly; and +to beg of Mr. Harte, Mr. Eliot, or whomever you speak to, to remind +and stop you, if ever you fall into the rapid and unintelligible +mutter. You will even read aloud to yourself, and tune your utterance +to your own ear, and read at first much slower than you need to do, +in order to correct yourself of that shameful trick of speaking faster +than you ought. In short, if you think right, you will make it your +business, your study, and your pleasure to speak well. Therefore, what +I have said in this and in my last, is more than sufficient, if you +have sense; and ten times more would not be sufficient if you have +not: so here I rest it. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Keeping accounts_ + + +London, 10 _Jan._ O.S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY, + +I have received your letter of the 31st December, N.S. Your thanks for +my present, as you call it, exceed the value of the present; but the +use which you assure me that you will make of it, is the thanks which +I desire to receive. Due attention to the inside of books, and due +contempt for the outside, is the proper relation between a man of +sense and his books. + +Now that you are going a little more into the world, I will take this +occasion to explain my intentions as to your future expenses, that +you may know what you have to expect from me, and make your plan +accordingly. I shall neither deny nor grudge you any money that may +be necessary for either your improvement or pleasures; I mean the +pleasures of a rational being. Under the head of improvement I mean +the best books, and the best masters, cost what they will; I also +mean all the expense of lodgings, coach, dress, servants, &c., +which, according to the several places where you may be, shall be +respectively necessary to enable you to keep the best company. Under +the head of rational pleasures I comprehend, first, proper charities +to real and compassionate objects of it; secondly, proper presents to +those to whom you are obliged, or whom you desire to oblige; thirdly, +a conformity of expense to that of the company which you keep; as in +public spectacles, your share of little entertainments, a few pistoles +at games of mere commerce, and other incidental calls of good company. +The only two articles which I will never supply are, the profusion of +low riot, and the idle lavishness of negligence and laziness. A fool +squanders away, without credit or advantage to himself, more than a +man of sense spends with both. The latter employs his money as he does +his time, and never spends a shilling of the one, nor a minute of the +other, but in something that is either useful or rationally pleasing +to himself or others. The former buys whatever he does not want, and +does not pay for what he does want. He cannot withstand the charms +of a toy-shop; snuff-boxes, watches, heads of canes, etc., are +his destruction. His servants and tradesmen conspire with his own +indolence to cheat him, and in a very little time he is astonished, in +the midst of all the ridiculous superfluities, to find himself in want +of all the real comforts and necessaries of life. Without care and +method the largest fortune will not, and with them almost the smallest +will, supply all necessary expenses. As far as you can possibly, pay +ready money for everything you buy, and avoid bills. Pay that money +too yourself, and not through the hands of any servant, who always +either stipulates poundage, or requires a present for his good word, +as they call it. Where you must have bills, (as for meat and drink, +clothes, etc.) pay them regularly every month, and with your own hand. +Never, from a mistaken economy, buy a thing you do not want, because +it is cheap; or from a silly pride, because it is dear. Keep an +account in a book, of all that you receive, and of all that you pay; +for no man, who knows what he receives and what he pays, ever runs +out. I do not mean that you should keep an account of the shillings +and half-crowns which you may spend in chair-hire, operas, etc. They +are unworthy of the time, and of the ink that they would consume; +leave such _minutiae_ to dull, penny-wise fellows; but remember in +economy, as well as in every other part of life, to have the proper +attention to proper objects, and the proper contempt for little ones. +A strong mind sees things in their true proportion; a weak one views +them through a magnifying medium, which, like the microscope, makes an +elephant of a flea; magnifies all little objects, but cannot receive +great ones. I have known many a man pass for a miser, by saving a +penny, and wrangling for two-pence, who was undoing himself at the +same time, by living above his income, and not attending to essential +articles, which were above his _portée_. The sure characteristic of a +sound and strong mind is, to find in everything those certain bounds, +_quos ultra citrave nequit consistere rectum_. These boundaries are +marked out by a very fine line, which only good sense and attention +can discover; it is much too fine for vulgar eyes. In manners, this +line is good-breeding; beyond it, is troublesome ceremony; short of +it, is unbecoming negligence and inattention. In morals, it divides +ostentatious puritanism from criminal relaxation; in religion, +superstition from impiety; and, in short, every virtue from its +kindred vice or weakness. I think you have sense enough to discover +the line; keep it always in your eye, and learn to walk upon it; rest +upon Mr. Harte, and he will poise you, till you are able to go alone. +By the way, there are fewer people who walk well upon that line, than +upon the slack-rope; and, therefore, a good performer shines so much +the more.... + +Remember to take the best dancing-master at Berlin, more to teach you +to sit, stand, and walk gracefully, than to dance finely. The graces, +the graces; remember the graces! Adieu. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A father's example_ + + +London, 7 _Feb_. o.s. 1749. + +DEAR BOY, + +You are now come to an age capable of reflection; and I hope you will +do, what however few people at your age do, exert it, for your own +sake, in the search of truth and sound knowledge. I will confess (for +I am not unwilling to discover my secrets to you) that it is not many +years since I have presumed to reflect for myself. Till sixteen or +seventeen I had no reflection, and for many years after that I made no +use of what I had. I adopted the notions of the books I read, or the +company I kept, without examining whether they were just or not; and I +rather chose to run the risk of easy error, than to take the time and +trouble of investigating truth. Thus, partly from laziness, partly +from dissipation, and partly from the _mauvaise honte_ of rejecting +fashionable notions, I was (as I since found) hurried away by +prejudices, instead of being guided by reason; and quietly cherished +error, instead of seeking for truth. But since I have taken the +trouble of reasoning for myself, and have had the courage to own that +I do so, you cannot imagine how much my notions of things are altered, +and in how different a light I now see them, from that in which I +formerly viewed them through the deceitful medium of prejudice or +authority. Nay, I may possibly still retain many errors, which, from +long habit, have perhaps grown into real opinions; for it is very +difficult to distinguish habits, early acquired and long entertained, +from the result of our reason and reflection. + +My first prejudice (for I do not mention the prejudices of boys and +women, such as hobgoblins, ghosts, dreams, spilling salt, &c.) was my +classical enthusiasm, which I received from the books I read, and the +masters who explained them to me. I was convinced there had been no +common sense nor common honesty in the world for these last fifteen +hundred years; but that they were totally extinguished with the +ancient Greek and Roman governments. Homer and Virgil could have no +faults, because they were ancient; Milton and Tasso could have no +merit, because they were modern. And I could almost have said, with +regard to the ancients, what Cicero, very absurdly and unbecomingly +for a philosopher, says with regard to Plato, _Cum quo errare malim +quam cum aliis recte sentire_. Whereas now, without any extraordinary +effort of genius, I have discovered that nature was the same three +thousand years ago as it is at present; that men were but men then as +well as now; that modes and customs vary often, but that human nature +is always the same. And I can no more suppose, that men were better, +braver, or wiser, fifteen hundred or three thousand years ago, than I +can suppose that the animals or vegetables were better then than +they are now. I dare assert too, in defiance of the favourers of the +ancients, that Homer's hero Achilles was both a brute and a scoundrel, +and consequently an improper character for the hero of an epic poem; +he had so little regard for his country, that he would not act in +defence of it, because he had quarrelled with Agamemnon about a--; and +then afterwards, animated by private resentment only, he went about +killing people basely, I will call it, because he knew himself +invulnerable; and yet, invulnerable as he was, he wore the strongest +armour in the world; which I humbly apprehend to be a blunder; for a +horseshoe clapped to his vulnerable heel would have been sufficient. +On the other hand, with submission to the favourers of the moderns, +I assert with Mr. Dryden, that the Devil is in truth the hero of +Milton's poem: his plan, which he lays, pursues, and at last executes, +being the subject of the poem. From all which considerations I +impartially conclude that the ancients had their excellencies and +their defects, their virtues and their vices, just like the moderns: +pedantry and affectation of learning clearly decide in favour of +the former; vanity and ignorance, as peremptorily, in favour of the +latter. Religious prejudices kept pace with my classical ones; and +there was a time when I thought it impossible for the honestest man in +the world to be saved, out of the pale of the Church of England: not +considering that matters of opinion do not depend upon the will; +and that it is as natural, and as allowable, that another man should +differ in opinion from me, as that I should differ from him; and that, +if we are both sincere, we are both blameless, and should consequently +have mutual indulgences for each other. + +The next prejudices I adopted were those of the _beau monde_, in +which, as I was determined to shine, I took what are commonly called +the genteel vices to be necessary. I had heard them reckoned so, and +without further inquiry, I believed it; or at least should have been +ashamed to have denied it, for fear of exposing myself to the ridicule +of those whom I considered as the models of fine gentlemen. But now I +am neither ashamed nor afraid to assert, that those genteel vices, as +they are falsely called, are only so many blemishes in the character +of even a man of the world, and what is called a fine gentleman, and +degrade him in the opinion of those very people, to whom he hopes to +recommend himself by them. Nay, this prejudice often extends so far, +that I have known people pretend to vices they had not, instead of +carefully concealing those they had. + +Use and assert your own reason; reflect, examine, and analyze +everything, in order to form a sound and mature judgement; let no +[Greek: outos epha] impose upon your understanding, mislead your +actions, or dictate your conversation. Be early what, if you are not, +you will when too late wish you had been. Consult your reason betimes: +I do not say, that it will always prove an unerring guide; for human +reason is not infallible; but it will prove the least erring guide +that you can follow. Books and conversation may assist it; but adopt +neither, blindly and implicitly: try both by that best rule which God +has given to direct us, reason. Of all the troubles, do not decline, +as many people do, that of thinking. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Public speaking_ + + +London, 9 _Dec_. o.s. 1749. + +DEAR BOY, + +It is now above forty years since I have never spoken nor written +one single word, without giving myself at least one moment's time to +consider, whether it was a good one or a bad one, and whether I could +not find out a better in its place. An unharmonious and rugged period, +at this time, shocks my ears; and I, like all the rest of the world, +will willingly exchange and give up some degree of rough sense, for +a good degree of pleasing sound. I will freely and truly own to you, +without either vanity or false modesty, that whatever reputation I +have acquired as a speaker, is more owing to my constant attention to +my diction than to my matter, which was necessarily just the same as +other people's. When you come into parliament, your reputation as a +speaker will depend much more upon your words, and your periods than +upon the subject. The same matter occurs equally to everybody of +common sense, upon the same question: the dressing it well, is what +excites the attention and admiration of the audience. + +It is in parliament that I have set my heart upon your making a +figure; it is there that I want to have you justly proud of yourself, +and to make me justly proud of you. This means that you must be a good +speaker there; I use the word _must_, because I know you may if you +will. The vulgar, who are always mistaken, look upon a speaker and a +comet with the same astonishment and admiration, taking them both for +preternatural phenomena. This error discourages many young men from +attempting that character; and good speakers are willing to have their +talent considered as something very extraordinary, if not a peculiar +gift of God to his elect. But, let you and I analyze and simplify this +good speaker; let us strip him of those adventitious plumes with which +his own pride and the ignorance of others have decked him; and we +shall find the true definition of him to be no more than this: a +man of good common sense, who reasons justly, and expresses himself +elegantly, on that subject upon which he speaks. There is, surely, no +witchcraft in this. A man of sense, without a superior and astonishing +degree of parts, will not talk nonsense upon any subject; nor will he, +if he has the least taste or application, talk inelegantly. What then +does all this mighty art and mystery of speaking in parliament amount +to? Why, no more than this, that the man who speaks in the House +of Commons, speaks in that house, and to four hundred people, that +opinion upon a given subject which he would make no difficulty of +speaking in any house in England, round the fire, or at table, to +any fourteen people whatsoever; better judges, perhaps, and severer +critics of what he says, than any fourteen gentlemen of the House of +Commons. + +I have spoken frequently in parliament, and not always without some +applause; and therefore I can assure you, from my experience, that +there is very little in it. The elegancy of the style and the turn of +the periods make the chief impression upon the hearers. Give them but +one or two round and harmonious periods in a speech, which they will +retain and repeat, and they will go home as well satisfied as people +do from an opera, humming all the way one or two favourite tunes that +have struck their ears, and were easily caught. Most people have ears, +but few have judgement; tickle those ears, and, depend upon it, you +will catch their judgements, such as they are. + +Cicero, conscious that he was at the top of his profession (for in +his time eloquence was a profession), in order to set himself off, +defines, in his treatise _de Oratore_, an orator to be such a man as +never was, or never will be; and, by this fallacious argument, says +that he must know every art and science whatsoever, or how shall he +speak upon them? But with submission to so great an authority, my +definition of an orator is extremely different from, and I believe +much truer than, his. I call that man an orator who reasons justly, +and expresses himself elegantly, upon whatever subjects he treats. +Problems in geometry, equations in algebra, processes in chemistry, +and experiments in anatomy, are never, that I have heard of, the +objects of eloquence; and therefore I humbly conceive that a man may +be a very fine speaker, and yet know nothing of geometry, algebra, +chemistry, or anatomy. The subjects of all parliamentary debates are +subjects of common sense singly. + +Thus I write whatever occurs to me, that I think may contribute either +to form or inform you. May my labour not be in vain! and it will not, +if you will but have half the concern for yourself that I have for +you. Adieu. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The new Earl of Chatham_ + + +Blackheath, 1 _Aug._ 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +The curtain was at last drawn up, the day before yesterday, and +discovered the new actors together with some of the old ones. I do not +name them to you, because to-morrow's Gazette will do it full as well +as I could. Mr. Pitt, who had _carte blanche_ given him, named every +one of them: but what would you think he named himself for? Lord Privy +Seal; and (what will astonish you, as it does every mortal here) Earl +of Chatham. The joke here is, that he has had _a fall upstairs_, and +has done himself so much hurt, that he will never be able to stand +upon his legs again. Everybody is puzzled how to account for this +step; though it would not be the first time that great abilities have +been duped by low cunning. But be it what it will, he is now certainly +only Earl of Chatham; and no longer Mr. Pitt, in any respect whatever. +Such an event, I believe, was never read nor heard of. To withdraw, +in the fullness of his power, and in the utmost gratification of his +ambition, from the House of Commons, (which procured him his power, +and which could alone ensure it to him) and to go into that hospital +of incurables, the House of Lords, is a measure so unaccountable, that +nothing but proof positive could have made me believe it: but true it +is. Hans Stanley is to go ambassador to Russia; and my nephew, Ellis, +to Spain, decorated with the red ribband. Lord Shelburne is your +secretary of state, which I suppose he has notified to you this post +by a circular letter. Charles Townshend has now the sole management of +the House of Commons; but how long he will be content to be only Lord +Chatham's viceregent there, is a question which I will not pretend +to decide. There is one very bad sign for Lord Chatham in his new +dignity; which is, that all his enemies, without exception, rejoice at +it; and all his friends are stupefied and dumb-founded. If I mistake +not much, he will in the course of a year enjoy perfect _otium cum +dignitate_. Enough of politics. + +Is the fair, or at least the fat Miss C---- with you still? It must +be confessed that she knows the art of courts, to be so received at +Dresden and so connived at in Leicester-fields. + +There never was so wet a summer as this has been, in the memory of +man; we have not had one single day, since March, without some rain; +but most days a great deal. I hope that does not affect your health, +as great cold does; for with all these inundations it has not been +cold. God bless you! + + + + +SAMUEL JOHNSON + +1709-1784 + + + +To BENNET LANGTON + +_Postponement of a visit_ + + +6 _May_, 1755. + +SIR, + +It has been long observed, that men do not suspect faults which +they do not commit; your own elegance of manners, and punctuality of +complaisance, did not suffer you to impute to me that negligence +of which I was guilty, and [for] which I have not since atoned. +I received both your letters, and received them with pleasure +proportioned to the esteem which so short an acquaintance strongly +impressed, and which I hope to confirm by nearer knowledge, though I +am afraid that gratification will be for a time withheld. + +I have, indeed, published my book, of which I beg to know your +father's judgment, and yours; and I have now stayed long enough to +watch its progress in the world. It has, you see, no patrons, and +I think has yet had no opponents, except the critics of the +coffee-house, whose outcries are soon dispersed into the air, and are +thought on no more. From this, therefore, I am at liberty, and think +of taking the opportunity of this interval to make an excursion, and +why not then into Lincolnshire? or, to mention a stronger attraction, +why not to dear Mr. Langton? I will give the true reason, which I know +you will approve:--I have a mother more than eighty years old, who has +counted the days to the publication of my book, in hopes of seeing me; +and to her, if I can disengage myself here, I resolve to go. + +As I know, dear sir, that to delay my visit for a reason like this +will not deprive me of your esteem, I beg it may not lessen your +kindness. I have very seldom received an offer of friendship which I +so earnestly desire to cultivate and mature. I shall rejoice to hear +from you, till I can see you, and will see you as soon as I can; for +when the duty that calls me to Lichfield is discharged, my inclination +will carry me to Langton. I shall delight to hear the ocean roar, or +see the stars twinkle, in the company of men to whom Nature does not +spread her volumes or utter her voice in vain. + +Do not, dear sir, make the slowness of this letter a precedent +for delay, or imagine that I approved the incivility that I have +committed; for I have known you enough to love you, and sincerely to +wish a further knowledge; and I assure you once more, that to live in +a house that contains such a father and such a son, will be accounted +a very uncommon degree of pleasure by, dear sir, your most obliged and +most humble servant. + + + +TO MISS PORTER + +_A mother's death_ + + +23 _Jan._ 1759. + +You will conceive my sorrow for the loss of my mother, of the best +mother. If she were to live again, surely I should behave better to +her. But she is happy, and what is past is nothing to her; and for me, +since I cannot repair my faults to her, I hope repentance will +efface them. I return you and all those that have been good to her +my sincerest thanks, and pray God to repay you all with infinite +advantage. Write to me and comfort me, dear child. I shall be glad +likewise, if Kitty will write to me. I shall send a bill of twenty +pounds in a few days, which I thought to have brought to my mother; +but God suffered it not. I have not power or composure to say much +more. God bless you, and bless us all. + + + +To JOSEPH BARETTI + +_A letter of counsel_ + + +21 _Dec._ 1762. + +SIR, + +You are not to suppose, with all your conviction of my idleness, that +I have passed all this time without writing to my Baretti. I gave +a letter to Mr. Beauclerk, who, in my opinion, and in his own, was +hastening to Naples for the recovery of his health; but he has stopped +at Paris, and I know not when he will proceed. Langton is with him. + +I will not trouble you with speculations about peace and war. The good +or ill success of battles and embassies extends itself to a very small +part of domestic life: we all have good and evil, which we feel more +sensibly than our petty part of public miscarriage or prosperity. I am +sorry for your disappointment, with which you seem more touched than +I should expect a man of your resolution and experience to have been, +did I not know that general truths are seldom applied to particular +occasions; so that the fallacy of our self-love extends itself as wide +as our interest and affections. Every man believes that mistresses are +unfaithful, and patrons capricious; but he excepts his own mistress +and his own patron. We have all learned that greatness is negligent +and contemptuous, and that in courts, life is often languished away in +ungratified expectation; but he that approaches greatness, or glitters +in a court, imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from the +common lot. + +Do not let such evils overwhelm you as thousands have suffered and +thousands have surmounted; but turn your thoughts with vigour to +some other plan of life, and keep always in your mind that, with due +submission to Providence, a man of genius has been seldom ruined but +by himself. Your patron's weakness or insensibility will finally do +you little hurt, if he is not assisted by your own passions. Of your +love I know not the propriety, nor can estimate the power; but in +love, as in every other passion, of which hope is the essence, we +ought always to remember the uncertainty of events. There is indeed +nothing that so much seduces reason from her vigilance, as the thought +of passing life with an amiable woman; and if all would happen that +a lover fancies, I know not what other terrestrial happiness would +deserve pursuit. But love and marriage are different states. Those who +are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for the sakes of +one another, soon lose that tenderness of look and that benevolence +of mind which arose from the participation of unmingled pleasure and +successive amusement. A woman we are sure will not be always fair, +we are not sure she will always be virtuous; and man cannot retain +through life that respect and assiduity by which he pleases for a day +or for a month. I do not however pretend to have discovered that life +has anything more to be desired than a prudent and virtuous marriage; +therefore know not what counsel to give you. + +If you can quit your imagination of love and greatness, and leave your +hopes of preferment and bridal raptures to try once more the fortune +of literature and industry, the way through France is now open. We +flatter ourselves that we shall cultivate with great diligence the +arts of peace; and every man will be welcome among us who can teach +us anything we do not know. For your part, you will find all your old +friends willing to receive you.... + + + +To MRS. THRALE + +_Travel in Scotland_ + + +Skye, 21 _Sept._ 1773. + +DEAREST MADAM, + +I am so vexed at the necessity of sending yesterday so short a letter, +that I purpose to get a long letter beforehand by writing something +every day, which I may the more easily do, as a cold makes me now too +deaf to take the usual pleasure in conversation. Lady Macleod is very +good to me, and the place at which we now are, is equal in strength of +situation, in the wildness of the adjacent country, and in the plenty +and elegance of the domestic entertainment, to a castle in Gothic +romances. The sea with a little island is before us; cascades play +within view. Close to the house is the formidable skeleton of an old +castle probably Danish, and the whole mass of building stands upon +a protuberance of rock, inaccessible till of late but by a pair of +stairs on the sea side, and secure in ancient times against any enemy +that was likely to invade the kingdom of Skye. + +Macleod has offered me an island; if it were not too far off I should +hardly refuse it: my island would be pleasanter than Brighthelmstone, +if you and my master could come to it; but I cannot think it pleasant +to live quite alone. + + Oblitusque meorum, obliviscendus et illis. + +That I should be elated by the dominion of an island to forgetfulness +of my friends at Streatham I cannot believe, and I hope never to +deserve that they should be willing to forget me. + +It has happened that I have been often recognised in my journey +where I did not expect it. At Aberdeen I found one of my acquaintance +professor of physic; turning aside to dine with a country gentleman, I +was owned at table by one who had seen me at a philosophical lecture; +at Macdonald's I was claimed by a naturalist, who wanders about the +islands to pick up curiosities; and I had once in London attracted the +notice of Lady Macleod. I will now go on with my account. + +The Highland girl made tea, and looked and talked not inelegantly; her +father was by no means an ignorant or a weak man; there were books in +the cottage, among which were some volumes of Prideaux's _Connection_: +this man's conversation we were glad of while we stayed. He had been +_out_, as they call it, in forty-five, and still retained his old +opinions. He was going to America, because his rent was raised beyond +what he thought himself able to pay. + +At night our beds were made, but we had some difficulty in persuading +ourselves to lie down in them, though we had put on our own sheets; +at last we ventured, and I slept very soundly in the vale of Glen +Morrison, amidst the rocks and mountains. Next morning our landlord +liked us so well, that he walked some miles with us for our company, +through a country so wild and barren that the proprietor does not, +with all his pressure upon his tenants, raise more than four hundred +pounds a year for near one hundred square miles or sixty thousand +acres. He let us know that he had forty head of black cattle, an +hundred goats, and an hundred sheep, upon a farm that he remembered +let at five pounds a year, but for which he now paid twenty. He told +us some stories of their march into England. At last he left us, +and we went forward, winding among mountains, sometimes green and +sometimes naked, commonly so steep as not easily to be climbed by +the greatest vigour and activity: our way was often crossed by little +rivulets, and we were entertained with small streams trickling from +the rocks, which after heavy rains must be tremendous torrents. + +About noon we came to a small glen, so they call a valley, which +compared with other places appeared rich and fertile; here our guides +desired us to stop, that the horses might graze, for the journey +was very laborious, and no more grass would be found. We made no +difficulty of compliance, and I sat down to take notes on a green +bank, with a small stream running at my feet, in the midst of savage +solitude, with mountains before me, and on either hand covered with +heath. I looked around me, and wondered that I was not more affected, +but the mind is not at all times equally ready to be put in motion; +if my mistress and master and Queeny had been there we should have +produced some reflections among us, either poetical or philosophical, +for though _solitude be the nurse of woe_, conversation is often the +parent of remarks and discoveries. + +In about an hour we remounted, and pursued our journey. The lake by +which we had travelled for some time ended in a river, which we passed +by a bridge, and came to another glen, with a collection of huts, +called Auknashealds; the huts were generally built of clods of earth, +held together by the intertexture of vegetable fibres, of which earth +there are great levels in Scotland which they call mosses. Moss in +Scotland is bog in Ireland, and moss-trooper is bog-trotter: there +was, however, one hut built of loose stones, piled up with great +thickness into a strong though not solid wall. From this house we +obtained some great pails of milk, and having brought bread with us, +were very liberally regaled. The inhabitants, a very coarse tribe, +ignorant of any language but Erse, gathered so fast about us, that if +we had not had Highlanders with us, they might have caused more alarm +than pleasure; they are called the Clan of Macrae. + +We had been told that nothing gratified the Highlanders so much as +snuff and tobacco, and had accordingly stored ourselves with both at +Fort Augustus. Boswell opened his treasure, and gave them each a piece +of tobacco roll. We had more bread than we could eat for the present, +and were more liberal than provident. Boswell cut it in slices, and +gave them an opportunity of tasting wheaten bread for the first time. +I then got some halfpence for a shilling, and made up the deficiencies +of Boswell's distribution, who had given some money among the +children. We then directed that the mistress of the stone house should +be asked what we must pay her: she, who perhaps had never before +sold anything but cattle, knew not, I believe, well what to ask, and +referred herself to us: we obliged her to make some demand, and one of +the Highlanders settled the account with her at a shilling. One of the +men advised her, with the cunning that clowns never can be without, to +ask more; but she said that a shilling was enough. We gave her half +a crown, and she offered part of it again. The Macraes were so well +pleased with our behaviour, that they declared it the best day they +had seen since the time of the old Laird of Macleod, who, I suppose, +like us, stopped in their valley, as he was travelling to Skye.... + +I cannot forbear to interrupt my narrative. Boswell, with some of his +troublesome kindness, has informed this family and reminded me that +the 18th of September is my birthday. The return of my birthday, if I +remember it, fills me with thoughts which it seems to be the general +care of humanity to escape. I can now look back upon three score +and four years, in which little has been done, and little has been +enjoyed; a life diversified by misery, spent part in the sluggishness +of penury, and part under the violence of pain, in gloomy discontent +or importunate distress. But perhaps I am better than I should have +been if I had been less afflicted. With this I will try to be content. + +In proportion as there is less pleasure in retrospective +considerations, the mind is more disposed to wander forward into +futurity; but at sixty-four what promises, however liberal, of +imaginary good can futurity venture to make? Yet something will be +always promised and some promises will always be credited. I am hoping +and I am praying that I may live better in the time to come, whether +long or short, than I have yet lived, and in the solace of that +hope endeavour to repose. Dear Queeny's day is next, I hope she at +sixty-four will have less to regret.... + +You will now expect that I should give you some account of the Isle of +Skye, of which, though I have been twelve days upon it, I have little +to say. It is an island perhaps fifty miles long, so much indented by +inlets of the sea that there is no part of it removed from the water +more than six miles. No part that I have seen is plain; you are always +climbing or descending, and every step is upon rock or mire. A walk +upon ploughed ground in England is a dance upon carpets compared to +the toilsome drudgery of wandering in Skye. There is neither town nor +village in the island, nor have I seen any house but Macleod's, that +is not much below your habitation at Brighthelmstone. In the mountains +there are stags and roebucks, but no hares, and few rabbits; nor have +I seen anything that interested me as a zoologist, except an otter, +bigger than I thought an otter could have been. + +You perhaps are imagining that I am withdrawn from the gay and +the busy world into regions of peace and pastoral felicity, and am +enjoying the relics of the golden age; that I am surveying nature's +magnificence from a mountain, or remarking her minuter beauties on the +flowery bank of a winding rivulet; that I am invigorating myself in +the sunshine, or delighting my imagination with being hidden from +the invasion of human evils and human passions in the darkness of a +thicket; that I am busy in gathering shells and pebbles on the shore, +or contemplative on a rock, from which I look upon the water, and +consider how many waves are rolling between me and Streatham. + +The use of travelling is to regulate imagination by reality, and +instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are. Here +are mountains which I should once have climbed, but to climb steps +is now very laborious, and to descend them dangerous; and I am now +content with knowing, that by scrambling up a rock, I shall only see +other rocks, and a wider circuit of barren desolation. Of streams, we +have here a sufficient number, but they murmur not upon pebbles, but +upon rocks. Of flowers, if Chloris herself were here, I could present +her only with the bloom of heath. Of lawns and thickets, he must read +that would know them, for here is little sun and no shade. On the sea +I look from my window, but am not much tempted to the shore; for since +I came to this island, almost every breath of air has been a storm, +and what is worse, a storm with all its severity, but without its +magnificence, for the sea is here so broken into channels that there +is not a sufficient volume of water either for lofty surges or a loud +roar.... + + + +TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + +_Patronage_ + + +7 _Feb_. 1775. + +MY LORD, + +I have been lately informed, by the proprietor of _The World_, that +two papers, in which my _Dictionary_ is recommended to the public, are +by your lordship. To be so distinguished is an honour, which, being +very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well how +to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. + +When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your lordship, I +was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your +address, and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself _le +vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre_;--that I might obtain that regard +for which I saw the world contending; but I found my attendance so +little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to +continue it. When I had once addressed your lordship in public, I +had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly +scholar can possess. I had done all I could; and no man is well +pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. + +Seven years, my lord, have now passed, since I waited in your outward +rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been +pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to +complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, +without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile +of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron +before. + +The shepherd in _Virgil_ grew at last acquainted with Love, and found +him a native of the rocks. + +Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man +struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached ground, +encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to +take of my labours, had it been early had been kind; but it has +been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am +solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I +hope it is no very cynical asperity, not to confess obligations, +where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public +should consider me as owing that to a patron, which Providence has +enabled me to do for myself. + +Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any +favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I shall +conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been long +wakened from that dream of hope in which I once boasted myself with so +much exultation. + +My Lord, + +Your Lordship's most humble, +most obedient servant. + + + +To JAMES BOSWELL + +_A silent friend_ + + +13 _July_, 1779. + +DEAR SIR, + +What can possibly have happened that keeps us two such strangers to +each other? I expected to have heard from you when you came home; I +expected afterwards. I went into the country and returned, and yet +there is no letter from Mr. Boswell. No ill, I hope, has happened; and +if ill should happen, why should it be concealed from him who loves +you? Is it a fit of humour, that has disposed you to try who can hold +out longest without writing? If it be, you have the victory. But I am +afraid of something bad; set me free from my suspicions. + +My thoughts are at present employed in guessing the reason of your +silence; you must not expect that I should tell you anything, if I had +anything to tell. Write, pray write to me, and let me know what is or +what has been the cause of this long interruption. + + + +To MRS. THRALE + +_A great man's fortitude_ + + +19 _June_, 1783. + +ON Monday the 16th, I sat for my picture and walked a considerable way +with little inconvenience. In the afternoon and evening I felt myself +light and easy, and began to plan schemes of life. Thus I went to bed, +and in a short time waked and sat up, as has been long my custom, +when I felt a confusion and indistinctness in my head, which lasted, +I suppose, about half a minute. I was alarmed, and prayed God, that +however he might afflict my body, he would spare my understanding. +This prayer, that I might try the integrity of my faculties, I made in +Latin verse. The lines were not very good, but I knew them not to be +very good: I made them easily, and concluded myself to be unimpaired +in my faculties. + +Soon after I perceived that I had suffered a paralytic stroke, +and that my speech was taken from me. I had no pain, and so little +dejection in this dreadful state, that I wondered at my own apathy, +and considered that perhaps death itself, when it should come, would +excite less horror than seems now to attend it. + +In order to rouse the vocal organs, I took two drams. Wine has been +celebrated for the production of eloquence. I put myself into violent +motion, and I think repeated it; but all was vain. I then went to bed, +and strange as it may seem, I slept. When I saw light, it was time to +contrive what I should do. Though God stopped my speech, he left me +my hands; I enjoyed a mercy which was not granted to my dear friend +Lawrence, who now perhaps overlooks me as I am writing, and rejoices +that I have what he wanted. My first note was necessarily to my +servant, who came in talking, and could not immediately comprehend why +he should read what I put into his hands. I then wrote a card to Mr. +Allen, that I might have a discreet friend at hand, to act as occasion +should require. In penning this note I had some difficulty; my hand, +I knew not how nor why, made wrong letters. I then wrote to Dr. Taylor +to come to me, and bring Dr. Heberden: and I sent to Dr. Brocklesby, +who is my neighbour. My physicians are very friendly, and give me +great hopes; but you may imagine my situation. I have so far recovered +my vocal powers, as to repeat the Lord's Prayer with no very imperfect +articulation. My memory, I hope, yet remains as it was! but such an +attack produces solicitude for the safety of every faculty. + + + + +LAURENCE STERNE + +1713-1768 + + + +To Miss LUMLEY + +_The disconsolate lover_ + + +[1740-1] + +You bid me tell you, my dear L., how I bore your departure for S----, +and whether the valley, where D'Estella stands, retains still its +looks, or if I think the roses or jessamines smell as sweet as when +you left it. Alas! everything has now lost its relish and look! The +hour you left D'Estella I took to my bed. I was worn out with fevers +of all kinds, but most by that fever of the heart with which thou +knowest well I have been wasting these two years--and shall continue +wasting till you quit S----. The good Miss S----, from the forebodings +of the best of hearts, thinking I was ill, insisted upon my going to +her. What can be the cause, my dear L., that I never have been able to +see the face of this mutual friend, but I feel myself rent to pieces? +She made me stay an hour with her, and in that short space I burst +into tears a dozen different times, and in such affectionate gusts of +passion, that she was constrained to leave the room, and sympathize +in her dressing-room. I have been weeping for you both, said she, in +a tone of the sweetest pity--for poor L.'s heart, I have long known +it--her anguish is as sharp as yours--her heart as tender--her +constancy as great--her virtues as heroic--Heaven brought you not +together to be tormented. I could only answer her with a kind look, +and a heavy sigh, and returned home to your lodgings (which I have +hired till your return) to resign myself to misery. Fanny had prepared +me a supper--she is all attention to me--but I sat over it with tears; +a bitter sauce, my L., but I could eat it with no other; for the +moment she began to spread my little table, my heart fainted within +me. One solitary plate, one knife, one fork, one glass! I gave a +thousand pensive, penetrating looks at the chair thou hadst so often +graced, in those quiet and sentimental repasts, then laid down my +knife and fork, and took out my handkerchief, and clapped it across +my face, and wept like a child. I could do so this very moment, my L.; +for, as I take up my pen, my poor pulse quickens, my pale face glows, +and tears are trickling down upon the paper, as I trace the word +L----. O thou! blessed in thyself, and in thy virtues, blessed to all +that know thee--to me most so, because more do I know of thee than all +thy sex. This is the philtre, my L., by which thou hast charmed me, +and by which thou wilt hold me thine, while virtue and faith hold this +world together. This, my friend, is the plain and simple magic, by +which I told Miss ---- I have won a place in that heart of thine, on +which I depend so satisfied, that time, or distance, or change of +everything which might alarm the hearts of little men, create no +uneasy suspense in mine. Wast thou to stay in S---- these seven +years, thy friend, though he would grieve, scorns to doubt, or to be +doubted--'tis the only exception where security is not the parent of +danger. + +I told you poor Fanny was all attention to me since your +departure--contrives every day bringing in the name of L. She told +me last night (upon giving me some hartshorn), she had observed my +illness began the very day of your departure for S----; that I had +never held up my head, had seldom, or scarce ever, smiled, had fled +from all society; that she verily believed I was broken-hearted, for +she had never entered the room, or passed by the door, but she heard +me sigh heavily; that I neither eat, or slept, or took pleasure in +anything as before. Judge then, my L., can the valley look so well, +or the roses and jessamines smell so sweet as heretofore? Ah me! but +adieu--the vesper bell calls me from thee to my GOD. + + + +To DAVID GARRICK + +_Le chevalier Shandy_ + + +Paris, 19 _March_, 1762. + + +DEAR GARRICK, + +This will be put into your hands by Dr. Shippen, a physician, who has +been here some time with Miss Poyntz, and is at this moment setting +out for your metropolis; so I snatch the opportunity of writing to you +and my kind friend Mrs. Garrick. I see nothing like her here, and yet +I have been introduced to one half of their best Goddesses, and in a +month more shall be admitted to the shrines of the other half; but I +neither worship or fall (much) on my knees before them; but, on the +contrary, have converted many unto Shandeism; for be it known, I +Shandy it away fifty times more than I was ever wont, talk more +nonsense than ever you heard me talk in your days--and to all sorts +of people. _Qui le diable est cet homme-là _--said Choiseul t'other +day--_ce chevalier Shandy_? You'll think me as vain as a devil, was I +to tell you the rest of the dialogue; whether the bearer knows it or +no, I know not. 'Twill serve up after supper, in Southampton-street, +amongst other small dishes, after the fatigues of Richard III. O God! +they have nothing here, which gives the nerves so smart a blow, as +those great characters in the hands of Garrick! but I forgot I +am writing to the man himself. The devil take (as he will) these +transports of enthusiasm! Apropos, the whole city of Paris is +_bewitched_ with the comic opera, and if it was not for the affair +of the Jesuits, which takes up one half of our talk, the comic opera +would have it all. It is a tragical nuisance in all companies as it +is, and was it not for some sudden starts and dashes of Shandeism, +which now and then either break the thread, or entangle it so, that +the devil himself would be puzzled in winding it off, I should die a +martyr--this by the way I never will. + +I send you over some of these comic operas by the bearer, with the +_Sallon_, a satire. The French comedy, I seldom visit it--they act +scarce in anything but tragedies--and the Clairon is great, and Mile. +Dumesnil, in some places, still greater than her; yet I cannot bear +preaching--I fancy I got a surfeit of it in my younger days. There +is a tragedy to be damned to-night--peace be with it, and the gentle +brain which made it! I have ten thousand things to tell you I cannot +write, I do a thousand things which cut no figure, _but in the +doing_--and as in London, I have the honour of having done and said a +thousand things I never did or dreamed of--and yet I dream abundantly. +If the devil stood behind me in the shape of a courier, I could not +write faster than I do, having five letters more to dispatch by the +same gentleman; he is going into another section of the globe, and +when he has seen you, will depart in peace. + +The Duke of Orleans has suffered my portrait to be added to the number +of some odd men in his collection; and a gentleman who lives with him +has taken it most expressively, at full length: I purpose to obtain an +etching of it, and to send it you. Your prayer for me of _rosy health_ +is heard. If I stay here for three or four months, I shall return more +than reinstated. My love to Mrs. Garrick. + + + +To MR. FOLEY AT PARIS + +_An adventure on the road_ + + +Toulouse, 14 _Aug_. 1762. + +MY DEAR FOLEY, + +After many turnings (_alias_ digressions), to say nothing of downright +overthrows, stops, and delays, we have arrived in three weeks at +Toulouse, and are now settled in our houses with servants, &c., about +us, and look as composed as if we had been here seven years. In +our journey we suffered so much from the heats, it gives me pain to +remember it; I never saw a cloud from Paris to Nismes half as broad as +a twenty-four sols piece. Good God! we were toasted, roasted, grilled, +stewed and carbonaded on one side or other all the way; and being all +done enough (_assez cuits_) in the day, we were eat up at night by +bugs, and other unswept-out vermin, the legal inhabitants (if length +of possession gives right) of every inn we lay at. Can you conceive +a worse accident than that in such a journey, in the hottest day and +hour of it, four miles from either tree or shrub which could cast a +shade of the size of one of Eve's fig leaves, that we should break a +hind wheel into ten thousand pieces, and be obliged in consequence +to sit five hours on a gravelly road, without one drop of water, or +possibility of getting any? To mend the matter, my two postillions +were two dough-hearted fools, and fell a-crying. Nothing was to be +done! By heaven, quoth I, pulling off my coat and waistcoat, something +shall be done, for I'll thrash you both within an inch of your lives, +and then make you take each of you a horse, and ride like two devils +to the next post for a cart to carry my baggage, and a wheel to +carry ourselves. Our luggage weighed ten quintals. It was the fair +of Baucaire, all the world was going, or returning; we were asked by +every soul who passed by us, if we were going to the fair of Baucaire. +No wonder, quoth I, we have goods enough! _vous avez raison, mes +amis_.... + + + + +THOMAS GRAY + +1716-1771 + +To RICHARD WEST + +_Scenery at Tivoli_ + + +Tivoli, 20 _May_, 1740. + +This day being in the palace of his Highness the Duke of Modena, he +laid his most serene commands upon me to write to Mr. West, and said +he thought it for his glory, that I should draw up an inventory of all +his most serene possessions for the said West's perusal. Imprimis, +a house, being in circumference a quarter of a mile, two feet and an +inch; the said house containing the following particulars, to wit, +a great room. Item, another great room; item, a bigger room; item, +another room; item, a vast room; item, a sixth of the same; a seventh +ditto; an eighth as before; a ninth as above said; a tenth (see No. +1); item, ten more such, besides twenty besides, which, not to be too +particular, we shall pass over. The said rooms contain nine chairs, +two tables, five stools and a cricket. From whence we shall proceed +to the garden, containing two millions of superfine laurel hedges, +a clump of cypress trees, and half the river Teverone.--Finis. Dame +Nature desired me to put in a list of her little goods and chattels, +and, as they were small, to be very minute about them. She has built +here three or four little mountains, and laid them out in an irregular +semi-circle; from certain others behind, at a greater distance, she +has drawn a canal, into which she has put a little river of hers, +called Anio; she has cut a huge cleft between the two innermost of her +four hills, and there she has left it to its own disposal; which she +has no sooner done, but, like a heedless chit, it tumbles headlong +down a declivity fifty feet perpendicular, breaks itself all to +shatters, and is converted into a shower of rain, where the sun forms +many a bow, red, green, blue, and yellow. To get out of our metaphors +without any further trouble, it is the most noble sight in the world. +The weight of that quantity of waters, and the force they fall with, +have worn the rocks they throw themselves among into a thousand +irregular craggs, and to a vast depth. In this channel it goes boiling +along with a mighty noise till it comes to another steep, where you +see it a second time come roaring down (but first you must walk +two miles farther) a greater height than before, but not with that +quantity of waters; for by this time it has divided itself, being +crossed and opposed by the rocks, into four several streams, each of +which, in emulation of the great one, will tumble down too; and it +does tumble down, but not from an equally elevated place; so that you +have at one view all these cascades intermixed with groves of olive +and little woods, the mountains rising behind them, and on the top of +one (that which forms the extremity of one of the half-circle's horns) +is seated the town itself. At the very extremity of that extremity, on +the brink of the precipice, stands the Sybil's temple, the remains +of a little rotunda, surrounded with its portico, above half of whose +beautiful Corinthian pillars are still standing and entire; all this +on one hand. On the other, the open Campagna of Rome, here and there +a little castle on a hillock, and the city itself at the very brink of +the horizon, indistinctly seen (being eighteen miles off) except the +dome of St. Peter's; which, if you look out of your window, wherever +you are, I suppose, you can see. I did not tell you that a little +below the first fall, on the side of the rock, and hanging over that +torrent, are little ruins which they show you for Horace's house, a +curious situation to observe the + + Praeceps Anio et Tiburni lucus, et uda + Mobilibus pomaria rivis. + +Maecenas did not care for such a noise, it seems, and built him a +house (which they also carry one to see) so situated that it sees +nothing at all of the matter, and for anything he knew there might be +no such river in the world. Horace had another house on the other side +of the Teverone, opposite to Maecenas's; and they told us there was +a bridge of communication, by which _andava il detto Signor per +trastullarsi coll' istesso Orazio_. In coming hither we crossed the +Aquae Albulae, a vile little brook that stinks like a fury, and they +say it has stunk so these thousand years. I forgot the Piscina of +Quintilius Varus, where he used to keep certain little fishes. This +is very entire, and there is a piece of the aqueduct that supplied it +too; in the garden below is old Rome, built in little, just as it was, +they say. There are seven temples in it, and no houses at all; they +say there were none. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A poet's melancholy_ + + +London, 27 _May_, 1742. + +Mine, you are to know is a white Melancholy, or rather Leucocholy +for the most part; which, though it seldom laughs or dances, nor ever +amounts to what one called Joy or Pleasure, yet is a good easy sort +of a state, and _ça ne laisse que de s'amuser._ The only fault is its +insipidity; which is apt now and then to give a sort of Ennui, which +makes one form certain little wishes that signify nothing. But there +is another sort, black indeed, which I have now and then felt, that +has somewhat in it like Tertullian's rule of faith, _Credo quia +impossibile est_; for it believes, nay, is sure of everything that is +unlikely, so it be but frightful; and on the other hand excludes and +shuts its eyes to the most possible hopes, and everything that is +pleasurable; from this the Lord deliver us! for none but he and +sunshiny weather can do it. In hopes of enjoying this kind of weather +I am going into the country for a few weeks, but shall be never the +nearer any society; so, if you have any charity, you will continue to +write. My life is like Harry the Fourth's supper of Hens, 'Poulets à +la broche, Poulets en Ragoût, Poulets en Hâchis, Poulets en Fricassées +'. Reading here, Reading there; nothing but books with different +sauces. Do not let me lose my desert then; for though that be Reading +too, yet it has a very different flavour. The May seems to be come +since your invitation; and I propose to bask in her beams and dress me +in her roses. + + Et caput in verna semper habere rosa. + +I shall see Mr. ---- and his Wife, nay, and his Child, too, for he has +got a Boy. Is it not odd to consider one's Cotemporaries in the grave +light of Husband and Father? There is my lords Sandwich and Halifax, +they are Statesmen: Do not you remember them dirty boys playing at +cricket? As for me, I am never a bit the older, nor the bigger, nor +the wiser than I was then: no, not for having been beyond sea. Pray, +how are you?... + + + +To HORACE WALPOLE + +_The fate of Selima_ + + +Cambridge, 1 _March_, 1747. + +As one ought to be particularly careful to avoid blunders in a +compliment of condolence, it would be a sensible satisfaction to +me (before I testify my sorrow, and the sincere part I take in your +misfortune) to know for certain, who it is that I lament. I knew Zara +and Selima (Selima, was it? or Fatima?) or rather I knew both of them +together; for I cannot justly say which was which. Then as to your +handsome Cat, the name you distinguished her by, I am no less at a +loss, as well knowing one's handsome cat is always the cat one likes +best; or if one be alive and the other dead, it is usually the latter +that is the handsomest. Besides, if the point were never so clear, I +hope you do not think me so ill-bred or so imprudent as to forfeit all +my interest in the survivor; Oh no! I would rather seem to mistake, +and to be sure it must be the tabby one that had met with this sad +accident. Till this affair is a little better determined, you will +excuse me if I do not begin to cry: + + Tempus inane peto, requiem, spatiumque doloris. + +Which interval is the more convenient, as it gives time to rejoice +with you on your new honours. This is only a beginning; I reckon next +week we shall hear you are a free-Mason, or a Gormorgon at least. +Heigh ho! I feel (as you to be sure have done long since) that I have +very little to say, at least in prose. Somebody will be the better for +it; I do not mean you, but your Cat, feuë Mademoiselle Selime, whom I +am about to immortalize for one week or fortnight, as follows. + +... There's a poem for you, it is rather too long for an Epitaph. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Publication of the Elegy_ + + +Cambridge, 11 _Feb_. 1751. + +As you have brought me into a little sort of distress, you must assist +me, I believe, to get out of it as well as I can. Yesterday I had +the misfortune of receiving a letter from certain gentlemen (as their +bookseller expresses it), who have taken the _Magazine of Magazines_ +into their hands. They tell me that an _ingenious_ poem, called +_Reflections in a Country Churchyard_, has been communicated to them, +which they are printing forthwith; that they are informed that the +_excellent_ author of it is I by name, and that they beg not only his +_indulgence_, but the _honour_ of his correspondence, &c. As I am not +at all disposed to be either so indulgent, or so correspondent, as +they desire, I have but one bad way left to escape the honour they +would inflict upon me; and, therefore, am obliged to desire you would +make Dodsley print it immediately (which may be done in less than a +week's time) from your copy, but without my name, in what form is +most convenient for him, but on his best paper and character; he must +correct the press himself, and print it without any interval between +the stanzas, because the sense is in some places continued +beyond them; and the title must be,--_Elegy, written in a Country +Churchyard_. If he would add a line or two to say it came into +his hands by accident, I should like it better. If you behold the +_Magazine of Magazines_ in the light that I do, you will not refuse to +give yourself this trouble on my account, which you have taken of your +own accord before now. If Dodsley do not do this immediately, he may +as well let it alone. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_At Burnham_ + + +[Burnham,] _Sept_. 1737. + +I was hindered in my last, and so could not give you all the trouble +I would have done. The description of a road, which your coach wheels +have so often honoured, it would be needless to give you; suffice +it that I arrived safe at my uncle's, who is a great hunter in +imagination; his dogs take up every chair in the house, so I am forced +to stand at this present writing; and though the gout forbids him +galloping after them in the field, yet he continues to regale his ears +and nose with their comfortable noise and stink. He holds me mighty +cheap, I perceive, for walking when I should ride, and reading when +I should hunt. My comfort amidst all this is, that I have at the +distance of half a mile, through a green lane, a forest (the vulgar +call it a common) all my own, at least as good as so, for I spy no +human thing in it but myself. It is a little chaos of mountains and +precipices; mountains, it is true, that do not ascend much above the +clouds, nor are the declivities quite so amazing as Dover Cliff; but +just such hills as people who love their necks as well as I do may +venture to climb, and crags that give the eye as much pleasure as if +they were more dangerous. Both vale and hill are covered with most +venerable beeches, and other very reverend vegetables, that, like most +other ancient people, are always dreaming out their old stories to the +winds. + + _And as they bow their hoary tops relate, + In murm'ring sounds, the dark decrees of fate; + While visions, as poetic eyes avow, + Cling to each leaf, and swarm on every bough._ + +At the foot of one of these squats ME I (_ilpenseroso_), and there +grow to the trunk for a whole morning. The timorous hare and sportive +squirrel gambol round me like Adam in Paradise, before he had an Eve; +but I think he did not use to read Virgil, as I commonly do there. +In this situation I often converse with my Horace, aloud too, that is +talk to you, but I do not remember that I ever heard you answer me. +I beg pardon for taking all the conversation to myself, but it is +entirely your own fault.... + + + +To THE REV. WILLIAM MASON + +_The Laureateship_ + + +19 _Dec_. 1757. + +DEAR MASON, + +Though I very well know the bland emollient saponaceous qualities both +of sack and silver, yet if any great man would say to me, 'I make you +Rat-catcher to his Majesty, with a salary of £300 a-year and two butts +of the best Malaga; and though it has been usual to catch a mouse or +two, for form's sake, in public once a year, yet to you, sir, we shall +not stand on these things,' I cannot say I should jump at it; nay, if +they would drop the very name of the office, and call me Sinecure +to the King's Majesty, I should feel a little awkward, and think +everybody I saw smelt a rat about me; but I do not pretend to blame +any one else that has not the same sensations; for my part, I would +rather be serjeant trumpeter or pinmaker to the palace. Nevertheless +I interest myself a little in the history of it, and rather wish +somebody may accept it who will retrieve the credit of the thing, if +it be retrieveable, or ever had any credit. Rowe was, I think, the +last man of character that had it. As to Settle, whom you mention, +he belonged to my lord mayor, not to the King. Eusden was a person +of great hopes in his youth, though at last he turned out a drunken +person. Dryden was as disgraceful to the office from his character, +as the poorest scribbler could have been from his verses. The office +itself has always humbled the professor hitherto (even in an age when +kings were somebody), if he were a poor writer by making him more +conspicuous, and if he were a good one by setting him at war with the +little fry of his own profession, for there are poets little enough to +envy even a poet laureate. + + + +To DR. WHARTON + +_A holiday in Kent_ + + +Pembroke College, 26 _Aug_. 1766. + +DEAR DOCTOR, + +Whatever my pen may do, I am sure my thoughts expatiate nowhere +oftener, or with more pleasure, than to Old Park. I hope you have made +my peace with Miss Deborah. It is certain, whether her name were in +my letter or not, she was as present to my memory as the rest of the +little family; and I desire you would present her with two kisses +in my name, and one a piece to all the others; for I shall take the +liberty to kiss them all (great and small) as you are to be my proxy. + +In spite of the rain, which I think continued with very short +intervals till the beginning of this month, and quite effaced the +summer from the year, I made a shift to pass May and June, not +disagreeably, in Kent. I was surprised at the beauty of the road +to Canterbury, which (I know not why) had not struck me in the same +manner before. The whole country is a rich and well cultivated garden; +orchards, cherry grounds, hop grounds, intermixed with corn and +frequent villages, gentle risings covered with wood, and everywhere +the Thames and Medway breaking in upon the landscape, with all their +navigation. It was indeed owing to the bad weather that the whole +scene was dressed in that tender emerald green, which one usually sees +only for a fortnight in the opening of Spring; and this continued till +I left the country. My residence was eight miles east of Canterbury, +in a little quiet valley on the skirts of Barham Down; in these parts +the whole soil is chalk, and whenever it holds up, in half an hour +it is dry enough to walk out. I took the opportunity of three or four +days fine weather to go into the Isle of Thanet, saw Margate (which +is Bartholomew Fair by the seaside), Ramsgate, and other places there; +and so came by Sandwich, Deal, Dover, Folkestone, and Hythe, back +again. The coast is not like Hartlepool, there are no rocks, but +only chalky cliffs, of no great height, till you come to Dover. There +indeed they are noble and picturesque, and the opposite coasts of +France begin to bound your view, which was left before to range +unlimited by anything but the horizon; yet it is by no means a +_shipless_ sea, but everywhere peopled with white sails and vessels of +all sizes in motion; and take notice (except in the Isle, which is all +corn fields, and has very little enclosure), there are in all places +hedgerows and tall trees, even within a few yards of the beach, +particularly Hythe stands on an eminence covered with wood. I shall +confess we had fires of a night (aye and a day too) several times even +in June: but don't go too far and take advantage of this, for it was +the most untoward year that ever I remember. + +Your friend Rousseau (I doubt) grows tired of Mr. Davenport and +Derbyshire; he has picked a quarrel with David Hume, and writes +him letters of fourteen pages folio, upbraiding him with all his +_noirceurs_; take one only as a specimen. He says, that at Calais +they chanced to sleep in the same room together, and that he overheard +David talking in his sleep, and saying, '_Ah! je le tiens, ce +Jean-Jacques là _.' In short (I fear), for want of persecution and +admiration (for these are his real complaints), he will go back to the +Continent. + +What shall I say to you about the ministry? I am as angry as a +common council man of London about my Lord Chatham; but a little more +patient, and will hold my tongue till the end of the year. In the +meantime I do mutter in secret, and to you, that to quit the House of +Commons, his natural strength, to sap his own popularity and grandeur +(which no one but himself could have done) by assuming a foolish +title; and to hope that he could win by it, and attach to him a court +that hate him, and will dismiss him as soon as ever they dare, was the +weakest thing that ever was done by so great a man. Had it not been +for this, I should have rejoiced at the breach between him and Lord +Temple, and at the union between him and the Duke of Grafton and +Mr. Conway: but patience! we shall see! Stonehewer perhaps is in the +country (for he hoped for a month's leave of absence), and if you see +him you will learn more than I can tell you. + + + + +HORACE WALPOLE + +1717-1797 + + + +To RICHARD WEST + +_Floods in the Arno_ + + +From Florence, _Nov_. 1740. + +Child, I am going to let you see your shocking proceedings with us. On +my conscience, I believe 'tis three months since you wrote to either +Gray or me. If you had been ill, Ashton would have said so; and if +you had been dead, the gazettes would have said it. If you had been +angry,--but that's impossible; how can one quarrel with folks three +thousand miles off? We are neither divines nor commentators, and +consequently have not hated you on paper. 'Tis to show that my charity +for you cannot be interrupted at this distance that I write to you, +though I have nothing to say, for 'tis a bad time for small news; and +when emperors and czarinas are dying all up and down Europe, one can't +pretend to tell you of anything that happens within our sphere. Not +but that we have our accidents too. If you have had a great wind in +England, we have had a great water at Florence. We have been trying +to set out every day, and pop upon you[1] ... It is fortunate that +we stayed, for I don't know what had become of us! Yesterday, with +violent rains, there came flouncing down from the mountains such a +flood that it floated the whole city. The jewellers on the Old Bridge +removed their commodities, and in two hours after the bridge was +cracked. The torrent broke down the quays and drowned several +coach-horses, which are kept here in stables under ground. We were +moated into our house all day, which is near the Arno, and had the +miserable spectacles of the ruins that were washed along with the +hurricane. There was a cart with two oxen not quite dead, and four men +in it drowned: but what was ridiculous, there came tiding along a +fat hay-cock, with a hen and her eggs, and a cat. The torrent is +considerably abated; but we expect terrible news from the country, +especially from Pisa, which stands so much lower, and nearer the +sea. There is a stone here, which, when the water overflows, Pisa is +entirely flooded. The water rose two ells yesterday above that stone. +Judge! + +For this last month we have passed our time but dully, all diversions +silenced on the Emperor's death, and everybody out of town. I have +seen nothing but cards and dull pairs of cicisbeos. I have literally +seen so much of love and pharaoh since being here, that I believe I +shall never love either again so long as I live. Then I am got into +a horrid lazy way of a morning. I don't believe I should know seven +o'clock in the morning again if I was to see it. But I am returning to +England, and shall grow very solemn and wise! Are you wise? Dear West, +have pity on one who has done nothing of gravity for these two years, +and do laugh sometimes. We do nothing else, and have contracted such +formidable ideas of the good people of England that we are already +nourishing great black eyebrows and great black beards, and teasing +our countenances into wrinkles. + +[Footnote 1: MS. torn here.] + + + +To RICHARD BENTLEY + +_Pictures and Garrick_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 15 _Aug_. 1755. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +Though I wrote to you so lately, and have certainly nothing new to +tell you, I can't help scribbling a line to you to-night, as I am +going to Mr. Rigby's for a week or ten days, and must thank you first +for the three pictures. One of them charms me, the Mount Orgueil, +which is absolutely fine; the sea, and shadow upon it, are masterly. +The other two I don't, at least won't, take for finished. If you +please, Elizabeth Castle shall be Mr. Müntz's performance: indeed I +see nothing of you in it. I do reconnoitre you in the Hercules and +Nessus; but in both, your colours are dirty, carelessly dirty: in +your distant hills you are improved, and not hard. The figures are too +large--I don't mean in the Elizabeth Castle, for there they are neat; +but the centaur, though he dies as well as Garrick can, is outrageous. +Hercules and Deianira are by no means so: he is sentimental, and she +most improperly sorrowful. However, I am pleased enough to beg you +would continue. As soon as Mr. Müntz returns from the Vine, you shall +have a good supply of colours. In the meantime why give up the good +old trade of drawing? Have you no Indian ink, no soot-water, no snuff, +no coat of onion, no juice of anything? If you love me, draw: you +would if you knew the real pleasure you can give me. I have been +studying all your drawings; and next to architecture and trees, I +determine that you succeed in nothing better than animals. Now (as +the newspapers say) the late ingenious Mr. Seymour is dead, I would +recommend horses and greyhounds to you. I should think you capable of +a landscape or two with delicious bits of architecture. I have known +you execute the light of a torch or lanthorn so well, that if it +was called Schalken, a housekeeper at Hampton Court or Windsor, or +a Catherine at Strawberry Hill, would show it, and say it cost ten +thousand pounds. Nay, if I could believe that you would ever execute +any more designs I proposed to you, I would give you a hint for a +picture that struck me t'other day in Péréfixe's _Life of Henry IV_. +He says, the king was often seen lying upon a common straw-bed among +the soldiers, with a piece of brown bread in one hand, and a bit +of charcoal in t'other, to draw an encampment, or town that he was +besieging. If this is not character and a picture, I don't know what +is. + +I dined to-day at Garrick's: there were the Duke of Grafton, Lord and +Lady Rochford, Lady Holderness, the crooked Mostyn, and Dabreu the +Spanish minister; two regents, of which one is lord chamberlain, the +other groom of the stole; and the wife of a secretary of state. This +is being _sur un assez bon ton_ for a player! Don't you want to ask me +how I like him? Do want, and I will tell you.--I like her exceedingly; +her behaviour is all sense, and all sweetness too. I don't know how, +he does not improve so fast upon me: there is a great deal of parts, +and vivacity, and variety, but there is a great deal too of mimicry +and burlesque. I am very ungrateful, for he flatters me abundantly; +but unluckily I know it. I was accustomed to it enough when my father +was first minister: on his fall I lost it all at once: and since that, +I have lived with Mr. Chute, who is all vehemence; with Mr. Fox, who +is all disputation; with Sir Charles Williams, who has no time from +flattering himself; with Gray, who does not hate to find fault with +me; with Mr. Conway, who is all sincerity; and with you and Mr. Rigby, +who have always laughed at me in a good-natured way. I don't know how, +but I think I like all this as well--I beg his pardon, Mr. Raftor does +flatter me; but I should be a cormorant for praise, if I could swallow +it whole as he gives it me. + +Sir William Yonge, who has been extinct so long, is at last dead; and +the war, which began with such a flirt of vivacity, is I think gone to +sleep. General Braddock has not yet sent over to claim the surname of +Americanus. But why should I take pains to show you in how many ways I +know nothing?--Why; I can tell it you in one word--why, Mr. Cambridge +knows nothing!--I wish you good-night! + + + +To GEORGE, LORD LYTTELTON + +_Gray's Odes_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 25 _Aug_. 1757. + +MY LORD, + +It is a satisfaction one can't often receive, to show a thing of +great merit to a man of great taste. Your Lordship's approbation is +conclusive, and it stamps a disgrace on the age, who have not given +themselves the trouble to see any beauties in these _Odes_ of Mr. +Gray. They have cast their eyes over them, found them obscure, and +looked no further, yet perhaps no compositions ever had more sublime +beauties than are in each. I agree with your Lordship in preferring +the last upon the whole; the three first stanzas and half, down to +_agonizing King_, are in my opinion equal to anything in any language +I understand. Yet the three last of the first Ode please me very near +as much. The description of Shakespeare is worthy Shakespeare: the +account of Milton's blindness, though perhaps not strictly defensible, +is very majestic. The character of Dryden's poetry is as animated as +what it paints. I can even like the epithet _Orient_; as the last is +the empire of fancy and poesy, I would allow its livery to be erected +into a colour. I think _blue-eyed Pleasures_ is allowable: when Homer +gave eyes of what hue he pleased to his Queen-Goddesses, sure Mr. Gray +may tinge those of their handmaids. + +In answer to your Lordship's objection to _many-twinkling_, in that +beautiful epode, I will quote authority to which you will yield. As +Greek as the expression is, it struck Mrs. Garrick, and she says, on +that whole picture, that Mr. Gray is the only poet who ever understood +dancing. + +These faults I think I can defend, and can excuse others; even the +great obscurity of the latter, for I do not see it in the first; the +subject of it has been taken for music,--it is the Power and Progress +of Harmonious Poetry. I think his objection to prefixing a title to it +was wrong--that Mr. Cooke published an ode with such a title. If the +Louis the Great, whom Voltaire has discovered in Hungary, had not +disappeared from history himself, would not Louis Quatorze have +annihilated him? I was aware that the second would have darknesses, +and prevailed for the insertion of what notes there are, and would +have had more. Mr. Gray said, whatever wanted explanation did not +deserve it, but that sentence was never so far from being an axiom as +in the present case. Not to mention how he had shackled himself with +strophe, antistrophe, and epode (yet acquitting himself nobly), +the nature of prophecy forbade him naming his kings. To me they are +apparent enough--yet I am far from thinking either piece perfect, +though with what faults they have, I hold them in the first rank of +genius and poetry. The second strophe of the first Ode is inexcusable, +nor do I wonder your Lordship blames it; even when one does understand +it, perhaps the last line is too turgid. I am not fond of the +antistrophe that follows. In the second Ode he made some corrections +for the worse. _Brave Urion_ was originally _stern_: brave is insipid +and commonplace. In the third antistrophe, _leave me unblessed, +unpitied_, stood at first, _leave your despairing Caradoc_. But the +capital faults in my opinion are these--what punishment was it to +Edward I to hear that his grandson would conquer France? or is so +common an event as Edward III being deserted on his death-bed, worthy +of being made part of a curse that was to avenge a nation? I can't +cast my eye here, without crying out on those beautiful lines that +follow, _Fair smiles the morn_? Though the images are extremely +complicated, what painting in the whirlwind, likened to a lion lying +in ambush for his evening prey, _in grim repose_. Thirst and hunger +mocking Richard II appear to me too ludicrously like the devils in +_The Tempest_, that whisk away the banquet from the shipwrecked Dukes. +From thence to the conclusion of Queen Elizabeth's portrait, which he +has faithfully copied from Speed, in the passage where she humbled the +Polish Ambassador, I admire. I can even allow that image of Rapture +hovering like an ancient grotesque, though it strictly has little +meaning: but there I take my leave--the last stanza has no beauties +for me. I even think its obscurity fortunate, for the allusions to +Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, are not only weak, but the two last +returning again, after appearing so gloriously in the first Ode, and +with so much fainter colours, enervate the whole conclusion. + +Your Lordship sees that I am no enthusiast to Mr. Gray: his great +lustre has not dazzled me, as his obscurity seems to have blinded his +contemporaries. Indeed, I do not think that they ever admired him, +except in his Churchyard, though the Eton Ode was far its superior, +and is certainly not obscure. The Eton Ode is perfect: those of more +masterly execution have defects, yet not to admire them is total want +of taste. I have an aversion to tame poetry; at best, perhaps the art +is the sublimest of the _difficiles nugae_; to measure or rhyme prose +is trifling without being difficult. + + + +To GEORGE MONTAGU + +_At Lady Suffolk's_ + + +Arlington Street, 11 _Jan_. 1764. + +It is an age, I own, since I wrote to you; but except politics, +what was there to send you? and for politics, the present are too +contemptible to be recorded by anybody but journalists, gazetteers, +and such historians! The ordinary of Newgate, or Mr.----, who write +for their monthly half-crown, and who are indifferent whether Lord +Bute, Lord Melcombe, or Maclean is their hero, may swear they +find diamonds on dunghills; but you will excuse _me_, if I let our +correspondence lie dormant rather than deal in such trash. I am forced +to send Lord Hertford and Sir Horace Mann such garbage, because +they are out of England, and the sea softens and makes palatable any +potion, as it does claret; but unless I can divert _you_, I had rather +wait till we can laugh together; the best employment for friends, +who do not mean to pick one another's pockets, nor make a property of +either's frankness. Instead of politics, therefore, I shall amuse you +to-day with a fairy tale. + +I was desired to be at my Lady Suffolk's on New Year's morn, where I +found Lady Temple and others. On the toilet Miss Hotham spied a small +round box. She seized it with all the eagerness and curiosity of +eleven years. In it was wrapped up a heart-diamond ring, and a paper +in which, in a hand as small as Buckinger's, who used to write the +Lord's Prayer in the compass of a silver penny, were the following +lines: + + Sent by a sylph, unheard, unseen, + A new-year's gift from Mab our queen: + But tell it not, for if you do, + You will be pinch'd all black and blue. + Consider well, what a disgrace, + To show abroad your mottled face: + Then seal your lips, put on the ring, + And sometimes think of Ob. the King. + +You will easily guess that Lady Temple was the poetess, and that we +were delighted with the genteelness of the thought and execution. The +child, you may imagine, was less transported with the poetry than the +present. Her attention, however, was hurried backwards and forwards +from the ring to a new coat, that she had been trying on when sent for +down; impatient to revisit her coat, and to show the ring to her maid, +she whisked upstairs; when she came down again, she found a letter +sealed, and lying on the floor--new exclamations! Lady Suffolk bade +her open it: here it is: + + Your tongue, too nimble for your sense, + Is guilty of a high offence; + Hath introduced unkind debate, + And topsy-turvy turn'd our state. + In gallantry I sent the ring, + The token of a love-sick king: + Under fair Mab's auspicious name + From me the trifling present came. + You blabb'd the news in Suffolk's ear; + The tattling zephyrs brought it here, + As Mab was indolently laid + Under a poppy's spreading shade. + The jealous queen started in rage; + She kick'd her crown, and beat her page: + 'Bring me my magic wand ', she cries; + 'Under that primrose, there it lies; + I'll change the silly, saucy chit, + Into a flea, a louse, a nit, + A worm, a grasshopper, a rat, + An owl, a monkey, hedgehog, bat. + But hold, why not by fairy art + Transform the wretch, into--? + Ixion once a cloud embraced, + By Jove and jealousy well placed; + What sport to see proud Oberon stare + And flirt it with a--!' + Then thrice she stamped the trembling ground, + And thrice she waved her wand around; + When I, endow'd with greater skill, + And less inclined to do you ill, + Mutter'd some words, withheld her arm, + And kindly stopp'd the unfinish'd charm. + But though not changed to owl or bat, + Or something more indelicate; + Yet, as your tongue has run too fast, + Your boasted beauty must not last. + No more shall frolic Cupid lie + In ambuscade in either eye, + From thence to aim his keenest dart + To captivate each youthful heart: + No more shall envious misses pine + At charms now flown, that once were thine: + No more, since you so ill behave, + Shall injured Oberon be your slave. + +There is one word which I could wish had not been there, though it is +prettily excused afterwards. The next day my Lady Suffolk desired I +would write her a patent for appointing Lady Temple poet laureate to +the fairies. I was excessively out of order with a pain in my stomach, +which I had had for ten days, and was fitter to write verses like +a poet laureate, than for making one; however, I was going home to +dinner alone, and at six I sent her some lines, which you ought to +have seen how sick I was, to excuse; but first, I must tell you my +tale methodically. The next morning by nine o'clock Miss Hotham (she +must forgive me twenty years hence for saying she was eleven, for I +recollect she is but ten) arrived at Lady Temple's, her face and neck +all spotted with saffron, and limping. 'Oh, madam!' said she, 'I am +undone for ever if you do not assist me!' 'Lord, child,' cried my Lady +Temple, 'what is the matter?' thinking she had hurt herself, or lost +the ring, and that she was stolen out before her aunt was up. 'Oh, +madam,' said the girl, 'nobody but you can assist me!' My Lady Temple +protests the child acted her part so well as to deceive her. 'What can +I do for you?' 'Dear madam, take this load from my back; nobody but +you can.' Lady Temple turned her round, and upon her back was tied a +child's waggon. In it were three tiny purses of blue velvet; in one of +them a silver cup, in another a crown of laurel, and in the third +four new silver pennies, with the patent, signed at top, 'Oberon +Imperator'; and two sheets of warrants strung together with blue silk +according to form; and at top an office seal of wax and a chaplet of +cut paper on it. The warrants were these: + + From the Royal Mews: + A waggon with the draught horses, delivered by + command without fee. + + From the Lord Chamberlain's Office: + A warrant with the royal sign manual, delivered + by command without fee, being first entered + in the office books. + + From the Lord Steward's Office: + A butt of sack, delivered without fee or gratuity, + with an order for returning the cask for the + use of the office, by command. + + From the Great Wardrobe: + Three velvet bags, delivered without fee, by + command. + + From the Treasurer of the Household's Office: + A year's salary paid free from land-tax, poundage, + or any other deduction whatever, by command. + + From the Jewel Office: + A silver butt, a silver cup, a wreath of bays, by + command without fee. + +Then came the Patent: + + By these presents be it known, + To all who bend before our throne, + Fays and fairies, elves and sprites, + Beauteous dames and gallant knights, + That we, Oberon the grand, + Emperor of fairy-land, + King of moonshine, prince of dreams, + Lord of Aganippe's streams, + Baron of the dimpled isles + That lie in pretty maidens' smiles, + Arch-treasurer of all the graces + Dispersed through fifty lovely faces, + Sovereign of the slipper's order, + With all the rites thereon that border, + Defender of the sylphic faith, + Declare--and thus your monarch saith: + Whereas there is a noble dame, + Whom mortals Countess Temple name, + To whom ourself did erst impart + The choicest secrets of our art, + Taught her to tune the harmonious line + To our own melody divine, + Taught her the graceful negligence, + Which, scorning art and veiling sense, + Achieves that conquest o'er the heart + Sense seldom gains, and never art; + This lady, 'tis our royal will, + Our laureate's vacant seat should fill: + A chaplet of immortal bays + Shall crown her brow and guard her lays; + Of nectar sack an acorn cup + Be at her board each year filled up; + And as each quarter feast comes round + A silver penny shall be found + Within the compass of her shoe-- + And so we bid you all adieu! + +Given at our palace of Cowslip Castle, the shortest night of the year. + +OBERON. + +And underneath, + +HOTHAMINA. + +How shall I tell you the greatest curiosity of the story? The whole +plan and execution of the second act was laid and adjusted by my +Lady Suffolk herself and Will. Chetwynd, Master of the Mint, Lord +Bolingbroke's Oroonoho-Chetwynd; he fourscore, she past seventy-six; +and what is more, much worse than I was, for, added to her deafness, +she has been confined these three weeks with the gout in her eyes, and +was actually then in misery, and had been without sleep. What +spirits, and cleverness, and imagination, at that age, and under those +afflicting circumstances! You reconnoitre her old court knowledge, how +charmingly she has applied it! Do you wonder I pass so many hours and +evenings with her? Alas! I had like to have lost her this morning! +They had poulticed her feet to draw the gout downwards, and began to +succeed yesterday, but to-day it flew up into her head, and she was +almost in convulsions with the agony, and screamed dreadfully; proof +enough how ill she was, for her patience and good breeding make her +for ever sink and conceal what she feels. This evening the gout has +been driven back to her foot, and I trust she is out of danger. Her +loss would be irreparable to me at Twickenham, where she is by far the +most rational and agreeable company I have.... + + + +To LADY HERVEY + +_A quiet life_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 11 _June_, 1765. + +I am almost as much ashamed, Madam, to plead the true cause of my +faults towards your ladyship, as to have been guilty of any neglect. +It is scandalous, at my age, to have been carried backwards and +forwards to balls and suppers and parties by very young people, as +I was all last week. My resolutions of growing old and staid are +admirable: I wake with a sober plan, and intend to pass the day with +my friends--then comes the Duke of Richmond, and hurries me down to +Whitehall to dinner--then the Duchess of Grafton sends for me to too +in Upper Grosvenor Street--before I can get thither, I am begged +to step to Kensington, to give Mrs. Anne Pitt my opinion about +a bow-window--after the loo, I am to march back to Whitehall to +supper--and after that, am to walk with Miss Pelham on the terrace +till two in the morning, because it is moonlight and her chair is not +come. All this does not help my morning laziness; and by the time I +have breakfasted, fed my birds and my squirrels, and dressed, there is +an auction ready. In short, Madam, this was my life last week, and +is I think every week, with the addition of forty episodes.--Yet, +ridiculous as it is, I send it to your ladyship, because I had +rather you should laugh at me than be angry. I cannot offend you in +intention, but I fear my sins of omission are equal to a good many +Christian's. Pray forgive me. I really will begin to be between forty +and fifty by the time I am fourscore: and I truly believe I shall +bring my resolutions within compass; for I have not chalked out any +particular business that will take me above forty years more; so that, +if I do not get acquainted with the grandchildren of all the present +age, I shall lead a quiet sober life yet before I die.... + + + +To THE REV. WILLIAM COLE + +_Gray's death_ + + +Paris, 12 _Aug_. 1771. + +DEAR SIR, + +I am excessively shocked at reading in the papers that Mr. Gray is +dead! I wish to God you may be able to tell me it is not true! Yet +in this painful uncertainty I must rest some days! None of my +acquaintance are in London. I do not know to whom to apply but to you. +Alas! I fear in vain! Too many circumstances speak it true! the detail +is exact;--a second paper arrived by the same post, and does not +contradict it--and what is worse, I saw him but four or five +days before I came hither; he had been to Kensington for the air, +complained of gout flying about him, of sensations of it in his +stomach, and indeed, thought him changed, and that he looked +ill--still I had not the least idea of his being in danger.--I started +up from my chair, when I read the paragraph--a cannon-ball could +not have surprised me more! The shock but ceased, to give way to my +concern; and my hopes are too ill founded to mitigate it. If nobody +has the charity to write to me, my anxiety must continue till the end +of the month, for I shall set out on my return on the 26th; and unless +you receive this time enough for your answer to leave London on the +20th, in the evening, I cannot meet it, till I find it in Arlington +Street, whither I beg you to direct it. + +If the event is but too true, pray add to this melancholy service, +that of telling me any circumstances you know of his death. Our long, +very long friendship, and his genius, must endear to me everything +that relates to him. What writings has he left? Who are his executors? +I should earnestly wish, if he has destined anything to the public, +to print it at my press--it would do me honour, and would give me an +opportunity of expressing what I feel for him. Methinks, as we grow +old, our only business here is to adorn the graves of our friends, or +to dig our own. + + + +To THE REV. WILLIAM MASON + +_The quarrel with Gray_ + + +2 _March_, 1773. + +What shall I say? How shall I thank you for the kind manner in which +you submit your papers to my correction? But if you are friendly, I +must be just. I am so far from being dissatisfied, that I must beg to +shorten your pen, and in that respect only would I wish, with regard +to myself, to alter your text. I am conscious that in the beginning of +the differences between Gray and me, the fault was mine. I was +young, too fond of my own diversions; nay, I do not doubt, too much +intoxicated by indulgence, vanity, and the insolence of my situation, +as a prime minister's son, not to have been inattentive to the +feelings of one, I blush to say it, that I knew was obliged to me; +of one, whom presumption and folly made me deem not very superior +in parts, though I have since felt my infinite inferiority to him. +I treated him insolently. He loved me, and I did not think he did. I +reproached him with the difference between us, when he acted from the +conviction of knowing that he was my superior. I often disregarded +his wish of seeing places, which I would not quit my own amusements to +visit, though I offered to send him thither without me. Forgive me, +if I say that his temper was not conciliating, at the same time that I +will confess to you that he acted a most friendly part, had I had the +sense to take advantage of it. He freely told me my faults. I declared +I did not wish to hear them, nor would correct them. You will not +wonder, that with the dignity of his spirit, and the obstinate +carelessness of mine, the breach must have widened till we became +incompatible. + +After this confession, I fear you will think I fall short in the +words I wish to have substituted for some of yours. If you think them +inadequate to the state of the case, as I own they are, preserve this +letter, and let some future Sir John Dalrymple produce it to load my +memory; but I own I do not desire that any ambiguity should aid his +invention to forge an account for me. If you have no objection, I +would propose your narrative should run thus ... and contain no more, +till a proper time shall come for publishing the truth, as I have +stated it to you. While I am living, it is not pleasant to see my +private disagreements discussed in magazines and newspapers. + + + +To THE COUNTESS OF UPPER OSSORY + +_Fashionable intelligence_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 27 _March_, 1773. + +What play makes you laugh very much, and yet is a very wretched +comedy? Dr. Goldsmith's _She Stoops to Conquer_. Stoops indeed!--so +she does, that is the Muse; she is draggled up to the knees, and has +trudged, I believe, from Southwark fair. The whole view of the +piece is low humour, and no humour is in it. All the merit is in the +situations, which are comic; the heroine has no more modesty than Lady +Bridget, and the author's wit is as much _manqué_ as the lady's; but +some of the characters are well acted, and Woodward speaks a poor +prologue, written by Garrick, admirably. + +You perceive, Madam, that I have boldly sallied to a play; but the +heat of the house and of this sultry March half killed me, yet I limp +about as if I was young and pleased. From the play I travelled +to Upper Grosvenor Street, to Lady Edgecumbe's, supped at Lady +Hertford's. That Maccaroni rake, Lady Powis, who is just come to her +estate and spending it, calling in with news of a fire in the Strand +at past one in the morning, Lady Hertford, Lady Powis, Mrs. Howe, and +I, set out to see it, and were within an inch of seeing the Adelphi +buildings burnt to the ground. I was to have gone to the Oratorio +next night for Miss Linley's sake, but, being engaged to the French +ambassador's ball afterwards, I thought I was not quite Hercules +enough for so many labours, and declined the former. + +The house was all arbours and bowers, but rather more approaching to +Calcutta, where so many English were stewed to death; for as the Queen +would not dis-Maid of Honour herself of Miss Vernon till after the +Oratorio, the ball-room was not opened till she arrived, and we were +penned together in the little hall till we could not breathe. The +quadrilles were very pretty: Mrs. Darner, Lady Sefton, Lady Melbourne, +and the Princess Czartoriski in blue satin, with blond and _collets +montés à la reine Elizabeth_; Lord Robert Spencer, Mr. Fitzpatrick, +Lord Carlisle, and I forget whom, in like dresses with red sashes, +_derouge_, black hats with diamond loops and a few feathers before, +began; then the Henri Quatres and Quatresses, who were Lady Craven, +Miss Minching, the two Misses Vernons, Mr. Storer, Mr. Hanger, the Duc +de Lauzun, and George Damer, all in white, the men with black hats and +white feathers napping behind, danced another quadrille, and then both +quadrilles joined; after which Mrs. Hobart, all in gauze and spangles, +like a spangle-pudding, a Miss I forget, Lord Edward Bentinck, and +a Mr. Corbet, danced a _pas-de-quatre_, in which Mrs. Hobart indeed +performed admirably. + +The fine Mrs. Matthews in white, trimmed down all the neck and +petticoat with scarlet cock's feathers, appeared like a new macaw +brought from Otaheite; but of all the pretty creatures next to the +Carrara (who was not there) was Mrs. Bunbury; so that with her I was +in love till one o'clock, and then came home to bed. The Duchess of +Queensberry had a round gown of rose-colour, with a man's cape, which, +with the stomacher and sleeves, was all trimmed with mother-of-pearl +earrings. This Pindaric gown was a sudden thought to surprise the +Duke, with whom she had dined in another dress. Did you ever see so +good a joke?... + +Lord Chesterfield was dead before my last letter that foretold his +death set out. Alas! I shall have no more of his lively sayings, +Madam, to send you. Oh yes! I have his last: being told of the quarrel +in Spitalfields, and even that Mrs. F[itzroy] struck Miss P[oole], he +said, I always thought Mrs. F. a _striking_ beauty.' + +Thus, having given away all his wit to the last farthing, he has left +nothing but some poor witticisms in his will, tying up his heir by +forfeitures and jokes from going to Newmarket. + +I wrote this letter at Strawberry, and find nothing new in town to add +but a cold north-east that has brought back all our fires and furs. +Pray tell me a little of your Ladyship's futurity, and whether you +will deign to pass through London. + + + +TO THE REV. WILLIAM COLE + +_Antiquaries and authors_ + + +Arlington Street, 27 _April_, 1773. + +... Mr. Gough wants to be introduced to me! Indeed! I would see +him;... but he is so dull that he would only be troublesome--and +besides, you know I shun authors, and would never have been one +myself, if it obliged me to keep such bad company. They are always +in earnest, and think their profession serious, and will dwell upon +trifles, and reverence learning. I laugh at all these things, and +write only to laugh at them, and divert myself. None of us are authors +of any consequence; and it is the most ridiculous of all vanities to +be vain of being _mediocre_. A page in a great author humbles me +to the dust; and the conversation of those that are not superior +to myself, reminds me of what will be thought of myself. I blush to +flatter them, or to be flattered by them, and should dread letters +being published some time or other, in which they would relate our +interviews, and we should appear like those puny conceited witlings +in Shenstone's and Hughes's _Correspondence_, who give themselves airs +from being in possession of the soil of Parnassus for the time being; +as peers are proud, because they enjoy the estates of great men who +went before them. Mr. Gough is very welcome to see Strawberry Hill; or +I would help him to any scraps in my possession, that would assist +his publications; though he is one of those industrious who are +only re-burying the dead--but I cannot be acquainted with him. It is +contrary to my system and my humour; and besides, I know nothing +of barrows, and Danish intrenchments, and Saxon barbarisms, and +Phoenician characters--in short, I know nothing of those ages that +knew nothing--how then should I be of use to modern litterati? All the +Scotch metaphysicians have sent me their works. I did not read one of +them, because I do not understand what is not understood by those that +write about it; and I did not get acquainted with one of the writers. +I should like to be acquainted with Mr. Anstey, even though he wrote +Lord Buckhorse, or with the author of the _Heroic Epistle_--I have no +thirst to know the rest of my contemporaries, from the absurd bombast +of Dr. Johnson down to the silly Dr. Goldsmith; though the latter +changeling has had bright gleams of parts, and though the former had +sense, till he changed it for words, and sold it for a pension. Don't +think me scornful. Recollect that I have seen Pope, and lived with +Gray. Adieu! + + + +TO THE MISS BERRYS + +_Their first meeting_ + + +Tuesday night, 8 o'clock, 17 _Sept._ 1793. + +My beloved spouses, + +Whom I love better than Solomon loved his one spouse--or his one +thousand. I lament that the summer is over; not because of its +iniquity, but because you two made it so delightful to me, that six +weeks of gout could not sour it. Pray take care of yourselves--not +for your own sakes, but for mine; for, as I have just had my quota of +gout, I may, possibly, expect to see another summer; and, as you allow +that I do know my own, and when I wish for anything and have it, am +entirely satisfied, you may depend upon it that I shall be as happy +with a third summer, if I reach it, as I have been with the two last. + +Consider, that I have been threescore years and ten looking for a +society that I perfectly like; and at last there dropped out of the +clouds into Lady Herries's room two young gentlewomen, who I so little +thought were sent thither on purpose for me, that when I was told they +were the charming Miss Berrys, I would not even go to the side of the +chamber where they sat. But, as Fortune never throws anything at one's +head without hitting one, I soon found out that the charming Berrys +were precisely _ce qu'il me fallait_; and that though young enough to +be my great-grand-daughters, lovely enough to turn the heads of all +our youths, and sensible enough, if said youths have any brains, to +set all their heads to rights again. Yes, sweet damsels, I have found +that you can bear to pass half your time with an antediluvian, without +discovering any _ennui_ or disgust; though his greatest merit towards +you is, that he is not one of those old fools who fancy they are in +love in their dotage. I have no such vagary; though I am not +sorry that some folks think I am so absurd, since it frets their +selfishness. + + + + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH + +1728-1774 + + + +TO HIS MOTHER + +_At Cork_ + + +[c. 1751.] + +My dear mother, + +If you will sit down and calmly listen to what I say, you shall be +fully resolved in every one of those many questions you have asked me. +I went to Cork and converted my horse, which you prize so much higher +than Fiddleback, into cash, took my passage in a ship bound for +America, and, at the same time, paid the captain for my freight and +all the other expenses of my voyage. But it so happened that the wind +did not answer for three weeks; and you know, mother, that I could not +command the elements. My misfortune was, that, when the wind served, I +happened to be with a party in the country, and my friend the captain +never inquired after me, but set sail with as much indifference as if +I had been on board. The remainder of my time I employed in the city +and its environs, viewing everything curious; and you know no one can +starve while he has money in his pocket. + +Reduced, however, to my last two guineas, I began to think of my +dear mother and friends whom I had left behind me, and so bought +that generous beast Fiddleback, and made adieu to Cork with only five +shillings in my pocket. This, to be sure, was but a scanty allowance +for man and horse towards a journey of above a hundred miles; but I +did not despair, for I knew I must find friends on the road. + +I recollected particularly an old and faithful acquaintance I made at +college, who had often and earnestly pressed me to spend a summer +with him, and he lived but eight miles from Cork. This circumstance +of vicinity he would expatiate on to me with peculiar emphasis. 'We +shall,' says he, 'enjoy the delights of both city and country, and you +shall command my stable and my purse.' + +However, upon the way, I met a poor woman all in tears, who told me +her husband had been arrested for a debt he was not able to pay, and +that his eight children must now starve, bereaved as they were of his +industry, which had been their only support. I thought myself at home, +being not far from my good friend's house, and therefore parted with +a moiety of all my store; and pray, mother, ought I not to have given +her the other half-crown, for what she got would be of little use to +her? However, I soon arrived at the mansion of my affectionate friend, +guarded by the vigilance of a huge mastiff, who flew at me, and +would have torn me to pieces but for the assistance of a woman, whose +countenance was not less grim than that of the dog; yet she with great +humanity relieved me from the jaws of this Cerberus, and was prevailed +on to carry up my name to her master. + +Without suffering me to wait long, my old friend, who was then +recovering from a severe fit of sickness, came down in his nightcap, +nightgown, and slippers, and embraced me with the most cordial +welcome, showed me in, and after giving me a history of his +indisposition, assured me that he considered himself peculiarly +fortunate in having under his roof the man he most loved on earth, and +whose stay with him must, above all things, contribute to his perfect +recovery. I now repented sorely I had not given the poor woman the +other half-crown, as I thought all my bills of humanity would be +punctually answered by this worthy man. I revealed to him my whole +soul; I opened to him all my distresses; and freely owned that I +had but one half-crown in my pocket; but that now, like a ship after +weathering out the storm, I considered myself secure in a safe and +hospitable harbour. He made no answer, but walked about the room, +rubbing his hands as one in deep study. This I imputed to the +sympathetic feelings of a tender heart, which increased my esteem for +him, and as that increased, I gave the most favourable interpretation +to his silence. I construed it into delicacy of sentiment, as if he +dreaded to wound my pride by expressing his commiseration in words, +leaving his generous conduct to speak for itself. + +It now approached six o'clock in the evening; and as I had eaten no +breakfast, and as my spirits were raised, my appetite for dinner grew +uncommonly keen. At length the old woman came into the room with two +plates, one spoon, and a dirty cloth which she laid upon the table. +This appearance, without increasing my spirits, did not diminish my +appetite. My protectress soon returned with a small bowl of sago, a +small porringer of sour milk, a loaf of stale brown bread, and +the heel of an old cheese all over crawling with mites. My friend +apologized that his illness obliged him to live on slops, and that +better fare was not in the house; observing, at the same time, that +a milk diet was certainly the most healthful; and at eight o'clock he +again recommended a regular life, declaring that for his part he would +lie down with the lamb and rise with the lark. My hunger was at this +time so exceedingly sharp that I wished for another slice of the loaf, +but was obliged to go to bed without even that refreshment. + +This lenten entertainment I had received made me resolve to depart as +soon as possible; accordingly, next morning, when I spoke of going, +he did not oppose my resolution; he rather commended my design, adding +some very sage counsel upon the occasion. 'To be sure,' said he, 'the +longer you stay away from your mother, the more you will grieve her +and your other friends; and possibly they are already afflicted at +hearing of this foolish expedition you have made.' Notwithstanding all +this, and without any hope of softening such a sordid heart, I again +renewed the tale of my distress, and asking 'how he thought I could +travel above a hundred miles upon one half-crown?' I begged to borrow +a single guinea, which I assured him should be repaid with thanks. +'And you know, sir,' said I, 'it is no more than I have often done for +you.' To which he firmly answered, 'Why, look you, Mr. Goldsmith, that +is neither here nor there. I have paid you all you ever lent me, and +this sickness of mine has left me bare of cash. But I have bethought +myself of a conveyance for you; sell your horse, and I will furnish +you with a much better one to ride on.' I readily grasped at his +proposal, and begged to see the nag; on which he led me to his +bedchamber, and from under the bed he pulled out a stout oak stick. +'Here he is,' said he; 'take this in your hand, and it will carry you +to your mother's with more safety than such a horse as you ride.' I +was in doubt, when I got it into my hand, whether I should not in the +first place apply it to his pate; but a rap at the street-door +made the wretch fly to it, and when I returned to the parlour, +he introduced me, as if nothing of the kind had happened, to the +gentleman who entered, as Mr. Goldsmith, his most ingenious and worthy +friend, of whom he had so often heard him speak with rapture. I could +scarcely compose myself; and must have betrayed indignation in my mien +to the stranger, who was a counsellor-at-law in the neighbourhood, a +man of engaging aspect and polite address. + +After spending an hour, he asked my friend and me to dine with him at +his house. This I declined at first, as I wished to have no further +communication with my hospitable friend; but at the solicitation of +both I at last consented, determined as I was by two motives; one, +that I was prejudiced in favour of the looks and manner of the +counsellor; and the other, that I stood in need of a comfortable +dinner. And there, indeed, I found everything that I could wish, +abundance without profusion, and elegance without affectation. In the +evening, when my old friend, who had eaten very plentifully at his +neighbour's table, but talked again of lying down with the lamb, made +a motion to me for retiring, our generous host requested I should take +a bed with him, upon which I plainly told my old friend that he might +go home and take care of the horse he had given me, but that I should +never re-enter his doors. He went away with a laugh, leaving me to +add this to the other little things the counsellor already knew of his +plausible neighbour. + +And now, my dear mother, I found sufficient to reconcile me to all +my follies; for here I spent three whole days. The counsellor had +two sweet girls to his daughters, who played enchantingly on the +harpsichord; and yet it was but a melancholy pleasure I felt the first +time I heard them: for that being the first time also that either of +them had touched the instrument since their mother's death, I saw +the tears in silence trickle down their father's cheeks. I every day +endeavoured to go away, but every day was pressed and obliged to stay. +On my going, the counsellor offered me his purse, with a horse and +servant to convey me home; but the latter I declined, and only took a +guinea to bear my necessary expenses on the road. + + + +TO ROBERT BRYANTON + +_In Scotland_ + + +Edinburgh, 26 _Sept._ 1753 + +MY DEAR BOB, + +How many good excuses (and you know I was ever good at an excuse) +might I call up to vindicate my past shameful silence! I might tell +how I wrote a long letter on my first coming hither, and seem vastly +angry at my not receiving an answer; I might allege that business +(with business you know I was always pestered) had never given me +time to finger a pen--but I suppress those and twenty more equally +plausible, and as easily invented, since they might be attended with +a slight inconvenience of being known to be lies. Let me then speak +truth. An hereditary indolence (I have it from the mother's side) has +hitherto prevented my writing to you, and still prevents my writing +at least twenty-five letters more, due to my friends in Ireland. No +turnspit dog gets up into his wheel with more reluctance than I sit +down to write; yet no dog ever loved the roast meat he turns better +than I do him I now address. Yet what shall I say now I'm entered? +Shall I tire you with a description of this unfruitful country; +where I must lead you over their hills all brown with heath, or their +valleys scarce able to feed a rabbit? Man alone seems to be the only +creature who has arrived to the natural size in this poor soil. Every +part of the country presents the same dismal landscape. No grove, nor +brook, lend their music to cheer the stranger, or make the inhabitants +forget their poverty. Yet with all these disadvantages, enough to +call him down to humility, the Scotchman is one of the proudest things +alive. The poor have pride ever ready to relieve them. If mankind +should happen to despise them, they are masters of their own +admiration; and _that_ they can plentifully bestow upon themselves. + +From their pride and poverty, as I take it, results one advantage this +country enjoys; namely, the gentlemen here are much better bred than +amongst us. No such characters here as our fox-hunters; and they have +expressed great surprise when I informed them that some men in Ireland +of one thousand pounds a-year spend their whole lives in running after +a hare, and drinking to be drunk; and truly, if such a being, equipped +in his hunting dress, came among a circle of Scotch gentry, they would +behold him with the same astonishment that a countryman would King +George on horseback. + +The men here have generally high cheek-bones, and are lean and +swarthy, fond of action, dancing in particular. Though now I mention +dancing, let me say something of their balls, which are very frequent +here. When a stranger enters the dancing-hall, he sees one end of +the room taken up with the ladies, who sit dismally in a group by +themselves; on the other end stand their pensive partners that are to +be; but no more intercourse between the sexes than there is between +two countries at war. The ladies indeed may ogle, and the gentlemen +sigh; but an embargo is laid on any closer commerce. At length, to +interrupt hostilities, the lady directress, or intendant, or what you +will, pitches on a gentleman and lady to walk a minuet; which they +perform with a formality that approaches to despondence. After five +or six couple have thus walked the gauntlet, all stand up to country +dances; each gentleman furnished with a partner from the aforesaid +lady directress; so they dance much and say nothing, and thus +concludes our assembly. I told a Scotch gentleman that such profound +silence resembled the ancient procession of the Roman matrons in +honour of Ceres; and the Scotch gentleman told me (and, faith, I +believe he was right) that I was a very great pedant for my pains. + +Now I am come to the ladies; and to show that I love Scotland, and +everything that belongs to so charming a country, I insist on it, and +will give him leave to break my head that denies it--that the Scotch +ladies are ten thousand times handsomer and finer than the Irish. To +be sure, now, I see your sisters Betty and Peggy vastly surprised at +my partiality, but tell them flatly, I don't value them, or their fine +skins, or eyes, or good sense, or--, a potato; for I say it, and will +maintain it, and as a convincing proof (I'm in a very great passion) +of what I assert, the Scotch ladies say it themselves. But to be less +serious; where will you find a language so pretty become a pretty +mouth as the broad Scotch? and the women here speak it in its highest +purity; for instance, teach one of their young ladies to pronounce +'Whoar wull I gong?' with a becoming wideness of mouth, and I'll lay +my life they will wound every hearer. + +We have no such character here as a coquet, but alas! how many envious +prudes! Some days ago I walked into my Lord Kilcoubry's (don't be +surprised, my lord is but a glover), when the Duchess of Hamilton +(that fair who sacrificed her beauty to ambition, and her inward peace +to a title and gilt equipage) passed by in her chariot; her battered +husband, or more properly the guardian of her charms, sat by her side. +Straight envy began, in the shape of no less than three ladies who sat +with me, to find faults in her faultless form.--'For my part,' says +the first, 'I think what I always thought, that the Duchess has too +much red in her complexion.' 'Madam, I'm of your opinion,' says the +second; 'I think her face has a palish cast too much on the delicate +order.' 'And let me tell you,' adds the third lady, whose mouth was +puckered up to the size of an issue, 'that the Duchess has fine lips, +but she wants a mouth.'--At this every lady drew up her lips as if +going to pronounce the letter P. + +But how ill, my Bob, does it become me to ridicule women with whom +I have scarce any correspondence! There are, 'tis certain, handsome +women here; and 'tis as certain there are handsome men to keep them +company. An ugly and a poor man is society for himself; and such +society the world lets me enjoy in great abundance. Fortune has given +you circumstances, and nature a person to look charming in the eyes of +the fair world. Nor do I envy my dear Bob such blessings, while I may +sit down and laugh at the world and at myself, the most ridiculous +object in it. But I begin to grow splenetic, and perhaps the fit may +continue till I receive an answer to this. I know you can't send news +from Ballymahon, but such as it is, send it all; everything you write +will be agreeable and entertaining to me. + +Has George Conway put up a sign yet; or John Finecly left off drinking +drams; or Tom Allen got a new wig? But I leave to your own choice what +to write. While Oliver Goldsmith lives, know you have a friend. + +PS.--Give my sincere respects (not compliments, do you mind) to your +agreeable family, and give my service to my mother, if you see her; +for, as you express it in Ireland, I have a sneaking kindness for her +still. + +Direct to me,--Student in Physic, in Edinburgh. + + + +TO HIS UNCLE CONTARINE + +_In Holland_, + + +Leyden, _April_ or _May, 1754_. + +DEAR SIR, + +I suppose by this time I am accused of either neglect or ingratitude, +and my silence imputed to my usual slowness of writing. But believe +me, Sir, when I say, that till now I had not an opportunity of sitting +down with that ease of mind which writing required. You may see by the +top of the letter that I am at Leyden; but of my journey hither you +must be informed. Some time after the receipt of your last, I embarked +for Bordeaux, on board a Scotch ship called the _St. Andrews_, Capt. +John Wall, master. The ship made a tolerable appearance, and as +another inducement, I was let to know that six agreeable passengers +were to be my company. Well, we were but two days at sea when a storm +drove us into a city of England called Newcastle-upon-Tyne. We all +went ashore to refresh us after the fatigue of our voyage. Seven men +and I were one day on shore, and on the following evening as we were +all very merry, the room door bursts open, enters a sergeant and +twelve grenadiers with their bayonets screwed, and puts us all under +the King's arrest. It seems my company were Scotchmen in the French +service, and had been in Scotland to enlist soldiers for the French +army. I endeavoured all I could to prove my innocence; however, I +remained in prison with the rest a fortnight, and with difficulty got +off even then. Dear Sir, keep this all a secret, or at least say it +was for debt; for if it were once known at the University, I should +hardly get a degree. But hear how Providence interposed in my favour; +the ship was gone on to Bordeaux before I got from prison, and was +wrecked at the mouth of the Garonne, and every one of the crew were +drowned. It happened the last great storm. There was a ship at that +time ready for Holland. I embarked, and in nine days, thank my God, I +arrived safe at Rotterdam; whence I travelled by land to Leyden; and +whence I now write. + +You may expect some account of this country, and though I am not well +qualified for such an undertaking, yet shall I endeavour to satisfy +some part of your expectations. Nothing surprised me more than the +books every day published, descriptive of the manners of this country. +Any young man who takes it into his head to publish his travels, +visits the countries he intends to describe; passes through them with +as much inattention as his _valet de chambre_; and consequently not +having a fund himself to fill a volume, he applies to those who wrote +before him, and gives us the manners of a country, not as he must have +seen them, but such as they might have been fifty years before. The +modern Dutchman is quite a different creature from him of former +times; he in everything imitates a Frenchman but in his easy +disengaged air, which is the result of keeping polite company. +The Dutchman is vastly ceremonious, and is perhaps exactly what a +Frenchman might have been in the reign of Louis XIV. Such are the +better-bred. But the downright Hollander is one of the oddest figures +in nature. Upon a head of lank hair he wears a half-cocked narrow hat +laced with black ribbon: no coat, but seven waistcoats, and nine pairs +of breeches; so that his hips reach almost up to his armpits. This +well-clothed vegetable is now fit to see company, or make love. But +what a pleasing creature is the object of his appetite? Why, she +wears a large fur cap with a deal of Flanders lace: for every pair of +breeches he carries, she puts on two petticoats. + +A Dutch lady burns nothing about her phlegmatic admirer but his +tobacco. You must know, Sir, every woman carries in her hand a +stove with coals in it, which, when she sits, she snugs under her +petticoats; and at this chimney dozing Strephon lights his pipe. I +take it that this continual smoking is what gives the man the ruddy +healthful complexion he generally wears, by draining his superfluous +moisture, while the woman, deprived of this amusement, overflows with +such viscidities as tint the complexion, and give that paleness of +visage which low fenny grounds and moist air conspire to cause. A +Dutch woman and Scotch will well bear an opposition. + +The one is pale and fat, the other lean and ruddy: the one walks as if +she were straddling after a go-cart, and the other takes too masculine +a stride. I shall not endeavour to deprive either country of its share +of beauty; but must say, that of all objects on this earth, an English +farmer's daughter is most charming. Every woman there is a complete +beauty, while the higher class of women want many of the requisites to +make them even tolerable. Their pleasures here are very dull, though +very various. You may smoke, you may doze; you may go to the +Italian comedy, as good an amusement as either of the former. This +entertainment always brings in Harlequin, who is generally a magician, +and in consequence of his diabolical art performs a thousand tricks on +the rest of the persons of the drama, who are all fools. I have seen +the pit in a roar of laughter at this humour, when with his sword he +touches the glass from which another was drinking. 'Twas not his face +they laughed at, for that was masked. They must have seen something +vastly queer in the wooden sword, that neither I, nor you, Sir, were +you there, could see. + +In winter, when their canals are frozen, every house is forsaken, and +all people are on the ice; sleds, drawn by horses, and skating, are at +that time the reigning amusements. They have boats here that slide +on the ice, and are driven by the winds. When they spread all their +sails, they go more than a mile and a half a minute, and their motion +is so rapid the eye can scarcely accompany them. Their ordinary manner +of travelling is very cheap and very convenient: they sail in covered +boats drawn by horses; and in these you are sure to meet people of all +nations. Here the Dutch slumber, the French chatter, and the English +play at cards. Any man who likes company may have them to his taste. +For my part I generally detached myself from all society, and was +wholly taken up in observing the face of the country. Nothing can +equal its beauty; wherever I turn my eye, fine houses, elegant +gardens, statues, grottos, vistas, presented themselves; but when you +enter their towns you are charmed beyond description. No misery is to +be seen here; every one is usefully employed. + +Scotland and this country bear the highest contrast. There hills and +rocks intercept every prospect; here 'tis all a continued plain. There +you might see a well-dressed duchess issuing from a dirty close; and +here a dirty Dutchman inhabiting a palace. The Scotch may be compared +to a tulip planted in dung; but I never see a Dutchman in his own +house, but I think of a magnificent Egyptian temple dedicated to an +ox. Physic is by no means here taught so well as in Edinburgh; and +in all Leyden there are but four British students, owing to all +necessaries being so extremely dear, and the professors so very lazy +(the chemical professor excepted), that we don't much care to come +hither. I am not certain how long my stay here may be; however, I +expect to have the happiness of seeing you at Kilmore, if I can, next +March. + +Direct to me, if I am honoured with a letter from you, to Madam +Diallion's at Leyden. + +Thou best of men, may Heaven guard and preserve you, and those you +love. + + + +TO HIS BROTHER HENRY + +_Family matters_ + + +1759. + +... Imagine to yourself a pale, melancholy visage, with two great +wrinkles between the eyebrows, with an eye disgustingly severe, and a +big wig; and you may have a perfect picture of my present appearance. +On the other hand, I conceive you as perfectly sleek and healthy, +passing many a happy day among your own children, or those who knew +you a child. + +Since I knew what it was to be a man, this is a pleasure I have not +known. I have passed my days among a parcel of cool, designing beings, +and have contracted all their suspicious manner in my own behaviour. I +should actually be as unfit for the society of my friends at home, as +I detest that which I am obliged to partake of here. I can now neither +partake of the pleasure of a revel, nor contribute to raise its +jollity. I can neither laugh nor drink; have contracted a hesitating, +disagreeable manner of speaking, and a visage that looks ill-nature +itself; in short, I have thought myself into a settled melancholy, and +an utter disgust of all that life brings with it. Whence this romantic +turn that all our family are possessed with? Whence this love for +every place and every country but that in which we reside--for every +occupation but our own? this desire of fortune, and yet this eagerness +to dissipate? I perceive, my dear sir, that I am at intervals +for indulging this splenetic manner, and following my own taste, +regardless of yours. + +The reasons you have given me for breeding up your son as a scholar +are judicious and convincing; I should, however, be glad to know for +what particular profession he is designed. If he be assiduous and +divested of strong passions (for passions in youth always lead to +pleasure), he may do very well in your college; for it must be owned +that the industrious poor have good encouragement there, perhaps +better than in any other in Europe. But if he has ambition, strong +passions, and an exquisite sensibility of contempt, do not send him +there, unless you have no other trade for him except your own. It is +impossible to conceive how much may be done by a proper education +at home. A boy, for instance, who understands perfectly well Latin, +French, Arithmetic, and the principles of the Civil Law, and can +write a fine hand, has an education that may qualify him for any +undertaking; and these parts of learning should be better inculcated, +let him be designed for whatever calling he will. + +Above all things let him never touch a romance or novel; these paint +beauty in colours more charming than nature, and describe happiness +that man never tastes. How delusive, how destructive are those +pictures of consummate bliss! They teach the youthful mind to sigh +after beauty and happiness that never existed; to despise the little +good which fortune has mixed in our cup, by expecting more than she +ever gave; and, in general, take the word of a man who has seen +the world and who has studied human nature more by experience than +precept; take my word for it, that books teach us very little of the +world. The greatest merit in a state of poverty would only serve to +make the possessor ridiculous--may distress, but cannot relieve him. +Frugality, and even avarice, in the lower orders of mankind, are +true ambition. These afford the only ladder for the poor to rise to +preferment. Teach then, my dear sir, to your son thrift and economy. +Let his poor wandering uncle's example be placed before his eyes. I +had learned from books to be disinterested and generous, before I +was taught from experience the necessity of being prudent. I had +contracted the habits and notions of a philosopher, while I was +exposing myself to the insidious approaches of cunning: and often by +being, even with my narrow finances, charitable to excess, I forgot +the rules of justice, and placed myself in the very situation of the +wretch who thanked me for my bounty. When I am in the remotest part of +the world, tell him this, and perhaps he may improve from my example. +But I find myself again falling into my gloomy habits of thinking. + +My mother, I am informed, is almost blind; even though I had the +utmost inclination to return home, under such circumstances I could +not, for to behold her in distress without a capacity of relieving her +from it, would add much too to my splenetic habit. Your last letter +was much too short; it should have answered some queries I had made +in my former. Just sit down as I do, and write forward until you have +filled all your paper. It requires no thought, at least from the ease +with which my own sentiments rise when they are addressed to you. For, +believe me, my head has no share in all I write; my heart dictates the +whole. Pray give my love to Bob Bryanton, and entreat him from me not +to drink. My dear sir, give me some account about poor Jenny. Yet her +husband loves her: if so, she cannot be unhappy. + +I know not whether I should tell you--yet why should I conceal those +trifles, or indeed anything from you? There is a book of mine will be +published in a few days: the life of a very extraordinary man; no less +than the great Voltaire. You know already by the title that it is no +more than a catch-penny. However, I spent but four weeks on the whole +performance, for which I received twenty pounds. When published, I +shall take some method of conveying it to you, unless you may think +it dear of the postage, which may amount to four or five shillings. +However, I fear you will not find an equivalent of amusement. + +Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short; you should have given me +your opinion of the design of the heroi-comical poem which I sent you. +You remember I intended to introduce the hero of the poem as lying in +a paltry ale-house. You may take the following specimen of the manner, +which I flatter myself is quite original. The room in which he lies +may be described somewhat this way: + + The window, patched with paper, lent a ray + That feebly show'd the state in which he lay; + The sandy floor that grits beneath the tread, + The humid wall with paltry pictures spread; + The game of goose was there exposed to view, + And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew; + The Seasons, framed with listing, found a place, + And Prussia's monarch show'd his lamp-black face. + The morn was cold: he views with keen desire + A rusty grate, unconscious of a fire; + An unpaid reckoning on the frieze was scored, + And five crack'd teacups dress'd the chimney board. + +And now imagine after his soliloquy, the landlord to make his +appearance in order to dun him for the reckoning: + + Not with that face, so servile and so gay, + That welcomes every stranger that can pay: + With sulky eye he smoked the patient man, + Then pull'd his breeches tight, and thus began, &c. + +All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good remark of +Montaigne's, that the wisest men often have friends with whom they +do not care how much they play the fool. Take my present follies +as instances of regard. Poetry is a much easier and more agreeable +species of composition than prose; and, could a man live by it, it +were not unpleasant employment to be a poet. I am resolved to leave no +space, though I should fill it up only by telling you, what you very +well know already, I mean that I am + +Your most affectionate friend and brother. + + + + +WILLIAM COWPER + +1731-1800 + + + +TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON + +_Escapade of Puss_ + + +21 Aug. 1780. + +The following occurrence ought not to be passed over in silence, in +a place where so few notable ones are to be met with. Last Wednesday +night, while we were at supper, between the hours of eight and nine, I +heard an unusual noise in the back parlour, as if one of the hares was +entangled, and endeavouring to disengage herself. I was just going to +rise from table, when it ceased. In about five minutes, a voice on the +outside of the parlour door inquired if one of my hares had got +away. I immediately rushed into the next room, and found that my +poor favourite Puss had made her escape. She had gnawed in sunder the +strings of a lattice work, with which I thought I had sufficiently +secured the window, and which I preferred to any other sort of blind, +because it admitted plenty of air. From thence I hastened to the +kitchen, where I saw the redoubtable Thomas Freeman, who told me, +that having seen her, just after she had dropped into the street, he +attempted to cover her with his hat, but she screamed out, and leaped +directly over his head. I then desired him to pursue as fast as +possible, and added Richard Coleman to the chase, as being nimbler, +and carrying less weight than Thomas; not expecting to see her again, +but desirous to learn, if possible, what became of her. In something +less than an hour, Richard returned, almost breathless, with the +following account. That soon after he began to run, he left Tom +behind him, and came in sight of a most numerous hunt of men, women, +children, and dogs; that he did his best to keep back the dogs, and +presently outstripped the crowd, so that the race was at last disputed +between himself and Puss;--she ran right through the town, and down +the lane that leads to Dropshort; a little before she came to the +house, he got the start and turned her; she pushed for the town +again, and soon after she entered it, sought shelter in Mr. Wagstaff's +tanyard, adjoining to old Mr. Drake's. Sturges's harvest men were +at supper, and saw her from the opposite side of the way. There she +encountered the tanpits full of water; and while she was struggling +out of one pit, and plunging into another, and almost drowned, one of +the men drew her out by the ears, and secured her. She was then well +washed in a bucket to get the lime out of her coat, and brought home +in a sack at ten o'clock. + +This frolic cost us four shillings, but you may believe we did not +grudge a farthing of it. The poor creature received only a little hurt +in one of her claws, and in one of her ears, and is now almost as well +as ever. + +I do not call this an answer to your letter, but such as it is I send +it, presuming upon that interest which I know you take in my minutest +concerns, which I cannot express better than in the words of Terence a +little varied--_Nihil mei a te alienum putas._ + + + +TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN + +_A laugh that hurts nobody_ + + +_18 Nov. 1782._ + +MY DEAR WILLIAM, + +... I little thought when I was writing the history of John Gilpin, +that he would appear in print--I intended to laugh, and to make two +or three others laugh, of whom you were one. But now all the world +laughs, at least if they have the same relish for a tale ridiculous in +itself, and quaintly told, as we have.--Well--they do not always laugh +so innocently, or at so small an expense--for in a world like this, +abounding with subjects for satire, and with satirical wits to mark +them, a laugh that hurts nobody has at least the grace of novelty to +recommend it. Swift's darling motto was, _Vive la bagatelle_--a good +wish for a philosopher of his complexion, the greater part of whose +wisdom, whencesoever it came, most certainly came not from above. _La +bagatelle_ has no enemy in me, though it has neither so warm a friend, +nor so able a one, as it had in him. If I trifle, and merely trifle, +it is because I am reduced to it by necessity--a melancholy, that +nothing else so effectually disperses, engages me sometimes in the +arduous task of being merry by force. And, strange as it may seem, +the most ludicrous lines I ever wrote have been written in the saddest +mood, and, but for that saddest mood, perhaps had never been written +at all. To say truth, it would be but a shocking vagary, should +the mariners on board a ship buffeted by a terrible storm, employ +themselves in fiddling and dancing; yet sometimes much such a part act +I.... + + + +To THE REV. JOHN NEWTON + +_Village politicians_ + + +_26 Jan. 1783._ + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +It is reported among persons of the best intelligence at Olney--the +barber, the schoolmaster, and the drummer of a corps quartered at +this place,--that the belligerent powers are at last reconciled, the +articles of the treaty adjusted, and that peace is at the door. I saw +this morning, at nine o'clock, a group of about twelve figures very +closely engaged in a conference, as I suppose, upon the same subject. +The scene of consultation was a blacksmith's shed, very comfortably +screened from the wind, and directly opposed to the morning sun. Some +held their hands behind them, some had them folded across their bosom, +and others had thrust them into their breeches pockets. Every man's +posture bespoke a pacific turn of mind; but the distance being too +great for their words to reach me, nothing transpired. I am willing, +however, to hope that the secret will not be a secret long, and that +you and I, equally interested in the event, though not, perhaps, +equally well-informed, shall soon have an opportunity to rejoice in +the completion of it. The powers of Europe have clashed with each +other to a fine purpose; that the Americans, at length declared +independent, may keep themselves so, if they can; and that what the +parties, who have thought proper to dispute upon that point, have +wrested from each other in the course of the conflict, may be, in the +issue of it, restored to the proper owner. Nations may be guilty of +a conduct that would render an individual infamous for ever; and +yet carry their heads high, talk of their glory, and despise their +neighbours. Your opinions and mine, I mean our political ones, are +not exactly of a piece, yet I cannot think otherwise upon this subject +than I have always done. England, more, perhaps, through the fault of +her generals, than her councils, has in some instances acted with a +spirit of cruel animosity she was never chargeable with till now. But +this is the worst that can be said. On the other hand, the Americans, +who, if they had contented themselves with a struggle for lawful +liberty, would have deserved applause, seem to me to have incurred +the guilt of parricide, by renouncing their parent, by making her ruin +their favourite object, and by associating themselves with her worst +enemy, for the accomplishment of their purpose. France, and of course +Spain, have acted a treacherous, a thievish part. They have stolen +America from England, and whether they are able to possess themselves +of that jewel or not hereafter, it was doubtless what they intended. +Holland appears to me in a meaner light than any of them. They +quarrelled with a friend for an enemy's sake. The French led them +by the nose, and the English have threshed them for suffering it. +My views of the contest being, and having been always such, I have +consequently brighter hopes for England than her situation some time +since seemed to justify. She is the only injured party. America may, +perhaps, call her the aggressor; but if she were so, America has +not only repelled the injury, but done a greater. As to the rest, if +perfidy, treachery, avarice, and ambition can prove their cause to +have been a rotten one, those proofs are found upon them. I think, +therefore, that whatever scourge may be prepared for England, on some +future day, her ruin is not yet to be expected. Acknowledge, now, that +I am worthy of a place under the shed I described, and that I should +make no small figure among the _quidnuncs_ of Olney.... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Village justice_ + + +17 _Nov_. 1783. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +... The country around us is much alarmed with apprehensions of fire. +Two have happened since that of Olney. One at Hitchin, where the +damage is said to amount to eleven thousand pounds, and another, at +a place not far from Hitchin, of which I have not learnt the name. +Letters have been dropped at Bedford, threatening to burn the town; +and the inhabitants have been so intimidated, as to have placed a +guard in many parts of it, several nights past. Some madman or some +devil has broke loose, who it is to be hoped will pay dear for these +effusions of his malignity. Since our conflagration here, we have sent +two women and a boy to the justice, for depredation; Sue Riviss, for +stealing a piece of beef, which, in her excuse, she said she intended +to take care of. This lady, whom you will remember, escaped for want +of evidence; not that evidence was indeed wanting, but our men of +Gotham judged it unnecessary to send it. With her went the woman I +mentioned before, who, it seems, has made some sort of profession, +but upon this occasion allowed herself a latitude of conduct rather +inconsistent with it, having filled her apron with wearing apparel, +which she likewise intended to take care of. She would have gone to +the county gaol, had Billy Raban, the baker's son, who prosecuted, +insisted on it, but he good-naturedly, though I think weakly, +interposed in her favour, and begged her off. The young gentleman who +accompanied these fair ones is the junior son of Molly Boswell. He +had stolen some iron-work, the property of Griggs, the butcher. Being +convicted, he was ordered to be whipt, which operation he underwent +at the cart's tail, from the stone-house to the high arch, and back +again. He seemed to show great fortitude, but it was all an imposition +upon the public. The beadle, who performed, had filled his left hand +with red ochre, through which, after every stroke, he drew the lash +of his whip, leaving the appearance of a wound upon the skin, but in +reality not hurting him at all. This being perceived by Mr. Constable +Hinschcomb, who followed the beadle, he applied his cane, without any +such management or precaution, to the shoulders of the too merciful +executioner. The scene immediately became more interesting. The beadle +could by no means be prevailed upon to strike hard, which provoked the +constable to still harder; and this double flogging continued, till a +lass of Silverend, pitying the pitiful beadle thus suffering under the +hands of the pitiless constable, joined the procession, and placing +herself immediately behind the latter, seized him by his capillary +club, and pulling him backwards by the same, slapt his face with a +most Amazonian fury. This concatenation of events has taken up more of +my paper than I intended it should, but I could not forbear to inform +you how the beadle thrashed the thief, the constable the beadle, +and the lady the constable, and how the thief was the only one who +suffered nothing. Mr. Teedon has been here, and is gone again. He came +to thank me for an old pair of breeches. In answer to our inquiries +after his health, he replied that he had a slow fever, which made +him take all possible care not to inflame his blood. I admitted +his prudence, but in his particular instance could not very clearly +discern the need of it. Pump water will not heat him much; and, to +speak a little in his own style, more inebriating fluids are to him, +I fancy, not very attainable. He brought us news, the truth of which, +however, I do not vouch for, that the town of Bedford was actually on +fire yesterday, and the flames not extinguished when the bearer of the +tidings left it. + +Swift observes, when he is giving his reasons why the preacher is +elevated always above his hearers, that let the crowd be as great as +it will below, there is always room enough overhead. If the French +philosophers can carry their art of flying to the perfection they +desire, the observation may be reversed, the crowd will be overhead, +and they will have most room who stay below. I can assure you, +however, upon my own experience, that this way of travelling is +very delightful. I dreamt, a night or two since, that I drove myself +through the upper regions in a balloon and pair, with the greatest +ease and security. Having finished the tour I intended, I made a short +turn, and, with one flourish of my whip, descended; my horses prancing +and curvetting with an infinite share of spirit, but without the least +danger, either to me or my vehicle. The time, we may suppose, is at +hand, and seems to be prognosticated by my dream, when these airy +excursions will be universal, when judges will fly the circuit, +and bishops their visitations; and when the tour of Europe will be +performed with much greater speed, and with equal advantage, by all +who travel merely for the sake of having it to say that they have made +it. + +I beg that you will accept for yourself and yours our unfeigned love, +and remember me affectionately to Mr. Bacon, when you see him. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A candidate's visit_ + + +29 _March_, 1784. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +It being his majesty's pleasure that I should yet have another +opportunity to write before he dissolves the parliament, I avail +myself of it with all possible alacrity. I thank you for your last, +which was not the less welcome for coming, like an extraordinary +gazette, at a time when it was not expected. + +As when the sea is uncommonly agitated, the water finds its way into +creeks and holes of rocks, which in its calmer state it never reaches, +in like manner the effect of these turbulent times is felt even at +Orchard-side, where in general we live as undisturbed by the political +element, as shrimps or cockles that have been accidentally deposited +in some hollow beyond the water mark, by the usual dashing of the +waves. We were sitting yesterday after dinner, the two ladies and +myself, very composedly, and without the least apprehension of any +such intrusion in our snug parlour, one lady knitting, the other +netting, and the gentleman winding worsted, when to our unspeakable +surprise a mob appeared before the window; a smart rap was heard at +the door, the boys halloo'd, and the maid announced Mr. Grenville. +Puss was unfortunately let out of her box, so that the candidate, with +all his good friends at his heels, was refused admittance at the grand +entry, and referred to the back door, as the only possible way of +approach. Candidates are creatures not very susceptible of affronts, +and would rather, I suppose, climb in at a window, than be absolutely +excluded. In a minute, the yard, the kitchen, and the parlour, were +filled. Mr. Grenville, advancing toward me, shook me by the hand with +a degree of cordiality that was extremely seducing. As soon as he and +as many more as could find chairs, were seated, he began to open the +intent of his visit. I told him I had no vote, for which he readily +gave me credit. I assured him I had no influence, which he was not +equally inclined to believe, and the less, no doubt, because Mr. +Ashburner, the draper, addressing himself to me at this moment, +informed me that I had a great deal. Supposing that I could not be +possessed of such a treasure without knowing it, I ventured to confirm +my first assertion, by saying, that if I had any I was utterly at a +loss to imagine where it could be, or wherein it consisted. Thus ended +the conference. Mr. Grenville squeezed me by the hand again, kissed +the ladies, and withdrew. He kissed likewise the maid in the kitchen, +and seemed upon the whole a most loving, kissing, kind-hearted +gentlemen. He has a pair of very good eyes in his head, which not +being sufficient as it should seem for the many nice and difficult +purposes of a senator, he has a third also, which he wore suspended by +a riband from his buttonhole. The boys halloo'd, the dogs barked, +Puss scampered, the hero, with his long train of obsequious followers, +withdrew. We made ourselves very merry with the adventure, and in a +short time settled into our former tranquillity, never probably to be +thus interrupted more. I thought myself, however, happy in being able +to affirm truly that I had not that influence for which he sued; +and which, had I been possessed of it, with my present views of the +dispute between the Crown and the Commons, I must have refused him, +for he is on the side of the former. It is comfortable to be of +no consequence in a world where one cannot exercise any without +disobliging somebody. The town, however, seems to be much at his +service, and if he be equally successful throughout the country, he +will undoubtedly gain his election. Mr. Ashburner perhaps was a little +mortified, because it was evident that I owed the honour of this visit +to his misrepresentation of my importance. But had he thought proper +to assure Mr. Grenville that I had three heads, I should not I suppose +have been bound to produce them.... + + + +To LADY HESKETH + +_An acquaintance reopened_ + + +Olney, 9 _Nov_. 1785. + +MY DEAREST COUSIN, + +Whose last most affectionate letter has run in my head ever since I +received it, and which I now sit down to answer two days sooner than +the post will serve me; I thank you for it, and with a warmth for +which I am sure you will give me credit, though I do not spend +many words in describing it. I do not seek _new_ friends, not being +altogether sure that I should find them, but have unspeakable +pleasure in being still beloved by an old one. I hope that now our +correspondence has suffered its last interruption, and that we shall +go down together to the grave, chatting and chirping as merrily as +such a scene of things as this will permit. + +I am happy that my poems have pleased you. My volume has afforded me +no such pleasure at any time, either while I was writing it, or since +its publication, as I have derived from yours and my uncle's opinion +of it. I make certain allowances for partiality, and for that peculiar +quickness of taste, with which you both relish what you like, and +after all drawbacks upon those accounts duly made, find myself rich in +the measure of your approbation that still remains. But above all, +I honour _John Gilpin_, since it was he who first encouraged you to +write. I made him on purpose to laugh at, and he served his purpose +well; but I am now in debt to him for a more valuable acquisition +than all the laughter in the world amounts to, the recovery of my +intercourse with you, which is to me inestimable. My benevolent and +generous Cousin, when I was once asked if I wanted anything, and given +delicately to understand that the inquirer was ready to supply all +my occasions, I thankfully and civilly, but positively, declined the +favour. I neither suffer, nor have suffered, any such inconveniences +as I had not much rather endure than come under obligations of that +sort to a person comparatively with yourself a stranger to me. But to +you I answer otherwise. I know you thoroughly, and the liberality of +your disposition, and have that consummate confidence in the +sincerity of your wish to serve me, that delivers me from all awkward +constraint, and from all fear of trespassing by acceptance. To you, +therefore, I reply, yes. Whensoever, and whatsoever, and in what +manner-soever you please; and add moreover, that my affection for the +giver is such as will increase to me tenfold the satisfaction that I +shall have in receiving. It is necessary, however, that I should let +you a little into the state of my finances, that you may not suppose +them more narrowly circumscribed than they are. Since Mrs. Unwin and +I have lived at Olney, we have had but one purse, although during the +whole of that time, till lately, her income was nearly double mine. +Her revenues indeed are now in some measure reduced, and do not much +exceed my own; the worst consequence of this is, that we are forced to +deny ourselves some things which hitherto we have been better able to +afford, but they are such things as neither life, nor the well-being +of life, depend upon. My own income has been better than it is, +but when it was best, it would not have enabled me to live as my +connexions demanded that I should, had it not been combined with a +better than itself, at least at this end of the kingdom. Of this I had +full proof during three months that I spent in lodgings at Huntingdon, +in which time by the help of good management, and a clear notion of +economical matters, I contrived to spend the income of a twelvemonth. +Now, my beloved Cousin, you are in possession of the whole case as it +stands. Strain no points to your own inconvenience or hurt, for there +is no need of it, but indulge yourself in communicating (no matter +what) that you can spare without missing it, since by so doing you +will be sure to add to the comforts of my life one of the sweetest +that I can enjoy--a token and proof of your affection. + +I cannot believe but that I should know you, notwithstanding all that +time may have done: there is not a feature of your face, could I meet +it upon the road, by itself, that I should not instantly recollect. +I should say that is my Cousin's nose, or those are her lips and her +chin, and no woman upon earth can claim them but herself. As for me, I +am a very smart youth of my years; I am not indeed grown grey so much +as I am grown bald. No matter: there was more hair in the world than +ever had the honour to belong to me; accordingly having found just +enough to curl a little at my ears, and to intermix with a little +of my own that still hangs behind, I appear, if you see me in an +afternoon, to have a very decent head-dress, not easily distinguished +from my natural growth, which being worn with a small bag, and a black +riband about my neck, continues to me the charms of my youth, even on +the verge of age. Away with the fear of writing too often! + +PS. That the view I give you of myself may be complete, I add the two +following items--That I am in debt to nobody, and that I grow fat. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The kindliness of thanks_ + + +30 _Nov_. 1785. + +My dearest cousin, + +Your kindness reduces me to a necessity (a pleasant one, indeed), of +writing all my letters in the same terms: always thanks, thanks at +the beginning, and thanks at the end. It is however, I say, a pleasant +employment when those thanks are indeed the language of the heart: and +I can truly add, that there is no person on earth whom I thank with +so much affection as yourself. You insisted that I should give you my +genuine opinion of the wine. By the way, it arrived without the least +damage or fracture, and I finished the first bottle of it this very +day. It is excellent, and though the wine which I had been used to +drink was not bad, far preferable to that. The bottles will be in town +on Saturday. I am enamoured of the desk and its contents before I see +them. They will be most entirely welcome. A few years since I made +Mrs. Unwin a present of a snuff-box--a silver one; the purchase was +made in London by a friend; it is of a size and form that make it +more fit for masculine than feminine use. She therefore with pleasure +accepts the box which you have sent--I should say with the greatest +pleasure. And I, discarding the leathern trunk that I have used so +long, shall succeed to the possession of hers. She says, Tell Lady +Hesketh that I truly love and honour her. Now, my Cousin, you may +depend upon it, as a most certain truth, that these words from her +lips are not an empty sound. I never in my life heard her profess a +regard for any one that she felt not. She is not addicted to the use +of such language upon ordinary occasions; but when she speaks it, +speaks from the heart. She has baited me this many a day, even as a +bear is baited, to send for Dr. Kerr. But, as I hinted to you upon +a former occasion, I am as mulish as most men are, and have hitherto +most ungallantly refused; but what is to be done now?--If it were +uncivil not to comply with the solicitations of one lady, to be +unmoved by the solicitations of two would prove me to be a bear +indeed. I will, therefore, summon him to consideration of said +stomach, and its ailments, without delay, and you shall know the +result.--I have read Goldsmith's _Traveller_ and his _Deserted +Village_, and am highly pleased with them both, as well for the manner +in which they are executed, as for their tendency, and the lessons +that they inculcate. + +Mrs. Unwin said to me a few nights since, after supper, 'I have two +fine fowls in feeding, and just fit for use; I wonder whether I should +send them to Lady Hesketh?' I replied, Yes, by all means! and I will +tell you a story that will at once convince you of the propriety of +doing so. My brother was curate on a time to Mr. Fawkes, of Orpington, +in Kent: it was when I lived in the Temple. One morning, as I was +reading by the fireside, I heard a prodigious lumbering at the door. I +opened it, and beheld a most rural figure, with very dirty boots, and +a great coat as dirty. Supposing that my great fame as a barrister had +drawn upon me a client from some remote region, I desired him to walk +in. He did so, and introduced himself to my acquaintance by telling me +that he was the farmer with whom my brother lodged at Orpington. +After this preliminary information he unbuttoned his great coat, and I +observed a quantity of long feathers projected from an inside pocket. +He thrust in his hand, and with great difficulty extricated a great +fat capon. He then proceeded to lighten the other side of him, by +dragging out just such another, and begged my acceptance of both. +I sent them to a tavern, where they were dressed, and I with two or +three friends, whom I invited to the feast, found them incomparably +better than any fowls we had ever tasted from the London co-ops. Now, +said I to Mrs. Unwin, it is likely that the fowls at Olney may be as +good as the fowls at Orpington, therefore send them; for it is not +possible to make so good a use of them in any other way ... Adieu, my +faithful, kind, and consolatory friend! + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Arrival of the desk_ + + +7 _Dec_. 1785. + +My dear cousin, + +At this time last night I was writing to you, and now I am writing to +you again ... My dear, you say not a word about the desk in your last, +which I received this morning. I infer from your silence that you +supposed it either at Olney or on its way thither, and that you +expected nothing so much as that my next would inform you of its safe +arrival;--therefore, where can it possibly be? I am not absolutely in +despair about it, for the reasons that I mentioned last night; but to +say the truth, I stand tottering upon the verge of it. I write, and +have written these many years, upon a book of maps, which I now begin +to find too low and too flat, though till I expected a better desk, +I found no fault with _them_. See and observe how true it is, that +by increasing the number of our conveniences, we multiply our wants +exactly in the same proportion! neither can I at all doubt that if you +were to tell me that all the men in London of any fashion at all, wore +black velvet shoes with white roses, and should also tell me that you +would send me such, I should dance with impatience till they arrived. +Not because I care one farthing of what materials my shoes are made, +but because any shoes of your sending would interest me from head to +foot. + +_Thursday Evening_. + +Oh that this letter had wings, that it might fly to tell you that my +desk, the most elegant, the compactest, the most commodious desk in +the world, and of all the desks that ever were or ever shall be, +the desk that I love the most, is safe arrived. Nay, my dear, it was +actually at Sherrington, when the wagoner's wife (for the man himself +was not at home) croaked out her abominable _No_! yet she examined the +bill of lading, but either did it so carelessly, or as poor Dick Madan +used to say, with such an _ignorant eye_, that my name escaped her. My +precious Cousin, you have bestowed too much upon me. I have nothing +to render you in return, but the affectionate feelings of a heart most +truly sensible of your kindness. How pleasant it is to write upon such +a green bank! I am sorry that I have so nearly reached the end of +my paper. I have now however only room to say that Mrs. Unwin is +delighted with her box, and bids me do more than thank you for +it. What can I do more at this distance but say that she loves you +heartily, and that so do I? The pocket-book is also the completest +that I ever saw, and the watch-chain the most brilliant. + +Adieu for a little while. Now for Homer. + +N.B.--I generally write the day before the post sets out, which is +the thing that puzzles you. I do it that I may secure time for the +purpose, and may not be hurried. On this very day twenty-two years ago +I left London. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Anticipations of a visit_ + + +Olney, 9 _Feb_. 1786. + +MY DEAREST COUSIN, + +I have been impatient to tell you that I am impatient to see you +again. Mrs. Unwin partakes with me in all my feelings upon this +subject, and longs also to see you. I should have told you so by the +last post, but have been so completely occupied by this tormenting +specimen, that it was impossible to do it. I sent the General a letter +on Monday that should distress and alarm him; I sent him another +yesterday, that will, I hope, quiet him again. Johnson has apologized +very civilly for the multitude of his friend's strictures; and his +friend has promised to confine himself in future to a comparison of +me with the original, so that, I doubt not, we shall jog on merrily +together. And now, my dear, let me tell you once more, that your +kindness in promising us a visit has charmed us both! I shall see you +again. I shall hear your voice. We shall take walks together. I will +show you my prospects, the hovel, the alcove, the Ouse and its banks, +everything that I have described. I anticipate the pleasure of those +days not very far distant, and feel a part of it at this moment. Talk +not of an inn! Mention it not for your life! We have never had so many +visitors, but we could easily accommodate them all, though we have +received Unwin, and his wife, and his sister, and his son all at once. +My dear, I will not let you come till the end of May, or beginning +of June, because before that time my greenhouse will not be ready to +receive us, and it is the only pleasant room belonging to us. When +the plants go out, we go in. I line it with mats, and spread the floor +with mats; and there you shall sit with a bed of mignonette at your +side, and a hedge of honeysuckles, roses, and jasmine; and I will make +you a bouquet of myrtle every day. Sooner than the time I mention the +country will not be in complete beauty. + +And I will tell you what you shall find at your first entrance. +Imprimis, as soon as you have entered the vestibule, if you cast a +look on either side of you, you shall see on the right hand a box of +my making. It is the box in which have been lodged all my hares, and +in which lodges Puss at present; but he, poor fellow, is worn out with +age, and promises to die before you can see him. On the right +hand stands a cupboard, the work of the same author; it was once a +dove-cage, but I transformed it. Opposite to you stands a table, +which I also made; but a merciless servant having scrubbed it until it +became paralytic, it serves no purpose now but of ornament; and all +my clean shoes stand under it. On the left hand, at the farther end +of this superb vestibule, you will find the door of the parlour, +into which I will conduct you, and where I will introduce you to Mrs. +Unwin, unless we should meet her before, and where we will be as happy +as the day is long. Order yourself, my Cousin, to the Swan at Newport, +and there you shall find me ready to conduct you to Olney. + +My dear, I have told Homer what you say about casks and urns, and have +asked him whether he is sure that it is a cask in which Jupiter keeps +his wine. He swears that it is a cask, and that it will never be +anything better than a cask to eternity. So if the god is content with +it, we must even wonder at his taste, and be so too. + +Adieu! my dearest, dearest Cousin. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Commissions and thanks_ + + +The Lodge, 24 _Dec_. 1786. + +You must by no means, my dearest Coz, pursue the plan that has +suggested itself to you on the supposed loss of your letter. In +the first place I choose that my Sundays, like the Sundays of other +people, shall be distinguished by something that shall make me look +forward to them with agreeable expectation, and for that reason desire +that they may always bring me a letter from you. In the next place, +if I know when to _expect_ a letter, I know likewise when to _inquire +after_ a letter, if it happens not to come; a circumstance of some +importance, considering how excessively careless they are at the Swan, +where letters are sometimes overlooked, and do not arrive at their +destination, if no inquiry be made, till some days have passed since +their arrival at Olney. It has happened frequently to me to receive +a letter long after all the rest have been delivered, and the Padre +assured me that Mr. Throckmorton has sent notes three several times to +Mrs. Marriot, complaining of this neglect. For these reasons, my dear, +thou must write still on Saturdays, and as often on other days as thou +pleasest. + +The screens came safe, and one of them is at this moment interposed +between me and the fire, much to the comfort of my peepers. The +other of them being fitted up with a screw that was useless, I have +consigned it to proper hands, that it may be made as serviceable +as its brother. They are very neat, and I account them a great +acquisition. Our carpenter assures me that the lameness of the chairs +was not owing to any injury received in their journey, but that the +maker never properly finished them. They were not high when they came, +and in order to reduce them to a level, we have lowered them an inch. +Thou knowest, child, that the short foot could not be lengthened, for +which reason we shortened the long ones. The box containing the plate +and the brooms reached us yesterday, and nothing had suffered the +least damage by the way. Everything is smart, everything is elegant, +and we admire them all. The short candlesticks are short enough. I am +now writing with those upon the table; Mrs. U. is reading opposite, +and they suit us both exactly. With the money that you have in hand, +you may purchase, my dear, at your most convenient time, a tea-urn; +that which we have at present having never been handsome, and being +now old and patched. A parson once, as he walked across the parlour, +pushed it down with his belly, and it never perfectly recovered +itself. We want likewise a tea-waiter, meaning, if you please, such +a one as you may remember to have seen at the Hall, a wooden one. +To which you may add, from the same fund, three or four yards of +yard-wide muslin, wherewithal to make neckcloths for my worship. If +after all these disbursements anything should be left at the bottom +of the purse, we shall be obliged to you if you will expend it in the +purchase of silk pocket-handkerchiefs. There, my precious--I think I +have charged thee with commissions in plenty. + +You neither must nor shall deny us the pleasure of sending to you +such small matters as we do. As to the partridges, you may recollect +possibly, when I remind you of it, that I never eat them; they refuse +to pass my stomach; and Mrs. Unwin rejoiced in receiving them only +because she could pack them away to you--therefore never lay us under +any embargoes of this kind, for I tell you beforehand, that we are +both incorrigible. My beloved Cousin, the first thing that I open my +eyes upon in a morning, is it not the bed in which you have laid me? +Did you not, in our old dismal parlour at Olney, give me the tea on +which I breakfast?--the chocolate that I drank at noon, and the table +at which I dine?--the everything, in short, that I possess in the +shape of convenience, is it not all from you? and is it possible, +think you, that we should either of us overlook an opportunity of +making such a tiny acknowledgement of your kindness? Assure yourself +that never, while my name is Giles Gingerbread, will I dishonour my +glorious ancestry, and my illustrious appellation, by so unworthy a +conduct. I love you at my heart, and so does Mrs. U., and we must say +thank you, and send you a peppercorn when we can. So thank you, my +dear, for the brawn and the chine, and for all the good things that +you announce, and at present I will, for your sake, say no more of +thanksgiving. + + + +TO MRS. BODHAM + +_His mother's portrait_ + + +Weston, 27 _Feb._ 1790. + +MY DEAREST ROSE, + +Whom I thought withered, and fallen from the stalk, but whom I still +find alive: nothing could give me greater pleasure than to know it, +and to hear it from yourself. I loved you dearly when you were a +child, and love you not a jot the less for having ceased to be so. +Every creature that bears any affinity to my mother is dear to me, and +you, the daughter of her brother, are but one remove distant from her: +I love you, therefore, and love you much, both for her sake, and for +your own. The world could not have furnished you with a present so +acceptable to me, as the picture which you have so kindly sent me. I +received it the night before last, and viewed it with a trepidation of +nerves and spirits somewhat akin to what I should have felt, had the +dear original presented herself to my embraces. I kissed it, and hung +it where it is the last object that I see at night, and, of course, +the first on which I open my eyes in the morning. She died when I +completed my sixth year; yet I remember her well, and am an ocular +witness of the great fidelity of the copy. I remember, too, a +multitude of the maternal tendernesses which I received from her, and +which have endeared her memory to me beyond expression. There is in +me, I believe, more of the Donne than of the Cowper; and though I love +all of both names, and have a thousand reasons to love those of my own +name, yet I feel the bond of nature draw me vehemently to your side. +I was thought in the days of my childhood much to resemble my mother; +and in my natural temper, of which at the age of fifty-eight I must +be supposed to be a competent judge, can trace both her, and my late +uncle, your father. Somewhat of his irritability; and a little, +I would hope, both of his and of her--I know not what to call it, +without seeming to praise myself, which is not my intention, but +speaking to _you_, I will even speak out, and say _good nature_. Add +to all this, I deal much in poetry, as did our venerable ancestor, the +Dean of St. Paul's, and I think I shall have proved myself a Donne at +all points. The truth is, that whatever I am, I love you all. + + + + +EDMUND BURKE + +1729-1797 + + + +TO MATTHEW SMITH + +_First impressions of London_ + + +[1750.] + +You'll expect some short account of my journey to this great city. To +tell you the truth, I made very few remarks as I rolled along, for my +mind was occupied with many thoughts, and my eyes often filled with +tears, when I reflected on all the dear friends I left behind; yet +the prospects could not fail to attract the attention of the most +indifferent: country seats sprinkled round on every side, some in the +modern taste, some in the style of old De Coverley Hall, all smiling +on the neat but humble cottage; every village as neat and compact as +a bee-hive, resounding with the busy hum of industry; and inns like +palaces. + +What a contrast to our poor country, where you'll scarce find a +cottage ornamented with a chimney! But what pleased me most of all +was the progress of agriculture, my favourite study, and my favourite +pursuit, if Providence had blessed me with a few paternal acres. + +A description of London and its natives would fill a volume. The +buildings are very fine: it may be called the sink of vice: but its +hospitals and charitable institutions, whose turrets pierce the skies +like so many electrical conductors, avert the wrath of Heaven. The +inhabitants may be divided into two classes, the _undoers_ and the +_undone_; generally so, I say, for I am persuaded there are many men +of honesty and women of virtue in every street. An Englishman is +cold and distant at first; he is very cautious even in forming an +acquaintance; he must know you well before he enters into friendship +with you; but if he does, he is not the first to dissolve that sacred +bond: in short, a real Englishman is one that performs more than he +promises; in company he is rather silent, extremely prudent in his +expressions, even in politics, his favourite topic. The women are not +quite so reserved; they consult their glasses to the best advantage; +and as nature is very liberal in her gifts to their persons, and even +minds, it is not easy for a young man to escape their glances, or to +shut his ears to their softly flowing accents. + +As to the state of learning in this city, you know I have not been +long enough in it to form a proper judgement of that subject. I don't +think, however, there is as much respect paid to a man of letters on +this side of the water as you imagine. I don't find that genius, the +'rath primrose, which forsaken dies', is patronized by any of the +nobility, so that writers of the first talents are left to the +capricious patronage of the public. Notwithstanding discouragement, +literature is cultivated in a high degree. Poetry raises her +enchanting voice to Heaven. History arrests the wings of Time in his +flight to the gulf of oblivion. Philosophy, the queen of arts, and the +daughter of Heaven, is daily extending her intellectual empire. Fancy +sports on airy wing like a meteor on the bosom of a summer cloud; and +even Metaphysics spins her cobwebs, and catches some flies. + +The House of Commons not unfrequently exhibits explosions of eloquence +that rise superior to those of Greece and Rome, even in their +proudest days. Yet, after all, a man will make more by the figures of +arithmetic than the figures of rhetoric, unless he can get into the +trade wind, and then he may sail secure over Pactolean sands. As to +the stage, it is sunk, in my opinion, into the lowest degree; I +mean with regard to the trash that is exhibited on it; but I don't +attribute this to the taste of the audience, for when Shakespeare +warbles his 'native woodnotes', the boxes, pit, and gallery, are +crowded--and the gods are true to every word, if properly winged to +the heart. + +Soon after my arrival in town I visited Westminster Abbey: the +moment I entered I felt a kind of awe pervade my mind which I cannot +describe; the very silence seemed sacred. Henry VII's chapel is a very +fine piece of Gothic architecture, particularly the roof; but I am +told that it is exceeded by a chapel in the University of Cambridge. +Mrs. Nightingale's monument has not been praised beyond its merit. The +attitude and expression of the husband in endeavouring to shield his +wife from the dart of death, is natural and affecting. But I always +thought that the image of death would be much better represented with +an extinguished torch inverted, than with a dart. Some would imagine +that all these monuments were so many monuments of folly;--I don't +think so; what useful lessons of morality and sound philosophy do +they not exhibit! When the high-born beauty surveys her face in the +polished Parian, though dumb the marble, yet it tells her that it was +placed to guard the remains of as fine a form, and as fair a face as +her own. They show besides how anxious we are to extend our loves and +friendships beyond the grave, and to snatch as much as we can from +oblivion--such is our natural love of immortality; but it is here +that letters obtain the noblest triumphs; it is here that the swarthy +daughters of Cadmus may hang their trophies on high; for when all +the pride of the chisel and the pomp of heraldry yield to the silent +touches of time, a single line, a half-worn-out inscription, remain +faithful to their trust. Blest be the man that first introduced these +strangers into our islands, and may they never want protection or +merit! I have not the least doubt that the finest poem in the +English language, I mean Milton's _Il Penseroso_, was composed in the +long-resounding aisle of a mouldering cloister or ivy'd abbey. Yet +after all do you know that I would rather sleep in the southern corner +of a little country churchyard, than in the tomb of the Capulets. I +should like, however, that my dust should mingle with kindred dust. +The good old expression 'family burying-ground' has something pleasing +in it, at least to me. + + + +To JAMES BARRY + +_A friend's infirmities_ + + +Gregories, 16 _Sept_. 1769. + +MY DEAR BARRY, + +I am most exceedingly obliged to your friendship and partiality, +which attributed a silence very blameable on our parts to a favourable +cause: let me add in some measure to its true cause, a great deal of +occupation of various sorts, and some of them disagreeable enough. + +As to any reports concerning your conduct and behaviour, you may be +very sure they could have no kind of influence here; for none of us +are of such a make as to trust to any one's report for the character +of a person whom we ourselves know. Until very lately, I had never +heard anything of your proceedings from others; and when I did, it was +much less than I had known from yourself, that you had been upon ill +terms with the artists and virtuosi in Rome, without much mention of +cause or consequence. If you have improved these unfortunate quarrels +to your advancement in your art, you have turned a very disagreeable +circumstance to a very capital advantage. However you may have +succeeded in this uncommon attempt, permit me to suggest to you, with +that friendly liberty which you have always had the goodness to bear +from me, that you cannot possibly have always the same success, either +with regard to your fortune or your reputation. Depend upon it, that +you will find the same competitions, the same jealousies, the same +arts and cabals, the emulations of interest and of fame, and the same +agitations and passions here that you have experienced in Italy; and +if they have the same effect on your temper, they will have just the +same effects upon your interest; and be your merit what it will, you +will never be employed to paint a picture. It will be the same at +London as at Rome, and the same in Paris as in London, for the world +is pretty nearly alike in all its parts; nay, though it would perhaps +be a little inconvenient to me, I had a thousand times rather you +should fix your residence in Rome than here, as I should not then have +the mortification of seeing with my own eyes a genius of the first +rank lost to the world, himself, and his friends; as I certainly must, +if you do not assume a manner of acting and thinking here, totally +different from what your letters from Rome have described to me. + +That you have had just subjects of indignation always, and of anger +often, I do no ways doubt; who can live in the world without some +trial of his patience? But believe me, my dear Barry, that the arms +with which the ill dispositions of the world are to be combated, and +the qualities by which it is to be reconciled to us, and we reconciled +to it, are moderation, gentleness, a little indulgence to others, and +a great deal of mistrust of ourselves; which are not qualities of a +mean spirit, as some may possibly think them; but virtues of a +great and noble kind, and such as dignify our nature as much as they +contribute to our repose and fortune; for nothing can be so unworthy +of a well-composed soul, as to pass away life in bickerings and +litigations, in snarling and scuffling with every one about us. + +Again and again, my dear Barry, we must be at peace with our species; +if not for their sakes yet very much for our own. Think what my +feelings must be, from my unfeigned regard, and from my wishes +that your talents might be of use, when I see what the inevitable +consequences must be, of your persevering in what has hitherto been +your course, ever since I knew you, and which you will permit me to +trace out for you beforehand. + +You will come here; you will observe what the artists are doing; +and you will sometimes speak a disapprobation in plain words, and +sometimes by a no less expressive silence. By degrees you will produce +some of your own works. They will be variously criticized; you +will defend them; you will abuse those that have attacked you; +expostulations, discussions, letters, possibly challenges, will go +forward; you will shun your brethren, they will shun you. In the +meantime, gentlemen will avoid your friendship, for fear of being +engaged in your quarrels; you will fall into distresses which will +only aggravate your disposition for further quarrels; you will be +obliged for maintenance to do anything for anybody; your very talents +will depart for want of hope and encouragement; and you will go out of +the world fretted, disappointed, and ruined. + +Nothing but my real regard for you could induce me to set these +considerations in this light before you. Remember, we are born +to serve and to adorn our country, and not to contend with our +fellow-citizens, and that in particular your business is to paint and +not to dispute.... + +If you think this a proper time to leave Rome (a matter which I +leave entirely to yourself), I am quite of opinion you ought to go +to Venice. Further, I think it right to see Florence and Bologna; and +that you cannot do better than to take that route to Venice. In short, +do everything that may contribute to your improvement, and I shall +rejoice to see you what Providence intended you, a very great man. +This you were, in your _ideas_, before you quitted this; you best know +how far you have studied, that is, practised the mechanic; despised +nothing till you had tried it; practised dissections with your own +hands, painted from nature as well as from the statues, and portrait +as well as history, and this frequently. If you have done all this, +as I trust you have, you want nothing but a little prudence, to fulfil +all our wishes. This, let me tell you, is no small matter; for it is +impossible for you to find any persons anywhere more truly interested +for you; to these dispositions attribute everything which may be a +little harsh in this letter. We are, thank God, all well, and all most +truly and sincerely yours. I seldom write so long a letter. Take this +as a sort of proof how much I am, dear Barry, Your faithful friend. + + + +To LORD AUCKLAND + +_An old stag at bay_ + + +Beaconsfield, 30 _Oct_. 1795. + +My dear Lord, + +I am perfectly sensible of the very flattering honour you have done +me in turning any part of your attention towards a dejected old man, +buried in the anticipated grave of a feeble old age, forgetting and +forgotten in an obscure and melancholy retreat. + +In this retreat I have nothing relative to this world to do but to +study all the tranquillity that in the state of my mind I am capable +of. To that end I find it but too necessary to call to my aid an +oblivion of most of the circumstances pleasant and unpleasant of my +life; to think as little, and indeed to know as little as I can of +everything that is doing about me; and, above all, to divert my mind +from all presagings and prognostications of what I must (if I let my +speculations loose) consider as of absolute necessity to happen after +my death, and possibly even before it. Your address to the public +which you have been so good as to send to me, obliges me to break in +upon that plan, and to look a little on what is behind, and very much +on what is before me. It creates in my mind a variety of thoughts, and +all of them unpleasant. + +It is true, my Lord, what you say, that through our public life, +we have generally sailed on somewhat different tacks. We have so +undoubtedly, and we should do so still, if I had continued longer +to keep the sea. In that difference you rightly observe that I have +always done justice to your skill and ability as a navigator, and to +your good intentions towards the safety of the cargo and of the ship's +company. I cannot say now that we are on different tacks. There would +be no propriety in the metaphor. I can sail no longer. My vessel +cannot be said to be even in port. She is wholly condemned and broken +up. To have an idea of that vessel you must call to mind what you have +often seen on the Kentish road. Those planks of tough and hardy oak +that used for years to brave the buffets of the Bay of Biscay, are +now turned with their warped grain and empty trunnion holes into very +wretched pales for the enclosure of a wretched farmyard. + +The style of your pamphlet, and the eloquence and power of composition +you display in it, are such as do great honour to your talents; and +in conveying any other sentiments would give me very great pleasure. +Perhaps I do not very perfectly comprehend your purpose, and the drift +of your arguments. If I do not--pray do not attribute my mistake to +want of candour, but to want of sagacity. I confess your address to +the public, together with other accompanying circumstances, has filled +me with a degree of grief and dismay which I cannot find words to +express. If the plan of politics there recommended, pray excuse my +freedom, should be adopted by the King's Councils and by the good +people of this kingdom (as so recommended undoubtedly it will) +nothing can be the consequence but utter and irretrievable ruin to the +Ministry, to the Crown, to the succession, to the importance, to the +independence, to the very existence of this country. + +This is my feeble perhaps, but clear, positive, decided, long and +maturely reflected, and frequently declared opinion, from which all +the events which have lately come to pass, so far from turning me, +have tended to confirm beyond the power of alteration, even by your +eloquence and authority. I find, my dear Lord, that you think some +persons who are not satisfied with the securities of a Jacobin peace, +to be persons of intemperate minds. I may be, and I fear I am with you +in that description: but pray, my Lord, recollect that very few of +the causes which make men intemperate, can operate upon me. Sanguine +hopes, vehement desires, inordinate ambition, implacable animosity, +party attachments, or party interests; all these with me have no +existence. For myself or for a family (alas! I have none), I have +nothing to hope or to fear in this world. I am attached by principle, +inclination, and gratitude to the King, and to the present Ministry. + +Perhaps you may think that my animosity to Opposition is the cause of +my dissent on seeing the politics of Mr. Fox (which while I was in the +world I combated by every instrument which God had put into my hands, +and in every situation in which I had taken part), so completely +adopted in your Lordship's book: but it was with pain I broke with +that great man for ever in that cause--and I assure you, it is not +without pain that I differ with your Lordship on the same principles. +But it is of no concern. I am far below the region of those great and +tempestuous passions. I feel nothing of the intemperance of mind. It +is rather sorrow and dejection than anger. + +Once more my best thanks for your very polite attention, and do me the +favour to believe me with the most perfect sentiments of respect +and regard, my dear Lord, Your Lordship's most obedient and humble +servant. + + + +To MARY LEADBEATER + +_His last letter[1]_ + + +Bath, 23 _May_, 1797. + +My dear Mrs. Leadbeater, + +I feel as I ought to do your constant hereditary kindness to me and +mine. What you have heard of my illness is far from exaggerated. I am, +thank God, alive, and that is all. Hastening to my dissolution, I have +to bless Providence that I do not suffer a great deal of pain.... Mrs. +Burke has a tolerable share of health--in every respect except much +use of her limbs. She remembers your mother's most good-natured +attentions, as I am sure I do with much gratitude. I have ever been +an admirer of your talents and virtues, and shall ever wish +most cordially for everything which can tend to your credit and +satisfaction. I therefore congratulate you very heartily on the +birth of your son; and pray remember me to the representative of your +family, who I hope still keeps up the school of which I have so tender +a remembrance; though after so long an absence, and so many unpleasant +events of every kind that have distracted my thoughts, I hardly dare +ask for any one, not knowing whether they are living or dead, lest I +should be the means of awakening unpleasant recollections. Believe me +to be, with the most respectful and affectionate regards, my dear Mrs. +Leadbeater, + +Your faithful friend, and very humble servant. + +PS. Pray remember me to Mr. Leadbeater. I have been at Bath these four +months to no purpose, and am therefore to be removed to my own +house at Beaconsfield to-morrow, to be nearer to a habitation more +permanent, humbly and fearfully hoping that my better part may find a +better mansion. + +[Footnote 1: Cp. p. 281.] + + + + +EDWARD GIBBON + +1737-1794 + + + +To MRS. PORTEN + +_His daily life_ + + +Lausanne, 27 _Dec._ 1783. + +... In speaking of the happiness which I enjoy, you will agree with me +in giving the preference to a sincere and sensible friend; and though +you cannot discern the full extent of his merit, you will easily +believe that Deyverdun is the man. Perhaps two persons so perfectly +fitted to live together were never formed by nature and education. +We have both read and seen a great variety of objects; the lights +and shades of our different characters are happily blended, and +a friendship of thirty years has taught us to enjoy our mutual +advantages, and to support our unavoidable imperfections. In love and +marriage, some harsh sounds will sometimes interrupt the harmony, +and in the course of time, like our neighbours, we must expect some +disagreeable moments; but confidence and freedom are the two pillars +of our union, and I am much mistaken, if the building be not solid and +comfortable.... + +In this season I rise (not at four in the morning) but a little before +eight; at nine I am called from my study to breakfast, which I always +perform alone, in the English style; and, with the aid of Caplin, +I perceive no difference between Lausanne and Bentinck Street. Our +mornings are usually passed in separate studies; we never approach +each other's door without a previous message, or thrice knocking; and +my apartment is already sacred and formidable to strangers. I dress at +half-past one, and at two (an early hour, to which I am not perfectly +reconciled) we sit down to dinner.... After dinner, and the departure +of our company, one, two, or three friends, we read together some +amusing book, or play at chess, or retire to our rooms, or make +visits, or go to the coffee-house. Between six and seven the +assemblies begin, and I am oppressed only with their number and +variety. Whist, at shillings or half-crowns, is the game I generally +play, and I play three rubbers with pleasure. Between nine and ten we +withdraw to our bread and cheese, and friendly converse, which sends +us to bed at eleven; but these sober hours are too often interrupted +by private or numerous suppers, which I have not the courage to +resist, though I practise a laudable abstinence at the best furnished +tables. Such is the skeleton of my life.... + + + +TO LORD SHEFFIELD + +_A great work_ + + +Lausanne, 20 _Jan._ 1787. + +... As long as I do not inform you of my death, you have good grounds +to believe me alive and well. You have a general, and will soon have a +more particular idea of my system and arrangement here. One day glides +away after another in tranquil uniformity. Every object must have +sides and moments less luminous than others; but, upon the whole, the +life and the place which I have chosen are most happily adapted to my +character and circumstances: and I can now repeat, at the end of three +years, what I soon and sincerely affirmed, that never in a single +instant have I repented of my scheme of retirement to Lausanne.... And +though I truly rejoice in my approaching visit to England, Mr. Pitt, +were he your friend and mine, would not find it an easy task to +prevent my return.... + +I am building a great book, which, besides the three stories already +exposed to the public eye, will have three stories more before we +reach the roof and battlements. You too have built or altered a great +Gothic castle with baronial battlements. Did you finish it within the +time you intended? As that time drew near, did you not find a thousand +nameless and unexpected works that must be performed; each of them +calling for a portion of time and labour? and had you not despised, +nobly despised, the minute diligence of finishing, fitting up, and +furnishing the apartments, you would have discovered a new train of +indispensable business. Such, at least, has been my case. A long while +ago when I contemplated the distant prospect of my work, I gave you +and myself some hopes of landing in England last autumn; but, alas! +when autumn grew near, hills began to rise on hills, Alps on Alps, and +I found my journey far more tedious and toilsome than I had imagined. +When I look back on the length of the undertaking, and the variety +of materials, I cannot accuse, or suffer myself to be accused of +idleness; yet it appeared that unless I doubled my diligence, another +year, and perhaps more, would elapse before I could embark with my +complete manuscript. Under these circumstances I took, and am still +executing, a bold and meritorious resolution. The mornings in winter, +and in a country of early dinners, are very concise; to them, my usual +period of study, I now frequently add the evenings, renounce cards +and society, refuse the most agreeable evenings, or perhaps make my +appearance at a late supper. By this extraordinary industry, which I +never practised before, and to which I hope never to be again reduced, +I see the last part of my _History_ growing apace under my hands; all +my materials are collected and arranged; I can exactly compute, by +the square foot, or the square page, all that remains to be done; and +after concluding text and notes, after a general review of my time +and my ground, I now can decisively ascertain the final period of the +_Decline and Fall_, and can boldly promise that I will dine with you +at Sheffield Place in the month of August, or perhaps of July, in the +present year; within less than a twelvemonth of the term which I had +loosely and originally fixed; and perhaps it would not be easy to +find a work of that size and importance in which the workman has +so tolerably kept his word with himself and the public. But in this +situation, oppressed with this particular object, and stealing every +hour from my amusement, to the fatigue of the pen, and the eyes, you +will conceive, or you might conceive, how little stomach I have for +the epistolary style; and that instead of idle, though friendly, +correspondence, I think it far more agreeable to employ my time in +the effectual measures that may hasten and exhilarate our personal +interview.... + + + + +FRANCES D'ARBLAY + +1752-1840 + + + +TO SUSAN BURNEY + +_An excited Unknown_ + + +Chessington, 5 _July_, 1778. + +MY DEAREST SUSY, + +Don't you think there must be some wager depending among the little +curled imps who hover over us mortals, of how much flummery goes to +turn the head of an authoress? Your last communication very near did +my business; for, meeting Mr. Crisp ere I had composed myself, I 'tipt +him such a touch of the heroics' as he has not seen since the time +when I was so much celebrated for dancing _Nancy Dawson_. I absolutely +longed to treat him with one of Captain Mirvan's frolics, and to fling +his wig out of the window. I restrained myself, however, from the +apprehension that they would imagine I had a universal spite to that +harmless piece of goods, which I have already been known to treat with +no little indignity. He would fain have discovered the reason of my +skittishness; but as I could not tell it him, I was obliged to assure +him it would be lost time to inquire further into my flights, since +'true no meaning puzzles more than wit', and therefore, begging the +favour of him to 'set me down an _ass_', I suddenly retreated. + +My dear, dear Dr. Johnson! what a charming man you are! Mrs. +Cholmondeley, too, I am not merely prepared but determined to admire; +for really she has shown so much penetration and sound sense of late, +that I think she will bring about a union between Wit and Judgement, +though their separation has been so long, and though their meetings +have been so few. + +But, Mrs. Thrale! she--she is the goddess of my idolatry! What an +_éloge_ is hers!--an _éloge_ that not only delights at first, but +proves more and more flattering every time it is considered! + +I often think, when I am counting my laurels, what a pity it would +have been had I popped off in my last illness, without knowing what a +person of consequence I was!--and I sometimes think that, were I now +to have a relapse, I could never go off with so much _éclat_! I am +now at the summit of a high hill; my prospects on one side are bright, +glowing, and invitingly beautiful; but when I turn round, I perceive, +on the other side, sundry caverns, gulfs, pits, and precipices, that, +to look at, make my head giddy and my heart sick. I see about me, +indeed, many hills of far greater height and sublimity; but I have +not the strength to attempt climbing them; if I move, it must +be downwards. I have already, I fear, reached the pinnacle of my +abilities, and therefore to stand still will be my best policy. + +But there is nothing under heaven so difficult to do. Creatures who +are formed for motion _must_ move, however great their inducements to +forbear. The wisest course I could take, would be to bid an eternal +adieu to writing; then would the cry be, 'Tis pity she does not go +on!--she might do something better by and by', &c, &c. _Evelina_, as +a first and a youthful publication, has been received with the utmost +favour and lenity; but would a future attempt be treated with the same +mercy?--no, my dear Susy, quite the contrary; there would not, indeed, +be the same plea to save it; it would no longer be a young lady's +_first_ appearance in public; those who have met with less indulgence +would all peck at any second work; and even those who most encouraged +the first offspring might prove enemies to the second, by receiving +it with expectations which it could not answer: and so, between either +the friends or the foes of the eldest, the second would stand an +equally bad chance, and a million of flaws which were overlooked in +the former would be ridiculed as villainous and intolerable blunders +in the latter. + +But, though my eyes ache as I strain them to look forward, the +temptations before me are almost irresistible; and what you have +transcribed from Mrs. Thrale may, perhaps, prove my destruction. + +So you wish to have some of the sayings of the folks here about _the +book_? I am sure I owe you all the communications I can possibly give +you; but I have nothing new to offer, for the same strain prevails +here as in town; and no one will be so obliging to me as to put in a +little abuse: so that I fear you will be satiated with the sameness +of people's remarks. Yet, what can I do? if they _will_ be so +disagreeable and tiresome as to be all of one mind, how is it to +be helped? I can only advise you to follow my example, which is, to +accommodate my philosophy to their insipidity; and in this I have so +wonderfully succeeded, that I hear their commendations not merely with +patience but even with a degree of pleasure! Such, my dear Susy, is +the effect of true philosophy. + +You desire Kitty Cooke's remarks in particular. I have none to give +you, for none can I get. To the serious part she indeed listens, and +seems to think it may possibly be very fine; but she is quite lost +when the Branghtons and Madame Duval are mentioned;--she hears their +speeches very composedly, and as words of course; but when she hears +them followed by loud bursts of laughter from Hetty, Mr. Crisp, Mrs. +Gast, and Mr. Burney, she stares with the gravest amazement, and looks +so aghast, and so distressed to know where the joke can be, that I +never dare trust myself to look at her for more than an instant. Were +she to speak her thoughts, I am sure she would ask why such common +things, that pass every day, should be printed? And all the derision +with which the party in general treat the Branghtons, I can see she +feels herself, with a plentiful addition of astonishment, for the +_author_! + +By the way, not a human being here has the most remote suspicion of +the fact; I could not be more secure, were I literally unknown to +them. And there is no end to the ridiculous speeches perpetually made +to me, by all of them in turn, though quite by accident. + +'An't you sorry this sweet book is done?' said Mrs. Gast. + +A silly little laugh was the answer. + +'Ah,' said Patty, ''tis the sweetest book!--don't you think so, Miss +Burney?' + +N.B.--Answer as above. + +'Pray, Miss Fan,' says Mrs. Hamilton, 'who wrote it?' + +'Really I never heard.' + +'Cute enough that, Miss Sukey!' + +I desired Hetty to miss the verses; for I can't sit them: and I +have been obliged to hide the first volume ever since, for fear of +a discovery. But I don't know how it will end; for Mrs. Gast has +declared she shall buy it, to take it to Burford with her. + + + +TO SAMUEL CRISP + +_Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson_ + + +Streatham, _March_ 1779. + +The kindness and honours I meet with from this charming family are +greater than I can mention; sweet Mrs. Thrale hardly suffers me to +leave her a moment; and Dr. Johnson is another Daddy Crisp to me, for +he has a partial goodness to your Fannikin, that has made him sink the +comparative shortness of our acquaintance, and treat and think of me +as one who had long laid claim to him. + +If you knew these two you would love them, or I don't know you so well +as I think I do. Dr. Johnson has more fun, and comical humour, and +love of nonsense about him, than almost anybody I ever saw: I mean +when with those he likes; for otherwise, he can be as severe and +as bitter as report relates him. Mrs. Thrale has all that gaiety of +disposition and lightness of heart, which commonly belong to fifteen. +We are, therefore, merry enough, and I am frequently seized with the +same tittering and ridiculous fits as those with which I have so often +amazed and amused poor Kitty Cooke. + +One thing let me not omit of this charming woman, which I believe will +weigh with you in her favour; her political doctrine is so exactly +like yours, that it is never started but I exclaim, 'Dear ma'am, if my +Daddy Crisp was here, I believe between you, you would croak me mad!' +And this sympathy of horrible foresight not a little contributes to +incline her to believe the other parts of speech with which I regale +her concerning you. She wishes very much to know you, and I am sure +you would hit it off comfortably; but I told her what a vile taste you +had for shunning all new acquaintance, and shirking almost all your +old ones. That I may never be among the latter, heartily hopes my dear +daddy's ever affectionate and obliged, F.B. + + + +TO MRS. LOCK + +_A royal commission_ + + +Kew, _April_ 1789. + +MY DEAREST FRIENDS, + +I have her Majesty's commands to inquire--whether you have any of a +certain breed of poultry? + +N.B.--_What_ breed I do not remember. + +And to say she has just received a small group of the same herself. + +N.B.--The quantity I have forgotten. + +And to add, she is assured they are something very rare and scarce, +and extraordinary and curious. + +N.B.--By _whom_ she was assured I have not heard. + +And to subjoin, that you must send word if you have any of the same +sort. + +N.B.--How you are to find that out, I cannot tell. + +And to mention, as a corollary, that, if you have none of them, and +should like to have some, she has a cock and a hen she can spare, and +will appropriate them to Mr. Lock and my dearest Fredy. + +This conclusive stroke so pleased and exhilarated me, that forthwith +I said you would both be enchanted, and so forgot all the preceding +particulars. + +And I said, moreover, that I knew you would rear them, and cheer them, +and fondle them like your children. + +So now--pray write a very _fair answer_ fairly, in fair hand, and to +fair purpose. + +My Susanna is just now come--so all is fair with my dearest Mr. and +Mrs. Lock's F.B. + + + + +GEORGE CRABBE + +1754-1832 + + + +TO MARY LEADBEATER[1] + +_The only survivors_ + + +Trowbridge, 1st of 12th month, 1816. + +MARY LEADBEATER! + +Yes, indeed, I do well remember you! Not Leadbeater then, but a pretty +demure lass, standing a timid auditor while her own verses were read +by a kind friend, but a keen judge. And I have in my memory your +father's person and countenance, and you may be sure that my vanity +retained the compliment which he paid me in the moment when he +permitted his judgement to slip behind his good humour and desire of +giving pleasure. Yes, I remember all who were present, and, of +all, are not you and I the only survivors? It was the day--was it +not?--when I introduced my wife to my friend. And now both are gone! +and your father, and Richard Burke, who was present (yet again I must +ask,--was he not?)--and Mrs. Burke! All departed, and so, by and by, +they will speak of us. But, in the meantime, it was good of you to +write, oh, very, very good! + +But are you not your father's own daughter? Do you not flatter after +his manner? How do you know the mischief that you may do in the mind +of a vain man, who is but too susceptible of praise, even while he is +conscious of so much to be placed against it? I am glad that you like +my verses: it would have mortified me much if you had not, for you can +judge as well as write.... Yours are really very admirable things; and +the morality is as pure as the literary merit is conspicuous. I am not +sure that I have read all that you have given us; but what I have read +has really that rare and almost undefinable quality, genius; that +is to say, it seizes on the mind and commands attention, and on the +heart, and compels its feelings. + +How could you imagine that I could be otherwise than +pleased--delighted rather--with your letter? And let me not omit the +fact that I reply the instant I am at liberty, for I was enrobing +myself for church. You are a child of simplicity, I know, and do not +love robing; but you are a pupil of liberality, and look upon such +things with a large mind, smiling in charity. Well! I was putting on +the great black gown when my servant--(you see I can be pompous, to +write of gowns and servants with such familiarity)--when he brought me +a letter first directed, the words yet legible, to 'George Crabbe, +at Belvoir Castle', and then by Lord Mendip to the 'Reverend' at +Trowbridge; and at Trowbridge I hope again to receive these welcome +evidences of your remembrance, directed in all their simplicity, and +written, I trust, in all sincerity.... + +There was a Suffolk family of Alexanders, one of whom you probably +mean; and as he knew very little of me, I see no reason why he should +not give me a good character ... If it means, as it generally does, +that I paid my debts, and was guilty of no glaring world-defying +immorality--why yes!--I was so far a good character.... + +But your motive for writing to me was your desire of knowing whether +my men and women were really existing creatures, or beings of my own +imagination? Nay, Mary Leadbeater, yours was a better motive; you +thought that you should give pleasure by writing, and--yet you will +think me very vain--you felt some pleasure yourself in renewing the +acquaintance that commenced under such auspices! Am I not right? +My heart tells me that I am, and hopes that you will confirm it. +Be assured that I feel a very cordial esteem for the friend of my +friend,--the virtuous, the worthy character whom I am addressing. + +Yes, I will tell you readily about my creatures, whom I endeavoured to +paint as nearly as I could, and dared; for in some cases I dared not. +This you will readily admit; besides, charity bade me be cautious. +Thus far you are correct; there is not one of whom I had not in my +mind the original; but I was obliged in some cases to take them from +their real situations, in one or two instances to change even the sex, +and in many the circumstances. The nearest to real life was the proud +ostentatious man in _The Borough_, who disguises an ordinary mind by +doing great things; but the others approach to reality at greater or +less distances. Indeed, I do not know that I could paint merely +from my own fancy, and there is no cause why we should. Is there not +diversity sufficient in society? And who can go, even but a little, +into the assemblies of our fellow-wanderers from the way of perfect +rectitude, and not find characters so varied and so pointed that he +need not call upon his imagination? + +Will _you_ not write again? 'Write _to_ thee, or _for_ the public', +wilt thou not ask? _To_ me and _for_ as many as love and can discern +the union of strength and simplicity, purity and good sense. _Our_ +feeling and _our_ hearts is the language you can adopt. Alas, _I_ +cannot with propriety use it--_our_ I too could once say; but I am +alone now; and since my removing into a busy town among the multitude, +the loneliness is but more apparent and more melancholy. But this +is only at certain times; and then I have, though at considerable +distances, six female friends, unknown to each other, but all dear, +very dear, to me. With men I do not much associate; not as deserting, +and much less disliking, the male part of society, but as being unfit +for it; not hardy nor grave, not knowing enough, nor sufficiently +acquainted with the every-day concerns of men. But my beloved +creatures have minds with which I can better assimilate ... Think of +you I must; and of me, I must entreat that you would not be unmindful. + +[Footnote 1: Cp. letter, p. 283.] + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Comparisons_ + + +Trowbridge, 7 _Sept._ 1818. + +A description of your village society would be very gratifying to +me--how the manners differ from those in larger societies, or in +those under different circumstances. I have observed an extraordinary +difference in village manners in England, especially between those +places otherwise nearly alike, when there was and when there was not +a leading man, or a squire's family, or a manufactory near, or a +populous, vitiated town, all these, and many other circumstances have +great influence. _Your_ quiet village, with such influencing minds, +I am disposed to think highly of. No one, perhaps, very rich--none +miserably poor. No girls, from six years to sixteen, sent to a +factory, where men, women, and children of all ages are continually +with them breathing contagion. Not all, however: we are not so +evil--there is a resisting power, and it is strong; but the thing +itself, the congregation of so many minds, and the intercourse it +occasions, will have its powerful and visible effect. But these you +have not; yet, as you mention your schools of both kinds, you must +be more populous and perhaps not so happy as I was giving myself to +believe.... + +The world has not spoiled you, Mary, I do believe: now it has me. I +have been absorbed in its mighty vortex, and gone into the midst of +its greatness, and joined in its festivities and frivolities, and been +intimate with its children. You may like me very well, my kind friend, +while the purifying water, and your more effectual imagination, is +between us; but come you to England, or let me be in Ireland, and +place us where mind becomes acquainted with mind--and then! Ah, Mary +Leadbeater! you would have done with your friendship with me! Child of +simplicity and virtue, how can you let yourself be so deceived? Am +I not a great fat rector, living upon a mighty income, while my poor +curate starves with six hungry children upon the scraps that fall from +the luxurious table? Do I not visit that horrible London, and enter +into its abominable dissipations? Am not I this day going to dine on +venison and drink claret? Have I not been at election dinners, and +joined the Babel-confusion of a town hall? Child of simplicity! am I +fit to be a friend to you, and to the peaceful, mild, pure, and gentle +people about you? One thing is true--I wish I had the qualification. +But I am of the world, Mary.... + +I return all your good wishes, think of you, and with much regard, +more than, indeed, belongs to _a man of the world_! Still, let me +be permitted to address thee.--O my dear Mrs. Leadbeater, this is +so humble that I am afraid it is vain. Well! write soon, then, and +believe me to be + +Most sincerely and affectionately yours. + + + + +WILLIAM BLAKE + +1757-1827 + + + +TO JOHN FLAXMAN + +_Friends 'from eternity'_ + + +Felpham, 21 _Sept._ 1800. + +Sunday morning. + +DEAR SCULPTOR OF ETERNITY, + +We are safe arrived at our cottage, which is more beautiful than I +thought it, and more convenient. It is a perfect model for cottages, +and I think for palaces of magnificence, only enlarging not altering +its proportions, and adding ornaments and not principles. Nothing +can be more grand than its simplicity and usefulness. Simple without +intricacy, it seems to be the spontaneous expression of humanity, +congenial to the wants of man. No other formed house can ever please +me so well, nor shall I ever be persuaded, I believe, that it can be +improved either in beauty or use. + +Mr. Hayley received us with his usual brotherly affection. I have +begun to work. Felpham is a sweet place for study, because it is +more spiritual than London. Heaven opens here on all sides her golden +gates: her windows are not obstructed by vapours; voices of celestial +inhabitants are more distinctly heard, and their forms more distinctly +seen; and my cottage is also a shadow of their houses. My wife and +sister are both well, courting Neptune for an embrace. + +Our journey was very pleasant; and though we had a great deal of +luggage, no grumbling. All was cheerfulness and good humour on the +road, and yet we could not arrive at our cottage before half-past +eleven at night, owing to the necessary shifting of our luggage from +one chaise to another; for we had seven different chaises and as many +different drivers. We set out between six and seven in the morning of +Thursday, with sixteen heavy boxes and portfolios full of prints. + +And now begins a new life, because another covering of earth is +shaken off. I am more famed in heaven for my works than I could well +conceive. In my brain are studies and chambers filled with books and +pictures of old, which I wrote and painted in ages of eternity +before my mortal life; and those works are the delight and study of +archangels. Why then should I be anxious about the riches or fame of +mortality? The Lord our Father will do for us and with us according to +His divine will, for our good. + +You, O dear Flaxman! are a sublime archangel,--my friend and companion +from eternity. In the divine bosom is our dwelling-place. I look back +into the regions of reminiscence, and behold our ancient days before +this earth appeared in its vegetated mortality to my mortal vegetated +eyes. I see our houses of eternity which can never be separated, +though our mortal vehicles should stand at the remotest corners of +heaven from each other. + +Farewell, my best friend! Remember me and my wife in love and +friendship to our dear Mrs. Flaxman, whom we ardently desire to +entertain beneath our thatched roof of rusted gold. + + + +TO THOMAS BUTTS + +_Trouble in the path_ + + +Felpham, 10 _Jan._ 1802. + +Dear Sir, + +Your very kind and affectionate letter, and the many kind things you +have said in it, called upon me for an immediate answer. But it found +my wife and myself so ill, and my wife so very ill, that till now I +have not been able to do this duty. The ague and rheumatism have been +almost her constant enemies, which she has combated in vain almost +ever since we have been here, and her sickness is always my sorrow, +of course. But what you tell me about your sight afflicted me not a +little, and that about your health, in another part of your letter, +makes me entreat you to take due care of both. It is a part of our +duty to God and man to take due care of His gifts; and though we ought +not to think _more_ highly of ourselves, yet we ought to think _as_ +highly of ourselves as immortals ought to think. + +When I came down here, I was more sanguine than I am at present; +but it was because I was ignorant of many things which have since +occurred, and chiefly the unhealthiness of the place. Yet I do not +repent of coming on a thousand accounts; and Mr. Hayley, I doubt not, +will do ultimately all that both he and I wish--that is, to lift me +out of difficulty. But this is no easy matter to a man who, having +spiritual enemies of such formidable magnitude, cannot expect to want +natural hidden ones. + +Your approbation of my pictures is a multitude to me, and I doubt not +that all your kind wishes in my behalf shall in due time be fulfilled. +Your kind offer of pecuniary assistance I can only thank you for at +present, because I have enough to serve my present purpose here. Our +expenses are small, and our income, from our incessant labour, fully +adequate to these at present. I am now engaged in engraving six small +plates for a new edition of Mr. Hayley's _Triumphs of Temper_, from +drawings by Maria Flaxman, sister to my friend the sculptor. And it +seems that other things will follow in course, if I do but copy these +well. But patience! If great things do not turn out, it is because +such things depend on the spiritual and not on the natural world; and +if it was fit for me, I doubt not that I should be employed in greater +things; and when it is proper, my talents shall be properly exercised +in public, as I hope they are now in private. For till then I leave no +stone unturned, and no path unexplored that leads to improvement in +my beloved arts. One thing of real consequence I have accomplished by +coming into the country, which is to me consolation enough: namely, +I have re-collected all my scattered thoughts on art, and resumed +my primitive and original ways of execution in both painting and +engraving, which in the confusion of London I had very much lost and +obliterated from my mind. But whatever becomes of my labours, I would +rather that they should be preserved in your greenhouse (not, as you +mistakenly call it, dunghill) than in the cold gallery of fashion. The +sun may yet shine, and then they will be brought into open air. + +But you have so generously and openly desired that I will divide my +griefs with you that I cannot hide what it has now become my duty to +explain. My unhappiness has arisen from a source which, if explored +too narrowly, might hurt my pecuniary circumstances; as my dependence +is on engraving at present, and particularly on the engravings I have +in hand for Mr. Hayley, and I find on all hands great objections to +my doing anything but the mere drudgery of business, and intimations +that, if I do not confine myself to this, I shall not live. This has +always pursued me. You will understand by this the source of all my +uneasiness. This from Johnson and Fuseli brought me down here, and +this from Mr. Hayley will bring me back again. For that I cannot live +without doing my duty to lay up treasures in heaven is certain and +determined, and to this I have long made up my mind. And why this +should be made an objection to me, while drunkenness, lewdness, +gluttony, and even idleness itself, does not hurt other men, let Satan +himself explain. The thing I have most at heart--more than life, or +all that seems to make life comfortable without--is the interest of +true religion and science. And whenever anything appears to affect +that interest (especially if I myself omit any duty to my station as +a soldier of Christ), it gives me the greatest of torments. I am not +ashamed, afraid, or averse to tell you what ought to be told--that I +am under the direction of messengers from heaven, daily and nightly. +But the nature of such things is not, as some suppose, without trouble +or care. Temptations are on the right hand and on the left. Behind, +the sea of time and space roars and follows swiftly. He who keeps not +right onwards is lost; and if our footsteps slide in clay, how can we +do otherwise than fear and tremble? But I should not have troubled you +with this account of my spiritual state, unless it had been necessary +in explaining the actual cause of my uneasiness, into which you are so +kind as to inquire: for I never obtrude such things on others unless +questioned, and then I never disguise the truth. But if we fear to do +the dictates of our angels, and tremble at the tasks set before us; +if we refuse to do spiritual acts because of natural fears or natural +desires; who can describe the dismal torments of such a state!--I +too well remember the threats I heard!--'If you, who are organized +by Divine Providence for spiritual communion, refuse, and bury +your talent in the earth, even though you should want natural +bread,--sorrow and desperation pursue you through life, and after +death shame and confusion of face to eternity. Every one in eternity +will leave you, aghast at the man who was crowned with glory and +honour by his brethren, and betrayed their cause to their enemies. You +will be called the base Judas who betrayed his friend!'--Such words +would make any stout man tremble, and how then could I be at ease? But +I am now no longer in that state, and now go on again with my task, +fearless though my path is difficult. I have no fear of stumbling +while I keep it. + +My wife desires her kindest love to Mrs. Butts, and I have permitted +her to send it to you also. We often wish that we could unite again +in society, and hope that the time is not distant when we shall do so, +being determined not to remain another winter here, but to return to +London. + + I hear a Voice you cannot hear, that says + I must not stay, + I see a Hand you cannot see, that beckons + me away. + +Naked we came here--naked of natural things--and naked we shall +return: but while clothed with the Divine mercy, we are richly clothed +in spiritual, and suffer all the rest gladly. Pray, give my love to +Mrs. Butts and your family. + +PS. Your obliging proposal of exhibiting my two pictures likewise +calls for my thanks; I will finish the others, and then we shall judge +of the matter with certainty. + + + +To THE SAME + +_The wonderful poem_ + + +(Felpham), 25 _April_, 1803. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +I write in haste, having received a pressing letter from my Brother. +I intended to have sent the Picture of the _Riposo_, which is nearly +finished much to my satisfaction, but not quite. You shall have it +soon. I now send the four numbers for Mr. Birch with best respects to +him. The reason the _Ballads_ have been suspended is the pressure of +other business, but they will go on again soon. + +Accept of my thanks for your kind and heartening letter. You have +faith in the endeavours of me, your weak brother and fellow-disciple; +how great must be your faith in our Divine Master! You are to me +a lesson of humility, while you exalt me by such distinguishing +commendations. I know that you see certain merits in me, which, by +God's grace, shall be made fully apparent and perfect in Eternity. +In the meantime I must not bury the talents in the earth, but do my +endeavour to live to the glory of our Lord and Saviour; and I am +also grateful to the kind hand that endeavours to lift me out of +despondency, even if it lifts me too high. + +And now, my dear Sir, congratulate me on my return to London with the +full approbation of Mr. Hayley and with promise. But alas! now I may +say to you--what perhaps I should not dare to say to anyone else--that +I can alone carry on my visionary studies in London unannoyed, and +that I may converse with my friends in Eternity, see visions, dream +dreams, and prophesy and speak parables, unobserved, and at liberty +from the doubts of other mortals: perhaps doubts proceeding from +kindness; but doubts are always pernicious, especially when we doubt +our friends. Christ is very decided on this point: 'He who is not with +me is against me.' There is no medium or middle state; and if a man is +the enemy of my spiritual life while he pretends to be the friend of +my corporeal, he is a real enemy; but the man may be the friend of my +spiritual life while he seems the enemy of my corporeal, though not +vice versa. + +What is very pleasant, every one who hears of my going to London again +applauds it as the only course for the interest of all concerned in +my works; observing that I ought not to be away from the opportunities +London affords of seeing fine pictures, and the various improvements +in works of art going on in London. + +But none can know the spiritual acts of my three years' slumber on the +banks of Ocean, unless he has seen them in the spirit, or unless he +should read my long Poem descriptive of those acts; for I have in +these years composed an immense number of verses on one grand theme, +similar to Homer's _Iliad_ or Milton's _Paradise Lost_; the persons +and machinery entirely new to the inhabitants of earth (some of the +persons excepted). I have written this Poem from immediate dictation, +twelve or sometimes twenty or thirty lines at a time, without +premeditation, and even against my will. The time it has taken in +writing was thus rendered nonexistent, and an immense Poem exists +which seems to be the labour of a long life, all produced without +labour or study. I mention this to show you what I think the grand +reason of my being brought down here. + +I have a thousand and ten thousand things to say to you. My heart +is full of futurity. I perceive that the sore travail which has been +given me these three years leads to glory and honour. I rejoice and +tremble: 'I am fearfully and wonderfully made.' I had been reading the +CXXXIX Psalm a little before your letter arrived. I take your advice. +I see the face of my Heavenly Father; He lays His hand upon my head, +and gives a blessing to all my work. Why should I be troubled? Why +should my heart and flesh cry out? I will go on in the strength of the +Lord; through Hell will I sing forth His praises: that the dragons of +the deep may praise Him, and that those who dwell in darkness, and in +the sea coasts may be gathered into His Kingdom. Excuse my perhaps too +great enthusiasm. Please to accept of and give our loves to Mrs. Butts +and your amiable family, and believe me ever yours affectionately. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The poet and William Hayley_ + + +Felpham, 6 _July_, 1803. + +... We look forward every day with pleasure toward our meeting again +in London with those whom we have learned to value by absence no less +perhaps than we did by presence; for recollection often surpasses +everything. Indeed, the prospect of returning to our friends is +supremely delightful. Then, I am determined that Mrs. Butts shall have +a good likeness of you, if I have hands and eyes left; for I am become +a likeness-taker, and succeed admirably well. But this is not to be +achieved without the original sitting before you for every touch, all +likenesses from memory being necessarily very, very defective; but +Nature and Fancy are two things, and can never be joined, neither +ought any one to attempt it, for it is idolatry, and destroys the +Soul. + +I ought to tell you that Mr. H. is quite agreeable to our return, +and that there is all the appearance in the world of our being fully +employed in engraving for his projected works, particularly Cowper's +_Milton_--a work now on foot by subscription, and I understand that +the subscription goes on briskly. This work is to be a very elegant +one, and to consist of all Milton's Poems with Cowper's Notes, and +translations by Cowper from Milton's Latin and Italian poems. These +works will be ornamented with engravings from designs by Romney, +Flaxman, and your humble servant, and to be engraved also by +the last-mentioned. The profits of the work are intended to be +appropriated to erect a monument to the memory of Cowper in St. Paul's +or Westminster Abbey. Such is the project; and Mr. Addington and Mr. +Pitt are both among the subscribers, which are already numerous and of +the first rank. The price of the work is six guineas. Thus I hope that +all our three years' trouble ends in good-luck at last, and shall be +forgot by my affections, and only remembered by my understanding, to +be a memento in time to come, and to speak to future generations by a +sublime allegory, which is now perfectly completed into a grand Poem. +I may praise it, since I dare not pretend to be any other than the +secretary; the authors are in Eternity. I consider it as the grandest +Poem that this world contains. Allegory addressed to the +intellectual powers, while it is altogether hidden from the corporeal +understanding, is my definition of the most sublime Poetry. It is +also somewhat in the same manner defined by Plato. This Poem shall, +by Divine assistance, be progressively printed and ornamented with +prints, and given to the public. But of this work I take care to say +little to Mr. H., since he is as much averse to my Poetry as he is to +a chapter in the Bible. He knows that I have writ it, for I have shown +it to him, and he has read part by his own desire, and has looked with +sufficient contempt to enhance my opinion of it. But I do not wish to +imitate by seeming too obstinate in poetic pursuits. But if all the +world should set their faces against this, I have orders to set my +face like a flint (Ezek. iii. 8) against their faces, and my forehead +against their foreheads. + +As to Mr. H., I feel myself at liberty to say as follows upon this +ticklish subject. I regard fashion in Poetry as little as I do in +Painting: so, if both Poets and Painters should alternately dislike +(but I know the majority of them will not), I am not to regard it +at all. But Mr. H. approves of my Designs as little as he does of my +Poems, and I have been forced to insist on his leaving me, in both, +to my own self-will; for I am determined to be no longer pestered with +his genteel ignorance and polite disapprobation. I know myself both +Poet and Painter, and it is not his affected contempt that can move to +anything but a more assiduous pursuit of both arts. Indeed, by my late +firmness, I have brought down his affected loftiness, and he begins +to think I have some genius: as if genius and assurance were the same +thing! But his imbecile attempts to depress me only deserve laughter. +I say thus much to you, knowing that you will not make a bad use of +it. But it is a fact too true that, if I had only depended on mortal +things, both myself and my wife must have been lost. I shall leave +every one in this country astonished at my patience and forbearance +of injuries upon injuries; and I do assure you that, if I could have +returned to London a month after my arrival here, I should have done +so. But I was commanded by my spiritual friends to bear all and be +silent, and to go through all without murmuring, and, in fine, to hope +till my three years should be almost accomplished; at which time I was +set at liberty to remonstrate against former conduct, and to demand +justice and truth; which I have done in so effectual a manner that my +antagonist is silenced completely, and I have compelled what should +have been of freedom--my just right as an artist and as a man. And +if any attempt should be made to refuse me this, I am inflexible, and +will relinquish any engagement of designing at all, unless altogether +left to my own judgement, as you, my dear friend, have always left me; +for which I shall never cease to honour and respect you. + +When we meet, I will perfectly describe to you my conduct and the +conduct of others towards me, and you will see that I have laboured +hard indeed, and have been borne on angels' wings. Till we meet I beg +of God our Saviour to be with you and me, and yours and mine. Pray +give my and my wife's love to Mrs. Butts and family, and believe me to +remain + +Yours in truth and sincerity. + + + + +MARY LEADBEATER + +1758-1826 + + + +TO EDMUND BURKE + +_Reply to his last letter_ + + +28 _May_, 1797. + +With a heart melted to overflowing, I cannot restrain the attempt to +express my grateful sensations on receiving the greatest, and, alas! +I fear, the last proof of that unvarying friendship with which our +ever-loved, our ever-honoured friend has favoured us! I may transgress +the bounds by intruding at this awful period; but I cannot help it. My +affection and my sorrow will be excused, I believe, for thou hast ever +looked kindly and partially upon me, and so has thy beloved wife, with +whose feelings I sympathize, could that avail. This day's post brought +me thy letter of the 23rd instant, dictated and signed by thee. Such +attention, at such a time, and in such a situation! It was like Edmund +Burke! It was like few others, but it is not bestowed upon hearts who +do not feel it.--I look back on that friendship formed in the precious +days of innocent childhood, between thee and my lamented parent.--I +trace its progress, which is so imprinted on my mind, that I almost +seem to myself to have been a witness to it.--I see it continue +unabated, notwithstanding the different sphere of life in which you +moved, to the period of it;--and may we not hope that there is an +union of souls beyond the grave? The composure and fortitude displayed +in thy letter, is the greatest consolation we could receive with the +tidings it conveyed of thy health. Since thou dost not allow us to +hope for its restoration, we will hope better things than is in the +power of this world to bestow.--My mother appears to decline, and +looks to the end of her race as near. All the other branches of +this family, I believe, are well in health. My brother continues +the school, which, I believe, was never in higher estimation than at +present. My husband regrets very much that he never shared with us +the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with thee. We all unite in +cordial, unaffected love to thee. I thought I would say how we were, +believing thou would be pleased to hear of our welfare, though how +long that may be continued, seems doubtful.--The general fermentation +throughout this nation, forebodes some sudden and dreadful eruption, +and, however obscure or retired our situations may be, there is little +prospect of escaping the calamity. This may cause us to admire, nay, +adore the mercy, as well as wisdom of Him, who gives and takes life, +in removing those so dear to us from the evil to come. My mother +desires thou may accept as much love as she is capable of sending +thee; her heart is full of it towards thee; and she bids me say, she +hopes thou hast lived such a life, that thy end will be crowned with +peace! So be it, with my whole heart! Thy affectionate and obliged +friend. + +Our best wishes, and dear love to thy wife. + +Abraham Shackleton has the melancholy satisfaction of perusing dear +Edmund Burke's account of his poor state of health. He hopes (trusts) +that a quiet resting place is prepared for him. The memory of E. +Burke's philanthropic virtues will out-live the period when his +shining political talents will cease to act. New fashions of political +sentiment will exist; but philanthropy,--_immortale manet!_ + + + +TO GEORGE CRABBE + +_She writes to remind him_ + + +Ballitore, 7th of Eleventh-month, 1816. + +I believe it will surprise George Crabbe to receive a letter from an +entire stranger, whom most probably he does not remember to have ever +seen or heard of, but who cannot forget having met him at the house of +Edmund Burke, Charles Street, James's Square, in the year 1784. I +was brought thither by my father, Richard Shackleton, the friend +from their childhood of Edmund Burke. My dear father told thee that +Goldsmith's would now be the _deserted village_; perhaps thou dost not +remember this compliment, but I remember the ingenuous modesty which +disclaimed it. He admired '_The Village', 'The Library_,' and '_The +Newspaper_' exceedingly, and the delight with which he read them to +his family could not but be acceptable to the author, had he known +the sound judgement and the exquisite taste which that excellent +man possessed. But he saw no more of the productions of the Muse he +admired; whose originality was not the least charm. He is dead--the +friend whom he loved and honoured, and to whose character thou dost so +much justice in the preface to '_The Parish_ _Register_', is also gone +to the house appointed for all living. A splendid constellation of +poets arose in the literary horizon; I looked around for Crabbe. Why +does not he, who shines as brightly as any of these, add his lustre? +I had not long thought thus when, in an Edinburgh Review, I met +with reflections similar to my own, which introduced '_The Parish +Register_'. Oh, it was like the voice of a long-lost friend, and glad +was I to hear that voice again in '_The Borough_'!--still more in +'_The Tales_,' which appear to me excelling all that preceded them! +Every work is so much in unison with our own feelings, that a wish for +information concerning them and their author is strongly excited. + +One of our friends, Dykes Alexander, who was in Ballitore in 1810, I +think, said he was personally acquainted with thee, and spoke highly +of thy character. I regretted I had not an opportunity of conversing +with him on this subject, as perhaps he would have been able to decide +arguments which have arisen; namely, whether we owe to truth or to +fiction that 'ever new delight' which thy poetry affords us. The +characters, however singular some of them may be, are never unnatural, +and thy sentiments so true to domestic and social feelings, as well as +to those of a higher nature, have the convincing power of reality +over the mind, and _I_ maintain that all thy pictures _are drawn from +life_. To inquire whether this be the case is the excuse which I make +to myself for writing this letter. I wish the excuse may be accepted +by thee, for I greatly fear I have taken an unwarrantable liberty in +making the inquiry. Though advanced in life, yet from an education of +peculiar simplicity, and from never having been long absent from my +retired native village, I am too little acquainted with decorum. If I +have now transgressed the rules it prescribes, I appeal to the candour +and liberality of thy mind to forgive a fault caused by a strong +enthusiasm. + +PS. Ballitore is the village in which Edmund Burke was educated by +Abraham Shackleton, whose pupil he became in 1741, and from whose +school he entered the college of Dublin in 1744. The school is still +flourishing. + + + + +ROBERT BURNS + +1759-1796 + + + +TO MISS CHALMERS + +_Marriage with Jean_ + + +Ellisland, near Dumfries, 16 _Sept_. 1788. + +Where are you? and how are you? and is Lady M'Kenzie recovering her +health? for I have had but one solitary letter from you. I will not +think you have forgot me, Madam; and for my part-- + + When thee, Jerusalem, I forget, + Skill part from my right hand! + +'My heart is not of that rock, nor my soul careless as that sea.' I +do not make my progress among mankind as a bowl does among its +fellows--rolling through the crowd without bearing away any mark or +impression, except where they hit in hostile collision. + +I am here, driven in with my harvest-folks by bad weather; and as you +and your sister once did me the honour of interesting yourselves +much _à l'égard de moi_, I sit down to beg the continuation of your +goodness.--I can truly say that, all the exterior of life apart, +I never saw two, whose esteem flattered the nobler feelings of my +soul--I will not say, more, but so much as Lady M'Kenzie and Miss +Chalmers. When I think of you--hearts the best, minds the noblest, of +human kind--unfortunate, even in the shades of life--when I think I +have met with you, and have lived more of real life with you in +eight days, than I can do with almost any body I meet with in eight +years--when I think on the improbability of meeting you in this world +again--I could sit down and cry like a child!--If ever you honoured me +with a place in your esteem, I trust I can now plead more desert.--I +am secure against that crushing grip of iron poverty, which, alas! +is less or more fatal to the native worth and purity of, I fear, the +noblest souls; and a late, important step in my life has kindly taken +me out of the way of those ungrateful iniquities, which, however +overlooked in fashionable license, or varnished in fashionable phrase, +are indeed but lighter and deeper shades of VILLAINY. + +Shortly after my last return to Ayrshire, I married 'my Jean'. This +was not in consequence of the attachment of romance perhaps; but I +had a long and much-loved fellow creature's happiness or misery in my +determination, and I durst not trifle with so important a deposit. Nor +have I any cause to repent it. If I have not got polite tattle, modish +manners, and fashionable dress, I am not sickened and disgusted with +the multiform curse of boarding-school affectation; and I have got the +handsomest figure, the sweetest temper, the soundest constitution, and +the kindest heart in the county. Mrs. Burns believes, as firmly as her +creed, that I am _le plus bel esprit, et le plus honnête homme_ in +the universe; although she scarcely ever in her life, except the +Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, and the Psalms of David in +metre, spent five minutes together on either prose or verse. + +I must except also from this last, a certain late publication of Scots +poems, which she has perused very devoutly; and all the ballads in +the country, as she has (O the partial lover! you will cry) the finest +'wood-note wild' I ever heard.--I am the more particular in this +lady's character, as I know she will henceforth have the honour of a +share in your best wishes. She is still at Mauchline, as I am building +my house; for this hovel that I shelter in, while occasionally here, +is pervious to every blast that blows, and every shower that falls; +and I am only preserved from being chilled to death, by being +suffocated with smoke. I do not find my farm that pennyworth I was +taught to expect, but I believe, in time, it may be a saving bargain. +You will be pleased to hear that I have laid aside idle _éclat_, and +bind every day after my reapers. + +To save me from that horrid situation of at any time going down, in +a losing bargain of a farm, to misery, I have taken my excise +instructions, and have my commission in my pocket for any emergency +of fortune. If I could set _all_ before your view, whatever disrespect +you in common with the world, have for this business, I know you would +approve of my idea. + +I will make no apology, dear Madam, for this egotistic detail: I know +you and your sister will be interested in every circumstance of it. +What signify the silly, idle gewgaws of wealth, or the ideal trumpery +of greatness! When fellow partakers of the same nature fear the same +God, have the same benevolence of heart, the same nobleness of soul, +the same detestation at every thing dishonest, and the same scorn at +every thing unworthy--if they are not in the dependance of absolute +beggary, in the name of common sense are they not EQUALS? And if the +bias, the instinctive bias of their souls run the same way, why may +they not be FRIENDS?... + + + +TO MR. ROBERT AINSLIE + +_A gauger_ + + +Ellisland, 1 _Nov_. 1789. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +I had written you long ere now, could I have guessed where to find +you, for I am sure you have more good sense than to waste the precious +days of vacation time in the dirt of business and Edinburgh. Wherever +you are, God bless you, and lead you not into temptation, but deliver +you from evil! + +I do not know if I have informed you that I am now appointed to an +excise division, in the middle of which my house and farm lie. In this +I was extremely lucky. Without ever having been an expectant, as they +call their journeymen excisemen, I was directly planted down to all +intents and purposes an officer of excise; there to flourish and bring +forth fruits--worthy of repentance. + +I know not how the word exciseman, or still more opprobrious, gauger, +will sound in your ears. I too have seen the day when my auditory +nerves would have felt very delicately on this subject; but a wife +and children are things which have a wonderful power in blunting these +kind of sensations. Fifty pounds a year for life, and a provision for +widows and orphans, you will allow is no bad settlement for a _poet_. +For the ignominy of the profession, I have the encouragement which +I once heard a recruiting sergeant give to a numerous, if not a +respectable audience, in the streets of Kilmarnock.--'Gentlemen, +for your further and better encouragement, I can assure you that +our regiment is the most blackguard corps under the crown, and +consequently with us an honest fellow has the surest chance for +preferment.' + +You need not doubt that I find several very unpleasant and +disagreeable circumstances in my business; but I am tired with and +disgusted at the language of complaint against the evils of life. +Human existence in the most favourable situations does not abound with +pleasures, and has its inconveniences and ills; capricious foolish man +mistakes these inconveniences and ills as if they were the peculiar +property of his particular situation; and hence that eternal +fickleness, that love of change, which has ruined, and daily does +ruin many a fine fellow, as well as many a blockhead; and is, almost +without exception, a constant source of disappointment and misery.... + + + +TO FRANCIS GROSE + +_Witch tales_ + + +Dumfries, 1792. + +Among the many witch stories I have heard relating to Alloway Kirk, I +distinctly remember only two or three. + +Upon a stormy night, amid whistling squalls of wind and bitter blasts +of hail--in short, on such a night as the devil would choose to take +the air in--a farmer, or farmer's servant, was plodding and plashing +homeward, with his plough irons on his shoulder, having been getting +some repairs on them at a neighbouring smithy. His way lay by the Kirk +of Alloway, and being rather on the anxious look-out in approaching +a place so well known to be a favourite haunt of the devil and the +devil's friends and emissaries, he was struck aghast by discovering +through the horrors of the storm and stormy night a light, which, on +his nearer approach, plainly showed itself to proceed from the haunted +edifice. Whether he had been fortified from above, on his devout +supplication, as is customary with people when they suspect the +immediate presence of Satan; or whether, according to another custom, +he had got courageously drunk at the smithy, I will not pretend to +determine; but so it was that he ventured to go up to, nay, into, the +very kirk. As luck would have it, his temerity came off unpunished. + +The members of the infernal junto were all out on some midnight +business or other, and he saw nothing but a kind of kettle or +cauldron, depending from the roof over the fire, simmering some heads +of unchristened children, limbs of executed malefactors, &c., for the +business of the night. It was in for a penny, in for a pound, with the +honest ploughman; so, without ceremony, he unhooked the cauldron from +off the fire, and pouring out the damnable ingredients, inverted it +on his head, and carried it fairly home, where it remained long in the +family, a living evidence of the truth of the story. + +Another story, which I can prove to be equally authentic, was as +follows: On a market day, in the town of Ayr, a farmer from Carrick, +and consequently whose way lay by the very gate of Alloway Kirkyard, +in order to cross the river Doon at the old bridge, which is about +two or three hundred yards further on than the said gate, had been +detained by his business, till by the time he reached Alloway it was +the wizard hour between night and morning. + +Though he was terrified with a blaze streaming from the kirk, yet +as it is a well-known fact that to turn back on these occasions is +running by far the greatest risk of mischief, he prudently advanced +on his road. When he had reached the gate of the kirkyard he was +surprised and entertained through the ribs and arches of an old Gothic +window which still faces the highway, to see a dance of witches, +merrily footing it round their old sooty blackguard master, who was +keeping them all alive with the power of his bagpipe. The farmer, +stopping his horse to observe them a little, could plainly descry the +faces of many old women of his acquaintance and neighbourhood. How the +gentleman was dressed tradition does not say, but that the ladies were +all in their smocks; and one of them, happening unluckily to have a +smock which was considerably too short to answer all the purposes of +that piece of dress, our farmer was so tickled that he involuntarily +burst out with a loud laugh: 'Weel luppen, Maggy wi' the short sark!' +and recollecting himself, instantly spurred his horse to the top of +his speed. I need not mention the universally known fact, that no +diabolical power can pursue you beyond the middle of a running stream. +Lucky it was for the poor farmer that the river Doon was so near, for, +notwithstanding the speed of his horse, which was a good one, against +he reached the middle of the arch of the bridge, and consequently the +middle of the stream, the pursuing vengeful hags were so close at his +heels, that one of them actually sprang to seize him; but it was too +late, nothing was on her side of the stream but the horse's tail, +which immediately gave way at her infernal grip, as if blasted by a +stroke of lightning; but the farmer was beyond her reach. However, the +unsightly tailless condition of the vigorous steed was, to the last +hour of the noble creature's life, an awful warning to the Carrick +farmer not to stay too late in Ayr markets. + +The last relation I shall give you, though equally true, is not so +well identified as the two former, with regard to the scene; but as +the best authorities give it for Alloway, I shall relate it. + +On a summer's evening, about the time that nature puts on her sables +to mourn the expiry of the cheerful day, a shepherd boy, belonging +to a farmer in the immediate neighbourhood of Alloway Kirk, had just +folded his charge and was returning home. As he passed the kirk, in +the adjoining field, he fell in with a crew of men and women, who +were busy pulling stems of the plant ragwort. He observed that as each +person pulled a ragwort, he or she got astride of it, and called out, +'Up, horsie', on which the ragwort flew off, like Pegasus, through the +air, with its rider. The foolish boy likewise pulled his ragwort and +cried with the rest, 'Up, horsie', and, strange to tell, away he flew +with the company. The first stage at which the cavalcade stopped was +a merchant's wine-cellar in Bordeaux, where, without saying by your +leave, they quaffed away at the best the cellar could afford, until +the morning, foe to the imps and works of darkness, threatened to +throw light on the matter, and frightened them from their carousals. + +The poor shepherd lad, being equally a stranger to the scene and the +liquor, heedlessly got himself drunk; and when the rest took horse he +fell asleep, and was found so next day by some of the people belonging +to the merchant. Somebody that understood Scotch, asking him what he +was, he said he was such-a-one's herd in Alloway, and by some means or +other getting home again, he lived long to tell the world the wondrous +tale. + + + + +WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + +1770-1850 + + + +TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT + +_A brother's character_ + + +Grasmere, 20 _Feb_. 1805. + +Having spoken of worldly affairs, let me again mention my beloved +brother. It is now just five years since, after a separation of +fourteen years (I may call it a separation, for we only saw him four +or five times, and by glimpses), he came to visit his sister and me +in this cottage, and passed eight blessed months with us. He was then +waiting for the command of the ship to which he was appointed when he +quitted us. As you will have seen, we had little to live upon, and he +as little (Lord Lonsdale being then alive). But he encouraged me to +persist, and to keep my eye steady on its object. He would work for me +(that was his language), for me and his sister; and I was to endeavour +to do something for the world. He went to sea, as commander, with +this hope; his voyage was very unsuccessful, he having lost by it +considerably. When he came home, we chanced to be in London, and saw +him. 'Oh!' said he, 'I have thought of you, and nothing but you; if +ever of myself, and my bad success, it was only on your account.' He +went again to sea a second time, and also was unsuccessful; still +with the same hopes on our account, though then not so necessary, +Lord Lowther having paid the money. Lastly came the lamentable voyage, +which he entered upon, full of expectation, and love to his sister +and myself, and my wife, whom, indeed, he loved with all a brother's +tenderness. This is the end of his part of the agreement--of his +efforts for my welfare! God grant me life and strength to fulfil mine! +I shall never forget him--never lose sight of him: there is a bond +between us yet, the same as if he were living, nay, far more sacred, +calling upon me to do my utmost, as he to the last did his utmost +to live in honour and worthiness. Some of the newspapers carelessly +asserted that he did not wish to survive his ship. This is false. He +was heard by one of the surviving officers giving orders, with all +possible calmness, a very little before the ship went down; and when +he could remain at his post no longer, then, and not till then, +he attempted to save himself. I knew this would be so, but it was +satisfactory for me to have it confirmed by external evidence. Do not +think our grief unreasonable. Of all human beings whom I ever knew, he +was the man of the most rational desires, the most sedate habits, and +the most perfect self-command. He was modest and gentle, and shy even +to disease; but this was wearing off. In everything his judgements +were sound and original; his taste in all the arts, music and poetry +in particular (for these he, of course, had had the best opportunities +of being familiar with), was exquisite; and his eye for the beauties +of nature was as fine and delicate as ever poet or painter was gifted +with, in some discriminations, owing to his education and way of life, +far superior to any person's I ever knew. But, alas! what avails it? +It was the will of God that he should be taken away.... + +I trust in God that I shall not want fortitude; but my loss is great +and irreparable.... + + + +TO WALTER SCOTT + +_Dryden_ + + +Patterdale, 7 _Nov_. 1805. + +MY DEAR SCOTT, + +I was much pleased to hear of your engagement with Dryden: not that he +is, as a poet, any great favourite of mine: I admire his talents and +genius highly, but his is not a poetical genius. The only qualities +I can find in Dryden that are _essentially_ poetical, are a certain +ardour and impetuosity of mind, with an excellent ear. It may seem +strange that I do not add to this, great command of language: _that_ +he certainly has, and of such language too, as it is most desirable +that a poet should possess, or rather that he should not be without. +But it is not language that is, in the highest sense of the word, +poetical, being neither of the imagination nor of the passions; I mean +the amiable, the ennobling, or the intense passions. I do not mean to +say that there is nothing of this in Dryden, but as little, I think, +as is possible, considering how much he has written. You will easily +understand my meaning, when I refer to his versification of _Palamon +and Arcite_, as contrasted with the language of Chaucer. Dryden had +neither a tender heart nor a lofty sense of moral dignity. Whenever +his language is poetically impassioned, it is mostly upon unpleasing +subjects, such as the follies, vices, and crimes of classes of men or +of individuals, That his cannot be the language of imagination, must +have necessarily followed from this,--that there is not a single image +from nature in the whole body of his works; and in his translation +from Virgil, wherever Virgil can be fairly said to have had his _eye_ +upon his object, Dryden always spoils the passage. + +But too much of this; I am glad that you are to be his editor. +His political and satirical pieces may be greatly benefited by +illustration, and even absolutely require it. A correct text is the +first object of an editor, then such notes as explain difficult or +obscure passages; and lastly, which is much less important, notes +pointing out authors to whom the poet has been indebted, not in the +fiddling way of phrase here and phrase there, (which is detestable as +a general practice), but where he has had essential obligations either +as to matter or manner. + +If I can be of any use to you, do not fail to apply to me. One thing +I may take the liberty to suggest, which is, when you come to the +fables, might it not be advisable to print the whole of the Tales of +Boccace in a smaller type in the original language? If this should +look too much like swelling a book, I should certainly make such +extracts as would show where Dryden has most strikingly improved upon, +or fallen below, his original. I think his translations from Boccace +are the best, at least the most poetical, of his poems. It is many +years since I saw Boccace, but I remember that Sigismunda is not +married by him to Guiscard (the names are different in Boccace in both +tales, I believe--certainly in Theodore, &c.). I think Dryden has much +injured the story by the marriage, and degraded Sigismunda's character +by it. He has also, to the best of my remembrance, degraded her still +more, by making her love absolute sensuality and appetite; Dryden had +no other notion of the passion. With all these defects, and they are +very gross ones, it is a noble poem. Guiscard's answer, when first +reproached by Tancred, is noble in Boccace--nothing but this: _Amor +può molto più che ne voi ne io possiamo_. This, Dryden has spoiled. He +says first very well, 'the faults of love by love are justified,' and +then come four lines of miserable rant, quite _à la Maximin_. + + + +TO LADY BEAUMONT + +_The destiny of his poems_ + + +Coleorton, 21 _May_, 1807. + +MY DEAR LADY BEAUMONT, + +Though I am to see you so soon, I cannot but write a word or two, to +thank you for the interest you take in my poems, as evinced by your +solicitude about their immediate reception. I write partly to thank +you for this, and to express the pleasure it has given me, and partly +to remove any uneasiness from your mind which the disappointments you +sometimes meet with, in this labour of love, may occasion. I see that +you have many battles to fight for me--more than, in the ardour and +confidence of your pure and elevated mind, you had ever thought of +being summoned to; but be assured that this opposition is nothing more +than what I distinctly foresaw that you and my other friends would +have to encounter. I say this, not to give myself credit for an eye of +prophecy, but to allay any vexatious thoughts on my account which this +opposition may have produced in you. + +It is impossible that any expectations can be lower than mine +concerning the immediate effect of this little work upon what is +called the public. I do not here take into consideration the envy and +malevolence, and all the bad passions which always stand in the way of +a work of any merit from a living poet; but merely think of the pure, +absolute, honest ignorance in which all worldlings of every rank and +situation must be enveloped, with respect to the thoughts, feelings +and images on which the life of my poems depends. The things which I +have taken, whether from within or without, what have they to do with +routs, dinners, morning calls, hurry from door to door, from street to +street, on foot or in carriage; with Mr. Pitt or Mr. Fox, Mr. Paul +or Sir Francis Burdett, the Westminster election or the borough of +Honiton? In a word--for I cannot stop to make my way through the hurry +of images that present themselves to me--what have they to do with the +endless talking about things nobody cares anything for except as far +as their own vanity is concerned, and this with persons they care +nothing for but as their vanity or _selfishness_ is concerned?--what +have they to do (to say all at once) with a life without love? In such +a life there can be no thought; for we have no thought (save thoughts +of pain) but as far as we have love and admiration. + +It is an awful truth, that there neither is, nor can be, any genuine +enjoyment of poetry among nineteen out of twenty of those persons who +live, or wish to live, in the broad light of the world--among +those who either are, or are striving to make themselves, people of +consideration in society. This is a truth, and an awful one, because +to be incapable of a feeling of poetry, in my sense of the word, is to +be without love of human nature and reverence for God. + +Upon this I shall insist elsewhere; at present let me confine myself +to my object; which is to make you, my dear friend, as easy-hearted +as myself with respect to these poems. Trouble not yourself upon their +present reception; of what moment is that compared with what I trust +is their destiny?--to console the afflicted; to add sunshine to +daylight, by making the happy happier; to teach the young and the +gracious of every age to see, to think, and feel, and therefore, to +become more actively and securely virtuous; this is their office, +which I trust they will faithfully perform, long after we (that is, +all that is mortal of us) are mouldered in our graves. I am well aware +how far it would seem to many I overrate my own exertions, when I +speak in this way, in direct connexion with the volume I have just +made public. + +I am not, however, afraid of such censure, insignificant as probably +the majority of those poems would appear to very respectable persons. +I do not mean London wits and witlings, for these have too many foul +passions about them to be respectable, even if they had more intellect +than the benign laws of Providence will allow to such a heartless +existence as theirs is; but grave, kindly-natured, worthy persons, +who would be pleased if they could. I hope that these volumes are +not without some recommendations, even for readers of this class: but +their imagination has slept; and the voice which is the voice of my +poetry, without imagination, cannot be heard.... + +My letter (as this second sheet, which I am obliged to take, +admonishes me) is growing to an enormous length; and yet, saving that +I have expressed my calm confidence that these poems will live, I have +said nothing which has a particular application to the object of it, +which was to remove all disquiet from your mind on account of the +condemnation they may at present incur from that portion of my +contemporaries who are called the public. I am sure, my dear Lady +Beaumont, if you attach any importance to it, it can only be from an +apprehension that it may affect me, upon which I have already set you +at ease; or from a fear that this present blame is ominous of their +future or final destiny. If this be the case, your tenderness for me +betrays you. Be assured that the decision of these persons has nothing +to do with the question; they are altogether incompetent judges. These +people, in the senseless hurry of their idle lives, do not _read_ +books, they merely snatch a glance at them, that they may talk about +them. And even if this were not so, never forget what, I believe, was +observed to you by Coleridge, that every great and original writer, in +proportion as he is great or original, must himself create the taste +by which he is to be relished; he must teach the art by which he is to +be seen; this, in a certain degree, even to all persons, however wise +and pure may be their lives, and however unvitiated their taste. But +for those who dip into books in order to give an opinion of them, or +talk about them to take up an opinion--for this multitude of unhappy +and misguided, and misguiding beings, an entire regeneration must +be produced; and if this be possible, it must be a work of time. To +conclude, my ears are stone-dead to this idle buzz, and my flesh as +insensible as iron to these petty stings; and after what I have said, +I am sure yours will be the same. I doubt not that you will share with +me an invincible confidence that my writings (and among them these +little poems) will co-operate with the benign tendencies in human +nature and society, wherever found; and that they will in their degree +be efficacious in making men wiser, better, and happier. Farewell. +I will not apologize for this letter, though its length demands an +apology.... + + + +TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT + +_The language of poetry_ + + +[c. 1807.] + +MY DEAR SIR GEORGE, + +I am quite delighted to hear of your picture for _Peter Bell_; I was +much pleased with the sketch, and I have no doubt that the picture +will surpass it as far as a picture ought to do. I long much to see +it. I should approve of any engraver approved by you. But remember +that no poem of mine will ever be popular; and I am afraid that the +sale of _Peter_ would not carry the expense of the engraving, and that +the poem, in the estimation of the public, would be a weight upon +the print. I say not this in modest disparagement of the poem, but in +sorrow for the sickly taste of the public in verse. The _people_ would +love the poem of _Peter Bell_, but the _public_ (a very different +being) will never love it. Thanks for dear Lady B.'s transcript from +your friend's letter; it is written with candour, but I must say a +word or two not in praise of it. 'Instances of what I mean,' says your +friend, 'are to be found in a poem on a Daisy' (by the by, it is on +_the_ Daisy, a mighty difference!) 'and on _Daffodils reflected in the +Water_'. Is this accurately transcribed by Lady Beaumont? If it +be, what shall we think of criticism or judgement founded upon, and +exemplified by, a poem which must have been so inattentively perused? +My language is precise; and, therefore, it would be false modesty to +charge myself with blame. + + Beneath the trees, + Ten thousand dancing in the _breeze_. + The _waves beside_ them danced, but they + Outdid the _sparkling waves_ in glee. + +Can expression be more distinct? And let me ask your friend how it +is possible for flowers to be _reflected_ in water when there are +_waves_? They may, indeed, in _still_ water; but the very object of my +poem is the trouble or agitation, both of the flowers and the water. +I must needs respect the understanding of every one honoured by your +friendship; but sincerity compels me to say that my poems must be more +nearly looked at, before they can give rise to any remarks of much +value, even from the strongest minds. With respect to this individual +poem, Lady B. will recollect how Mrs. Fermor expressed herself upon +it. A letter also was sent to me, addressed to a friend of mine, and +by him communicated to me, in which this identical poem was singled +out for fervent approbation. What then shall we say? Why, let the poet +first consult his own heart, as I have done, and leave the rest +to posterity--to, I hope, an improving posterity. The fact is, the +English _public_ are at this moment in the same state of mind with +respect to my poems, if small things may be compared with great, as +the French are in respect to Shakespeare, and not the French alone, +but almost the whole Continent. In short, in your friend's letter, +I am condemned for the very thing for which I ought to have +been praised, viz., that I have not written down to the level of +superficial observers and unthinking minds. Every great poet is +a teacher: I wish either to be considered as a teacher, or as +nothing.... + + + + +SIR WALTER SCOTT + +1771-1832 + + + +TO HIS MOTHER + +_Marriage with Miss Carpenter_ + + +[1797.] + +MY DEAR MOTHER, + +I should very ill deserve the care and affection with which you +have ever regarded me, were I to neglect my duty so far as to omit +consulting my father and you in the most important step which I +can possibly take in life, and upon the success of which my future +happiness must depend. It is with pleasure I think that I can avail +myself of your advice and instructions in an affair of so great +importance as that which I have at present on my hands. You will +probably guess from this preamble, that I am engaged in a matrimonial +plan, which is really the case. Though my acquaintance with the young +lady has not been of long standing, this circumstance is in some +degree counterbalanced by the intimacy in which we have lived, and by +the opportunities which that intimacy has afforded me of remarking her +conduct and sentiments on many different occasions, some of which were +rather of a delicate nature, so that in fact I have seen more of her +during the few weeks we have been together, than I could have done +after a much longer acquaintance, shackled by the common forms of +ordinary life. You will not expect from me a description of her +person,--for which I refer you to my brother, as also for a fuller +account of all the circumstances attending the business than can be +comprised in the compass of a letter. Without flying into raptures, +for I must assure you that my judgement as well as my affections are +consulted upon this occasion; without flying into raptures then, I +may safely assure you, that her temper is sweet and cheerful, her +understanding good, and what I know will give you pleasure, her +principles of religion very serious. I have been very explicit +with her upon the nature of my expectations, and she thinks she can +accommodate herself to the situation which I should wish her to hold +in society as my wife, which, you will easily comprehend, I mean +should neither be extravagant nor degrading. Her fortune, though +partly dependent upon her brother, who is high in office at Madras, is +very considerable--at present £500 a-year. This, however, we must, +in some degree, regard as precarious,--I mean to the full extent; and +indeed when you know her you will not be surprised that I regard +this circumstance chiefly because it removes those prudential +considerations which would otherwise render our union impossible for +the present. Betwixt her income and my own professional exertions, I +have little doubt we will be enabled to hold the rank in society which +my family and situation entitle me to fill. + +My dear Mother, I cannot express to you the anxiety I have that you +will not think me flighty nor inconsiderate in this business. Believe +me, that experience, in one instance--you cannot fail to know to what +I allude--is too recent to permit my being so hasty in my conclusions +as the warmth of my temper might have otherwise prompted. I am also +most anxious that you should be prepared to show her kindness, which I +know the goodness of your own heart will prompt, more especially +when I tell you that she is an orphan, without relations, and almost +without friends. Her guardian is, I should say _was_, for she is of +age, Lord Downshire, to whom I must write for his consent, a piece +of respect to which he is entitled for his care of her--and there the +matter rests at present. I think I need not tell you that if I assume +the new character which I threaten, I shall be happy to find that +in that capacity, I may make myself more useful to my brothers, and +especially to Anne, than I could in any other. On the other hand, I +shall certainly expect that my friends will endeavour to show every +attention in their power to a woman who forsakes for me, prospects +much more splendid than what I can offer, and who comes into Scotland +without a single friend but myself. I find I could write a great deal +more upon this subject, but as it is late, and as I must write to my +father, I shall restrain myself. I think (but you are the best judge) +that in the circumstances in which I stand, you should write to her, +Miss Carpenter, under cover to me at Carlisle. + +Write to me very fully upon this important subject--send me your +opinion, your advice, and above all, your blessing; you will see the +necessity of not delaying a minute in doing so, and in keeping this +business _strictly private_, till you hear farther from me, since you +are not ignorant that even at this advanced period, an objection on +the part of Lord Downshire, or many other accidents, may intervene; in +which case, I should little wish my disappointment to be public. + + + +TO MISS SEWARD + +_The Lay of the Last Minstrel_ + + +Edinburgh, 21 _March_, 1805. + +MY DEAR MISS SEWARD, + +I am truly happy that you found any amusement in the _Lay of the Last +Minstrel_. It has great faults, of which no one can be more sensible +than I am myself. Above all, it is deficient in that sort of +continuity which a story ought to have, and which, were it to write +again, I would endeavour to give it. But I began and wandered forward, +like one in a pleasant country, getting to the top of one hill to see +a prospect, and to the bottom of another to enjoy a shade, and what +wonder if my course has been devious and desultory, and many of my +excursions altogether unprofitable to the advance of my journey. +The Dwarf Page is also an excrescence, and I plead guilty to all the +censures concerning him. The truth is, he has a history, and it is +this: The story of Gilpin Horner was told by an old gentleman to +Lady Dalkeith, and she, much diverted with his actually believing so +grotesque a tale, insisted that I should make it into a Border ballad. +I don't know if you ever saw my lovely chieftainess--if you have, +you must be aware that it is _impossible_ for any one to refuse her +request, as she has more of the angel in face and temper than any one +alive; so that if she had asked me to write a ballad on a broomstick I +must have attempted it. I began a few verses, to be called the Goblin +Page; and they lay long by me, till the applause of some friends +whose judgement I valued induced me to resume the poem; so on I wrote, +knowing no more than the man in the moon how I was to end. At length +the story appeared so uncouth, that I was fain to put it into +the mouth of my old minstrel--lest the nature of it should be +misunderstood, and I should be suspected of setting up a new school of +poetry, instead of a feeble attempt to imitate the old. In the process +of romance the page, intended to be a principal person in the work, +contrived (from the baseness of his natural propensities, I suppose) +to slink downstairs into the kitchen, and now he must e'en abide +there. + +I mention these circumstances to you, and to any one whose applause I +value, because I am unwilling you should suspect me of trifling with +the public in _malice prepense_. As to the herd of critics, it is +impossible for me to pay much attention to them; for, as they do not +understand what I call poetry, we talk in a foreign language to each +other. Indeed, many of these gentlemen appear to me to be a sort of +tinkers, who, unable to _make_ pots and pans, set up for _menders_ of +them, and, God knows, often make two holes in patching one. The sixth +canto is altogether redundant; for the poem should certainly have +closed with the union of the lovers, when the interest, if any, was +at an end. But what could I do? I had my book and my page still on my +hands, and must get rid of them at all events. Manage them as I would, +their catastrophe must have been insufficient to occupy an entire +canto; so I was fain to eke it out with the songs of the minstrels. I +will now descend from the confessional, which I think I have occupied +long enough for the patience of my fair confessor. I am happy you are +disposed to give me absolution, notwithstanding all my sins. We have a +new poet come forth amongst us--James Graham, author of a poem called +_The Sabbath_, which I admire very much. If I can find an opportunity +I will send you a copy. + + + + +TO LADY LOUISA STUART + +_An amiable blue-stocking_ + + +Edinburgh, 16 _June_, 1808. + +MY DEAR LADY LOUISA, + +Nothing will give us more pleasure than to have the honour of showing +every attention in our power to Mr. and Mrs. Morritt, and I am +particularly happy in a circumstance that at once promises me a great +deal of pleasure in the acquaintance of your Ladyship's friends, and +affords me the satisfaction of hearing from you again. Pray don't +triumph over me too much in the case of Lydia. I stood a very +respectable siege; but she caressed my wife, coaxed my children, +and made, by dint of cake and pudding, some impression even upon +the affections of my favourite dog: so, when all the outworks +were carried, the mere fortress had no choice but to surrender on +honourable terms. To the best of my thinking, notwithstanding the +cerulean hue of her stockings, and a most plentiful stock of eccentric +affectation, she is really at bottom a good-natured woman, with much +liveliness and some talent. She is now set out to the Highlands, where +she is likely to encounter many adventures. Mrs. Scott and I went as +far as Loch Catrine with her, from which jaunt I have just returned. +We had most heavenly weather, which was peculiarly favourable to my +fair companions' zeal for sketching every object that fell in their +way, from a castle to a pigeon-house. Did your Ladyship ever travel +with a _drawing_ companion? Mine drew like cart-horses, as well in +laborious zeal as in effect; for, after all, I could not help hinting +that the cataracts delineated bore a singular resemblance to haycocks, +and the rocks much correspondence to large old-fashioned cabinets +with their folding-doors open. So much for Lydia, whom I left on her +journey through the Highlands, but by what route she had not resolved. +I gave her three plans, and think it likely she will adopt none +of them: moreover, when the executive government of postilions, +landlords, and Highland boatmen devolves upon her English servant +instead of me, I am afraid the distresses of the errant damsels will +fall a little beneath the dignity of romances. All this nonsense is +_entre nous_, for Miss White has been actively zealous in getting me +some Irish correspondence about Swift, and otherwise very obliging. + +It is not with my inclination that I fag for the booksellers; but what +can I do? My poverty and not my will consents. The income of my office +is only reversionary, and my private fortune much limited. My poetical +success fairly destroyed my prospects of professional success, and +obliged me to retire from the bar; for though I had a competent share +of information and industry, who would trust their cause to the author +of the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_? Now, although I do allow that an +author should take care of his literary character, yet I think the +least thing that his literary character can do in return is to take +some care of the author, who is unfortunately, like Jeremy in _Love +for Love_, furnished with a set of tastes and appetites which would +do honour to the income of a Duke if he had it. Besides, I go to work +with Swift _con amore_; for, like Dryden, he is an early favourite +of mine. The _Marmion_ is nearly out, and I have made one or two +alterations on the third edition, with which the press is now +groaning. So soon as it is, it will make the number of copies +published within the space of six months amount to eight thousand,--an +immense number, surely, and enough to comfort the author's wounded +feelings, had the claws of the reviewers been able to reach him +through the _steel jack_ of true Border indifference. + + + +TO ROBERT SOUTHEY + +_Congratulations_ + + +Edinburgh, 13 _Nov._ 1813. + +I do not delay, my dear Southey, to say my _gratulor_. Long may you +live, as Paddy says, to rule over us, and to redeem the crown of +Spenser and of Dryden to its pristine dignity. I am only discontented +with the extent of your royal revenue, which I thought had been £400, +or £300 at the very least. Is there no getting rid of that iniquitous +modus, and requiring the _butt_ in kind? I would have you think of it: +I know no man so well entitled to Xeres sack as yourself, though many +bards would make a better figure at drinking it. I should think that +in due time a memorial might get some relief in this part of the +appointment--it should be at least £100 wet and £100 dry. When you +have carried your point of discarding the ode, and my point of getting +the sack, you will be exactly in the situation of Davy in the +farce, who stipulates for more wages, less work, and the key of the +ale-cellar. I was greatly delighted with the circumstances of +your investiture. It reminded me of the porters at Calais with Dr. +Smollett's baggage, six of them seizing upon one small portmanteau, +and bearing it in triumph to his lodgings. You see what it is to +laugh at the superstitions of a gentleman-usher, as I think you do +somewhere. 'The whirligig of Time brings about his revenges.' + +Adieu, my dear Southey; my best wishes attend all that you do, and my +best congratulations every good that attends you--yea even this, the +very least of Providence's mercies, as a poor clergyman said when +pronouncing grace over a herring. I should like to know how the prince +received you; his address is said to be excellent, and his knowledge +of literature far from despicable. What a change of fortune even +since the short time when we met! The great work of retribution is now +rolling onward to consummation, yet am I not fully satisfied--_pereat +iste_--there will be no permanent peace in Europe till Buonaparte +sleeps with the tyrants of old. + + + +TO J.B.S. MORRITT + +_A small anonymous sort of a novel_ + + +Edinburgh, 9 _July_, 1814. + +MY DEAR MORRITT, + +I owe you many apologies for not sooner answering your very +entertaining letter upon your Parisian journey. I heartily wish I had +been of your party, for you have seen what I trust will not be seen +again in a hurry; since, to enjoy the delight of a restoration, there +is a necessity for a previous _bouleversement_ of everything that is +valuable in morals and policy which seems to have been the case in +France since 1790. The Duke of Buccleugh told me yesterday of a very +good reply of Louis to some of his attendants, who proposed shutting +the doors of his apartments to keep out the throng of people. 'Open +the door,' he said, 'to John Bull; he has suffered a great deal in +keeping the door open for me.' + +Now, to go from one important subject to another, I must account for +my own laziness, which I do by referring you to a small anonymous sort +of a novel, in three volumes, _Waverley_, which you will receive by +the mail of this day. It was a very old attempt of mine to embody some +traits of those characters and manners peculiar to Scotland, the last +remnants of which vanished during my own youth, so that few or no +traces now remain. I had written great part of the first volume, and +sketched other passages, when I mislaid the MS., and only found it by +the merest accident as I was rummaging the drawers of an old cabinet; +and I took the fancy of finishing it, which I did so fast, that the +last two volumes were written in three weeks. I had a great deal of +fun in the accomplishment of this task, though I do not expect that it +will be popular in the south, as much of the humour, if there be any, +is local, and some of it even professional. You, however, who are an +adopted Scotchman, will find some amusement in it. It has made a very +strong impression here, and the good people of Edinburgh are busied in +tracing the author, and in finding out originals for the portraits it +contains. In the first case, they will probably find it difficult to +convict the guilty author, although he is far from escaping suspicion. +Jeffrey has offered to make oath that it is mine, and another great +critic has tendered his affidavit _ex contrario_; so that these +authorities have divided the Gude Town. However, the thing has +succeeded very well, and is thought highly of. I don't know if it has +got to London yet. I intend to maintain my _incognito_. Let me know +your opinion about it.... + +24 _July_. + +... I had just proceeded thus far when your kind favour of the +21st reached Abbotsford. I am heartily glad you continued to like +_Waverley_ to the end. The hero is a sneaking piece of imbecility; +and if he had married Flora, she would have set him up upon the +chimney-piece, as Count Borowlaski's wife used to do with him. I am +a bad hand at depicting a hero properly so called, and have an +unfortunate propensity for the dubious characters of borderers, +buccaneers, Highland robbers, and all others of a Robin-Hood +description. I do not know why it should be, as I am myself, like +Hamlet, indifferent honest; but I suppose the blood of the old +cattle-drivers of Teviotdale continues to stir in my veins. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Acceptance of a baronetcy_ + + +Edinburgh, 7 _Dec._, 1818. + +MY DEAR MORRITT, + +... There is another thing I have to whisper in your faithful ear. Our +fat friend being desirous to honour Literature in my unworthy person, +has intimated to me, by his organ the Doctor, that, with consent ample +and unanimous of all the potential voices of all his ministers, +each more happy than another of course on so joyful an occasion, he +proposes to dub me Baronet. It would be easy saying a parcel of fine +things about my contempt of rank, and so forth; but although I would +not have gone a step out of my way to have asked, or bought, or +begged, or borrowed a distinction, which to me personally will rather +be inconvenient than otherwise, yet, coming as it does directly from +the source of feudal honours, and as an honour, I am really gratified +with it;--especially as it is intimated, that it is his Royal +Highness's pleasure to heat the oven for me expressly, without waiting +till he has some new _batch_ of Baronets ready in dough. In plain +English, I am to be gazetted _per se_. My poor friend Carpenter's +bequest to my family has taken away a certain degree of +_impecuniosity_, a necessity of saving cheese-parings and candle-ends, +which always looks inconsistent with any little pretension to rank. +But as things now stand, Advance banners in the name of God and St. +Andrew. Remember, I anticipate the jest, 'I like not such grinning +honours, as Sir Walter hath.' After all, if one must speak for +themselves, I have my quarters and emblazonments, free of all stain +but Border theft and High Treason, which I hope are gentleman-like +crimes; and I hope Sir Walter Scott will not sound worse than Sir +Humphry Davy, though my merits are as much under his, in point of +utility, as can well be imagined. But a name is something, and mine +is the better of the two. Set down this flourish to the account +of national and provincial pride, for you must know we have more +Messieurs de Sotenville in our Border counties than anywhere else in +the Lowlands--I cannot say for the Highlands. + + + +TO LORD MONTAGU + +_Prince Leopold's visit_ + + +Abbotsford, 3 _Oct._ 1819. + +MY DEAR LORD, + +I am honoured with your Buxton letter.... _Anent_ Prince Leopold, I +only heard of his approach at eight o'clock in the morning, and he +was to be at Selkirk by eleven. The magistrates sent to ask me to help +them to receive him. It occurred to me he might be coming to Melrose +to see the Abbey, in which case I could not avoid asking him to +Abbotsford, as he must pass my very door. I mentioned this to Mrs. +Scott, who was lying quietly in bed, and I wish you had heard the +scream she gave on the occasion. 'What have we to offer him?'--'Wine +and cake,' said I, thinking to make all things easy; but she +ejaculated, in a tone of utter despair, 'Cake!! where am I to get +cake?' However, being partly consoled with the recollection that his +visit was a very improbable incident, and curiosity, as usual, proving +too strong for alarm, she set out with me in order not to miss a peep +of the great man. James Skene and his lady were with us, and we gave +our carriages such additional dignity as a pair of leaders could add, +and went to meet him in full puff. The Prince very civilly told me, +that, though he could not see Melrose on this occasion, he wished to +come to Abbotsford for an hour. New despair on the part of Mrs. Scott, +who began to institute a domiciliary search for cold meat through the +whole city of Selkirk, which produced _one shoulder of cold lamb_. In +the meanwhile, his Royal Highness received the civic honours of the +BIRSE[1] very graciously. I had hinted to Bailie Lang, that it ought +only to be licked _symbolically_ on the present occasion; so he +flourished it three times before his mouth, but without touching it +with his lips, and the Prince followed his example as directed. Lang +made an excellent speech, sensible, and feeling, and well delivered. +The Prince seemed much surprised at this great propriety of expression +and behaviour in a magistrate, whose people seemed such a rabble, and +whose whole band of music consisted in a drum and fife. He noticed to +Bailie Anderson, that Selkirk seemed very populous in proportion +to its extent. 'On an occasion like this it seems so,' answered the +Bailie, neatly enough I thought. I question if any magistrates in the +kingdom, lord mayors and aldermen not excepted, could have behaved +with more decent and quiet good-breeding. Prince Leopold repeatedly +alluded to this during the time he was at Abbotsford. I do not know +how Mrs. Scott ultimately managed; but with broiled salmon, and +black-cock, and partridges, she gave him a very decent lunch; and I +chanced to have some very fine old hock, which was mighty germain to +the matter. + +The Prince seems melancholy, whether naturally or from habit, I do not +pretend to say; but I do not remember thinking him so at Paris, where +I saw him frequently, then a much poorer man than myself; yet he +showed some humour, for alluding to the crowds that followed him +everywhere, he mentioned some place where he had gone out to shoot, +but was afraid to proceed for fear of 'bagging a boy'. He said +he really thought of getting some shooting-place in Scotland, and +promised me a longer visit on his return. If I had had a day's +notice to have _warned the waters_, we could have met him with a very +respectable number of the gentry; but there was no time for this, and +probably he liked it better as it was. There was only young Clifton +who could have come, and he was shy and cubbish, and would not, though +requested by the Selkirk people. He was perhaps ashamed to march +through Coventry with them. It hung often and sadly on my mind that +_he_ was wanting who could and would have received him like a Prince +indeed; and yet the meeting betwixt them, had they been fated to meet, +would have been a very sad one. I think I have now given your +lordship a very full, true, and particular account of our royal visit, +unmatched even by that of King Charles at the Castle of Tillietudlem. +That we did not speak of it for more than a week after it happened, +and that that emphatic monosyllable, _The Prince_, is not heard +amongst us more than ten times a-day, is, on the whole, to the credit +of my family's understanding. The piper is the only one whose brain he +seems to have endangered; for, as the Prince said he preferred him to +any he had heard in the Highlands--(which, by the way, shows his +Royal Highness knows nothing of the matter),--the fellow seems to have +become incapable of his ordinary occupation as a forester, and has cut +stick and stem without remorse to the tune of _Phail Phranse_, i.e. +the Prince's welcome. + +[Footnote 1: Bundle of hog's bristles; symbol of the soutars.] + + + +To DANIEL TERRY + +_Progress at Abbotsford_ + + +Abbotsford, 10 _Nov_. 1822. + +My dear Terry, + +I got all the plans safe, and they are delightful. The library +ceiling will be superb, and we have plenty of ornaments for it without +repeating one of those in the eating-room. The plan of shelves is also +excellent, and will, I think, for a long time suffice my collection. +The brasses for the shelves I like--but not the price: the notched +ones, after all, do very well. I have had three grand hawls since I +last wrote to you. The pulpit, repentance-stool, King's seat, and +God knows how much of carved wainscot, from the kirk of Dunfermline, +enough to coat the hall to the height of seven feet:--supposing +it boarded above, for hanging guns, old portraits, intermixed with +armour, &c.--it will be a superb entrance-gallery: this is hawl the +first. Hawl second is twenty-four pieces of the most splendid Chinese +paper, twelve feet high by four wide, a present from my cousin Hugh +Scott, enough to finish the drawing-room and two bedrooms. Hawl third +is a quantity of what is called Jamaica cedar-wood, enough for fitting +up both the drawing-room and the library, including the presses, +shelves, &c.: the wood is finely pencilled and most beautiful, +something like the colour of gingerbread; it costs very little more +than oak, works much easier, and is never touched by vermin of any +kind. I sent Mr. Atkinson a specimen, but it was from the plain end of +the plank; the interior is finely waved and variegated. Your kind +and unremitting exertions in our favour will soon plenish the +drawing-room. Thus we at present stand. We have a fine old English +cabinet, with china, &c.-and two superb elbow-chairs, the gift of +Constable, carved most magnificently, with groups of children, fruit, +and flowers, in the Italian taste: they came from Rome, and are much +admired. It seems to me that the mirror you mention, being framed in +carved box, would answer admirably well with the chairs, which are of +the same material. The mirror should, I presume, be placed over +the drawing-room chimney-piece; and opposite to it I mean to put an +antique table of mosaic marbles, to support Chantrey's bust. A good +sofa would be desirable, and so would the tapestry screen, if really +fresh and beautiful; but as much of our furniture will be a little +antiquated, one would not run too much into that taste in so small an +apartment. For the library I have the old oak chairs now in the little +armoury, eight in number, and we might add one or two pair of the +ebony chairs you mention. I should think this enough, for many seats +in such a room must impede access to the books; and I don't mean +the library to be on ordinary occasions a public room. Perhaps the +tapestry-screen would suit better here than in the drawing-room. I +have one library table here, and shall have another made for atlases +and prints. For the hall I have four chairs of black oak. In other +matters we can make it out well enough. In fact, it is my object +rather to keep under my new accommodations at first, both to avoid +immediate outlay, and that I may leave room for pretty things which +may occur hereafter. I would to Heaven I could take a cruise with you +through the brokers, which would be the pleasantest affair possible, +only I am afraid I should make a losing voyage of it. Mr. Atkinson has +missed a little my idea of the oratory, fitting it up entirely as +a bookcase, whereas I should like to have had recesses for +curiosities--for the Bruce's skull--for a crucifix, &c., &c.-in short, +a little cabinet instead of a book-closet. Four sides of books would +be perfectly sufficient; the other four, so far as not occupied by +door or window, should be arranged tastefully for antiquities, &c., +like the inside of an antique cabinet, with drawers, and shottles, and +funny little arches. The oak screen dropped as from the clouds: it is +most acceptable; I might have guessed there was only one kind friend +so ready to supply hay to my hobby-horse. You have my views in these +matters and your own taste; and I will send the _needful_ when +you apprise me of the amount total. Where things are not quite +satisfactory, it is better to wait a while on every account, for the +amusement is over when one has room for nothing more. The house is +completely roofed, &c., and looks worthy of Mrs. Terry's painting. I +never saw anything handsomer than the grouping of towers, chimneys, +&c. upon the roof, when seen at a proper distance. + +Once more, let me wish you joy of your professional success. I can +judge, by a thousand minute items, of the advance you make with the +public, just as I can of the gradual progress of my trees, because I +am interested in both events. You may say, like Burke, you were not +'coaxed and dandled into eminence' but have fought your way gallantly, +shown your passport at every barrier, and been always a step in +advance, without a single retrograde movement. Every one wishes to +advance rapidly, but when the desired position is gained, it is far +more easily maintained by him whose ascent has been gradual, and whose +favour is founded not on the unreasonable expectations entertained +from one or two seasons, but from an habitual experience of the power +of pleasing during several years. You say not a word of poor Wattles. +I hope little Miss has not put his nose out of joint entirely. + +I have not been very well--a whoreson thickness of blood, and a +depression of spirits arising from the loss of friends (to whom I +am now to add poor Wedderburne), have annoyed me much; and _Peveril_ +will, I fear, smell of the apoplexy. I propose a good rally, however, +and hope it will be a powerful effect. My idea is, _entre nous_, a +Scotch archer in the French King's guard, _tempore_ Louis XI, the most +picturesque of all times. + + + +TO J.B.S. MORRITT + +_A brave face to the world_ + + +Edinburgh, 6 _Feb._ 1826. + +MY DEAR MORRITT, + +It is very true I have been, and am in danger, of a pecuniary loss, +and probably a very large one, which in the uncertainty I look at as +to the full extent, being the manly way of calculating such matters, +since one may be better, but can hardly be worse. I can't say I +feel overjoyed at losing a large sum of hard-earned money in a most +unexpected manner, for all men considered Constable's people secure as +the Bank; yet, as I have obtained an arrangement of payment convenient +for every body concerned, and easy for myself, I cannot say that I +care much about the matter. Some economical restrictions I will make; +and it happened oddly that they were such as Lady Scott and myself +had almost determined upon without this compulsion. Abbotsford will +henceforth be our only establishment; and during the time I must be +in town, I will take my bed at the Albyn Club. We shall also break +off the rather excessive hospitality to which we were exposed, and no +longer stand host and hostess to all that do pilgrimage to Melrose. +Then I give up an expensive farm, which I always hated, and turn +all my odds and ends into cash. I do not reckon much on my literary +exertions--I mean in proportion to former success--because popular +taste may fluctuate. But with a moderate degree of the favour which +I have always had, my time my own, and my mind unplagued about other +things, I may boldly promise myself soon to get the better of this +blow. In these circumstances, I should be unjust and ungrateful to ask +or accept the pity of my friends. I for one, do not see there is much +occasion for making moan about it. My womankind will be the greater +sufferers,--yet even they look cheerily forward; and, for myself, the +blowing off my hat in a stormy day has given me more uneasiness. + +I envy your Brighton party, and your fine weather. When I was at +Abbotsford the mercury was down at six or seven in the morning more +than once. I am hammering away at a bit of a story from the old affair +of the _diablerie_ at Woodstock in the Long Parliament times. I don't +like it much. I am obliged to hamper my fanatics greatly too much +to make them effective; but I make the sacrifice on principle; so, +perhaps, I shall deserve good success in other parts of the work. +You will be surprised when I tell you that I have written a volume in +exactly fifteen days. To be sure, I permitted no interruptions. But +then I took exercise, and for ten days of the fifteen attended the +Court of Session from two to four hours every day. This is nothing, +however, to writing _Ivanhoe_ when I had the actual cramp in my +stomach; but I have no idea of these things preventing a man +from doing what he has a mind. My love to all the party at +Brighton--fireside party I had almost said, but you scorn my +words--seaside party then be it. Lady Scott and Anne join in kindest +love. I must close my letter, for one of the consequences of our +misfortunes is, that we dine every day at half-past four o'clock; +which premature hour arises, I suppose, from sorrow being hungry as +well as thirsty. One most laughable part of our tragic comedy was, +that every friend in the world came formally, just as they do here +when a relation dies, thinking that the eclipse of _les beaux yeux de +ma cassette_ was perhaps a loss as deserving of consolation. + + + +TO MARIA EDGEWORTH + +_Time's revenges_ + + +Edinburgh, 23 _June_, 1830. + +MY DEAR MISS EDGEWORTH, + +Nothing would be so valuable to me as the mark of kindness which you +offer, and yet my kennel is so much changed since I had the pleasure +of seeing you, that I must not accept of what I wished so sincerely +to possess. I am the happy owner of two of the noble breed, each of +gigantic size, and the gift of that sort of Highlander whom we call a +High Chief, so I would hardly be justified in parting with them even +to make room for your kind present, and I should have great doubts +whether the mountaineers would receive the Irish stranger with due +hospitality. One of them I had from poor Glengarry, who, with all the +wild and fierce points of his character, had a kind, honest, and +warm heart. The other from a young friend, whom Highlanders call +MacVourigh, and Lowlanders MacPherson of Cluny. He is a fine spirited +boy, fond of his people and kind to them, and the best dancer of a +Highland reel now living. I fear I must not add a third to Nimrod and +Bran, having little use for them except being pleasant companions. As +to labouring in their vocation, we have only one wolf which I know +of, kept in a friend's menagerie near me, and no wild deer. Walter +has some roebucks indeed, but Lochore is far off, and I begin to +feel myself distressed at running down these innocent and beautiful +creatures, perhaps because I cannot gallop so fast after them as to +drown sense of the pain we are inflicting. And yet I suspect I am like +the sick fox; and if my strength and twenty years could come back, I +would become again a copy of my namesake, remembered by the sobriquet +of Walter _ill tae hauld_ (to hold, that is). 'But age has clawed +me in its clutch,' and there is no remedy for increasing disability +except dying, which is an awkward score. + +There is some chance of my retiring from my official situation upon +the changes in the Court of Session. They cannot reduce my office, +though they do not wish to fill it up with a new occupant. I shall be +therefore _de trop_; and in these days of economy they will be better +pleased to let me retire on three parts of my salary than to keep me a +Clerk of Session on the whole; and small grief at our parting, as the +old horse said to the broken cart. And yet, though I thought such a +proposal when first made was like a Pisgah peep at Paradise, I cannot +help being a little afraid of changing the habits of a long life all +of a sudden and for ever. You ladies have always your work-basket and +stocking-knitting to wreak an hour of tediousness upon. The routine of +business serves, I suspect, for the same purpose to us male wretches; +it is seldom a burden to the mind, but a something which must be done, +and is done almost mechanically; and though dull judges and duller +clerks, the routine of law proceedings, and law forms, are very unlike +the plumed troops and the tug of war, yet the result is the same. +The occupation's gone. The morning, that the day's news must all be +gathered from other sources--that the jokes which the principal Clerks +of Session have laughed at weekly for a century, and which would not +move a muscle of any other person's face, must be laid up to perish +like those of Sancho in the Sierra Morena--I don't above half like +forgetting all these moderate habits, and yet + + Ah, freedom is a noble thing! + +as says the old Scottish poet. So I will cease my regrets, or lay them +by to be taken up and used as arguments of comfort, in case I do not +slip my cable after all, which is highly possible. Lockhart and Sophia +have taken up their old residence at Chiefswood. They are very fond of +the place; and I am glad also my grandchildren will be bred near the +heather, for certain qualities which I think are best taught there. + + + + +SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE + +1772-1834 + + + +TO CHARLES LAMB + +_A sympathetic reply_[1] + + +28 _Sept._ 1796. + +Your letter, my friend, struck me with a mighty horror. It rushed upon +me and stupefied my feelings. You bid me write you a religious letter; +I am not a man who would attempt to insult the greatness of your +anguish by any other consolation. Heaven knows that in the easiest +fortunes there is much dissatisfaction and weariness of spirit: +much that calls for the exercise of patience and resignation; but +in storms, like these, that shake the dwelling and make the heart +tremble, there is no middle way between despair and the yielding up of +the whole spirit unto the guidance of faith. And surely it is a matter +of joy, that your faith in Jesus has been preserved; the Comforter +that should relieve you is not far from you. But as you are a +Christian, in the name of that Saviour, who was filled with bitterness +and made drunken with wormwood, I conjure you to have recourse in +frequent prayer to 'his God and your God'; the God of mercies, and +father of all comfort. Your poor father is, I hope, almost senseless +of the calamity; the unconscious instrument of Divine Providence knows +it not, and your mother is in heaven. It is sweet to be roused from +a frightful dream by the song of birds, and the gladsome rays of +the morning. Ah, how infinitely more sweet to be awakened from the +blackness and amazement of a sudden horror by the glories of God +manifest and the hallelujahs of angels. + +As to what regards yourself, I approve altogether of your abandoning +what you justly call vanities. I look upon you as a man called by +sorrow and anguish and a strange desolation of hopes into quietness, +and a soul set apart and made peculiar to God. We cannot arrive at any +portion of heavenly bliss without in some measure imitating Christ; +and they arrive at the largest inheritance who imitate the most +difficult parts of His character, and, bowed down and crushed under +foot, cry in fullness of faith, 'Father, Thy will be done.' + +I wish above measure to have you for a little while here--no visitants +shall blow on the nakedness of your feelings--you shall be quiet, and +your spirit may be healed. I see no possible objection, unless your +father's helplessness prevent you, and unless you are necessary to +him. If this be not the case, I charge you write me that you will +come. + +I charge you, my dearest friend, not to dare to encourage gloom or +despair--you are a temporary sharer in human miseries, that you may +be an eternal partaker of the Divine nature. I charge you, if by any +means it be possible, come to me. + +[Footnote 1: See Letter, p. 355.] + + + +TO JOSEPH COTTLE + +_Literary adventurers_ + + +[1798.] + +MY DEAR COTTLE, + +Neither Wordsworth nor myself could have been otherwise than +uncomfortable, if any but yourself had received from us the first +offer of our tragedies, and of the volume of Wordsworth's poems. At +the same time, we did not expect that you could with prudence and +propriety, advance such a sum as we should want at the time we +specified. In short, we both regard the publication of our tragedies +as an evil. It is not impossible but that in happier times they may be +brought on the stage: and to throw away this chance for a mere trifle, +would be to make the present moment act fraudulently and usuriously +towards the future time. + +My tragedy employed and strained all my thoughts and faculties for +six or seven months; Wordsworth consumed far more time, and far more +thought, and far more genius. We consider the publication of them +an evil on any terms; but our thoughts were bent on a plan for the +accomplishment of which a certain sum of money was necessary, (the +whole) at that particular time, and in order to do this we resolved, +although reluctantly, to part with our tragedies: that is, if we +could obtain thirty guineas for each, and at less than thirty guineas +Wordsworth will not part with the copyright of his volume of poems. We +shall offer the tragedies to no one, for we have determined to procure +the money some other way. If you choose the volume of poems, at +the price mentioned, to be paid at the time specified, i.e. thirty +guineas, to be paid sometime in the last fortnight of July, you may +have them; but remember, my dear fellow! I write to you now merely as +a bookseller, and entreat you, in your answer, to consider yourself +only; as to us, although money is necessary to our plan [that of +visiting Germany], yet the plan is not necessary to our happiness; and +if it were, W. would sell his poems for that sum to some one else, +or we could procure the money without selling the poems. So I entreat +you, again and again, in your answer, which must be immediate, +consider yourself only. + +Wordsworth has been caballed against _so long and so loudly_, that +he has found it impossible to prevail on the tenant of the Allfoxden +estate to let him the house, after their first agreement is expired, +so he must quit it at midsummer; whether we shall be able to procure +him a house and furniture near Stowey, we know not, and yet we must: +for the hills, and the woods, and the streams, and the sea, and the +shores would break forth into reproaches against us, if we did not +strain every nerve to keep their poet among them. Without joking, and +in serious sadness, Poole and I cannot endure to think of losing him. + +At all events, come down, Cottle, as soon as you can, but before +midsummer, and we will procure a horse easy as thy own soul, and we +will go on a roam to Lynton and Lynmouth, which, if thou comest in +May, will be in all their pride of woods and waterfalls, not to speak +of its august cliffs, and the green ocean, and the vast valley of +stones, all which live disdainful of the seasons, or accept new +honours only from the winter's snow. At all events come down, and +cease not to believe me much and affectionately your friend. + + + +TO JOSIAH WADE + +_A public example_ + + +Bristol, 26 _June_, 1814. + +DEAR SIR, + +For I am unworthy to call any good man friend--much less you, whose +hospitality and love I have abused; accept, however, my entreaties for +your forgiveness, and for your prayers. + +Conceive a poor miserable wretch, who for many years has been +attempting to beat off pain, by a constant recurrence to the vice that +reproduces it. Conceive a spirit in hell, employed in tracing out for +others the road to that heaven, from which his crimes exclude him! In +short, conceive whatever is most wretched, helpless, and hopeless, and +you will form as tolerable a notion of my state, as it is possible for +a good man to have. + +I used to think the text in St. James that 'he who offendeth in one +point, offends in all,' very harsh; but I now feel the awful, the +tremendous truth of it. In the one crime of OPIUM, what crime have +I not made myself guilty of! Ingratitude to my Maker! and to my +benefactors--injustice! _and unnatural cruelty to my poor children! +_--self-contempt for my repeated promise-breach, nay, too often, +actual falsehood! + +After my death, I earnestly entreat that a full and unqualified +narration of my wretchedness, and of its guilty cause, may be made +public, that, at least, some little good may be effected by the +direful example! + +May God Almighty bless you, and have mercy on your still affectionate, +and, in his heart, grateful + +S.T.C. + + + +TO THOMAS ALLSOP + +_Himself and his detractors_ + + +2 _Dec._ 1818. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +I cannot express how kind I felt your letter. Would to Heaven I had +had many with feelings like yours, 'accustomed to express themselves +warmly and (as far as the word is applicable to you), even +enthusiastically'. But alas! during the prime manhood of my intellect +I had nothing but cold water thrown on my efforts. I speak not now of +my systematic and most unprovoked maligners. On _them_ I have retorted +only by pity and by prayer. These may have, and doubtless have, joined +with the frivolity of 'the reading public' in checking and almost in +preventing the sale of my works; and so far have done injury to +my _purse_. _Me_ they have not injured. But I have loved with +enthusiastic self-oblivion those who have been so well pleased that +I should, year after year, flow with a hundred nameless rills into +_their_ main stream, that they could find nothing but cold praise and +effective discouragement of every attempt of mine to roll onward in a +distinct current of my own; who _admitted_ that the _Ancient Mariner_, +the _Christabel_, the _Remorse_, and some pages of the _Friend_ +were not without merit, but were abundantly anxious to acquit their +judgements of any blindness to the very numerous defects. Yet they +_knew_ that to _praise_, as mere praise, I was characteristically, +almost constitutionally, indifferent. In sympathy alone I found at +once nourishment and stimulus; and for sympathy _alone_ did my heart +crave. They knew, too, how long and faithfully I have acted on the +maxim, never to admit the _faults_ of a work of genius to those who +denied or were incapable of feeling and understanding the _beauties_; +not from wilful partiality, but as well knowing that in _saying_ truth +I should, to such critics, convey falsehood. If, in one instance, in +my literary life I have appeared to deviate from this rule, first, +it was not till the fame of the writer (which I had been for fourteen +years successfully toiling like a second Ali to build up) had been +established; and secondly and chiefly, with the purpose and, I may +safely add, with the _effect_ of rescuing the necessary task from +Malignant Defamers, and in order to set forth the excellences and the +trifling proportion which the defects bore to the excellences. But +this, my dear sir, is a mistake to which affectionate natures are too +liable, though I do not remember to have ever seen it noticed--the +mistaking those who are desirous and well pleased to be loved _by_ +you, for those who love you. Add, as a more general cause, the fact +that I neither am nor ever have been of any party. What wonder, then, +if I am left to decide which has been my worst enemy, the broad, +pre-determined abuse of the _Edinburgh Review_, &c., or the cold and +brief compliments, with the warm _regrets_, of the _Quarterly_? After +all, however, I have now but one sorrow relative to the ill success of +my literary toils (and toils they have been, _though not undelightful +toils_), and this arises wholly from the almost insurmountable +difficulties which the anxieties of to-day oppose to my completion +of the great work, the form and materials of which it has been the +employment of the best and most genial hours of the last twenty years +to mature and collect. + +If I could but have a tolerably numerous audience to my first, or +first and second Lectures on the _History of Philosophy_, I should +entertain a strong hope of success, because I know that these lectures +will be found by far the most interesting and _entertaining_ of any +that I have yet delivered, independent of the more permanent interest +of rememberable instruction. Few and unimportant would the errors of +men be, if they did but know, first, _what they themselves meant_; +and, secondly, what the _words_ mean by which they attempt to convey +their meaning, and I can conceive no subject so well fitted to +exemplify the mode and the importance of these two points as the +History of Philosophy, treated as in the scheme of these lectures. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The Great Work described_ + + +_Jan._ 1821. + +... I have already the _written_ materials and contents, requiring +only to be put together from the loose papers and commonplace or +memorandum books, and needing no other change, whether of omission, +addition, or correction, than the mere act of arranging, and the +opportunity of seeing the whole collectively bring with them of course +(1) Characteristics of Shakespeare's dramatic works, with a critical +review of each play; together with a relative and comparative critique +on the kind and degree of the merits and demerits of the dramatic +works of Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, and Massinger. The +History of the English Drama; the accidental advantages it afforded +to Shakespeare, without in the least detracting from the perfect +originality or proper creation of the Shakespearian Drama; the +contradistinction of the latter from the Greek Drama, and its still +remaining _uniqueness_, with the causes of this, from the combined +influences of Shakespeare himself, as man, poet, philosopher, and +finally, by conjunction of all these, dramatic poet; and of the age, +events, manners, and state of the English language. This work, with +every art of compression, amounts to three volumes of about five +hundred pages each. (2) Philosophical Analysis of the Genius and Works +of Dante, Spenser, Milton, Cervantes, and Calderon, with similar, but +more compressed criticisms on Chaucer, Ariosto, Donne, Rabelais, and +others, during the predominance of the Romantic Poetry. In one large +volume. These two works will, I flatter myself, form a complete code +of the principles of judgement and feeling applied to works of Taste; +and not of Poetry only, but of Poesy in all its forms, Painting, +Statuary, Music, &c., &c. (3) The History of Philosophy considered +as a Tendency of the Human Mind to exhibit the Powers of the Human +Reason, to discover by its own Strength the Origin and Laws of Man and +the World, from Pythagoras to Locke and Condillac. Two volumes. +(4) Letters on the Old and New Testament, and on the Doctrine +and Principles held in common by the Fathers and Founders of the +Reformation, addressed to a candidate for Holy Orders, including +advice on the Plan and Subjects of Preaching, proper to a Minister of +the Established Church. + +To the completion of these four works, I have literally nothing more +to do than to _transcribe_; but, as I before hinted, from so many +scraps and _sibylline_ leaves, including margins of books and blank +pages, that, unfortunately, I must be my own scribe, and not done by +myself, they will be all but lost; or perhaps (as has been too often +the case already) furnish feathers for the caps of others; some for +this purpose, and some to plume the arrows of detraction, to be let +fly against the luckless bird from whom they had been plucked or +moulted. + +In addition to these--of my GREAT WORK, to the preparation of which +more than twenty years of my life have been devoted, and on which +my hopes of extensive and permanent utility, of fame, in the noblest +sense of the word, mainly rest--that, by which I might, + + As now by thee, by all the good be known, + When this weak frame lies moulder'd in the grave, + Which self-surviving I might call my own, + Which folly cannot mar, nor hate deprave-- + The incense of those powers, which, risen in flame, + Might make me dear to Him from whom they came. + +Of this work, to which all my other writings (unless I except my +Poems, and these I can exclude in part only) are introductory and +preparative; and the result of which (if the premises be, as I, with +the most tranquil assurance, am convinced they are--insubvertible, +the deductions legitimate, and the conclusions commensurate, and only +commensurate, with both) must finally be a revolution of all that has +been called _philosophy_ or metaphysics in England and France, since +the era of the commencing predominance of the mechanical system at +the restoration of our second Charles, and with this the present +fashionable views, not only of religion, morals, and politics but +even of the modern physics and physiology. You will not blame the +earnestness of my expressions, nor the high importance which I attach +to this work: for how, with less noble objects, and less faith in +their attainment, could I stand acquitted of folly, and abuse of time, +talents, and learning in a labour of three-fourths of my intellectual +life? Of this work, something more than a volume has been dictated +by me, so as to exist fit for the press, to my friend and enlightened +pupil, Mr. Green; and more than as much again would have been evolved +and delivered to paper, but that, for the last six or eight months, +I have been compelled to break off our weekly meeting, from the +necessity of writing (alas! alas! of attempting to write) for +purposes, and on the subjects, of the passing day. Of my poetic works +I would fain finish the _Christabel_! Alas! for the proud time when I +planned, when I had present to my mind, the materials, as well as +the scheme, of the Hymns entitled _Spirit_, _Sun_, _Earth_, _Air_, +_Water_, _Fire_ and _Man_; and the Epic Poem on what still appears +to me the one only fit subject remaining for an epic poem--Jerusalem +besieged and destroyed by Titus. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Reminiscences_ + + +4 March, 1822. + +My Dearest Friend, + +I have been much more than ordinarily unwell for more than a week +past--my sleeps worse than my vigils, my nights than my days; + + --The night's dismay + Sadden'd and stunned the intervening day; + +but last night I had not only a calmer night, without roaming in my +dreams through any of Swedenborg's Hells _modérés_; but arose this +morning lighter and with a sense of _relief_.... + +I shall make you smile, as I did dear Mary Lamb, when I say that you +sometimes mistake my position. As individual to individual, from +my childhood, I do not remember feeling myself either superior or +inferior to any human being; except by an act of my own will in cases +of real or imagined moral or intellectual superiority. In regard to +worldly rank, from eight years old to nineteen, I was habituated, +nay, naturalised, to look up to men circumstanced as you are, as my +superiors--a large number of our governors, and almost _all_ of those +whom we regarded as greater men still, and whom we saw most of, _viz._ +our committee governors, were such--and as neither awake nor asleep +have I any other feelings than what I had at Christ's Hospital, +I distinctly remember that I felt a little flush of pride and +consequence--just like what we used to feel at school when the boys +came running to us--'Coleridge! here's your friends want you--they are +quite _grand_,' or 'It is quite a _lady_'--when I first heard who you +were, and laughed at myself for it with that pleasurable sensation +that, spite of my sufferings at that school, still accompanies any +sudden reawakening of our school-boy feelings and notions. And oh, +from sixteen to nineteen what hours of Paradise had Allen and I in +escorting the Miss Evanses home on a Saturday, who were then at a +milliner's whom we used to think, and who I believe really was, such +a nice lady;--and we used to carry thither, of a summer morning, the +pillage of the flower gardens within six miles of town, with Sonnet +or Love Rhyme wrapped round the nose-gay. To be feminine, kind, and +genteelly (what I should now call neatly) dressed, these were the only +things to which my head, heart, or imagination had any polarity, and +what I was then, I still am. + +God bless you and yours. + + + + +ROBERT SOUTHEY + +1774-1843 + + + +TO JOSEPH COTTLE + +_Question of copyrights_ + + +Greta Hall, 20 _April_, 1808. + +My dear Cottle,... + +What you say of my copyrights affected me very much. Dear Cottle, set +your heart at rest on that subject. It ought to be at rest. These were +yours, fairly bought, and fairly sold. You bought them on the chance +of their success, which no London bookseller would have done; and had +they not been bought, they could not have been published at all. Nay, +if you had not purchased _Joan of Arc_, the poem never would have +existed, nor should I, in all probability, ever have obtained that +reputation which is the capital on which I subsist, nor that power +which enables me to support it. + +But this is not all. Do you suppose, Cottle, that I have forgotten +those true and most essential acts of friendship which you showed me +when I stood most in need of them? Your house was my house when I had +no other. The very money with which I bought my wedding-ring, and paid +my marriage fees, was supplied by you. It was with your sisters I left +Edith during my six months' absence, and for the six months after my +return it was from you that I received, week by week, the little on +which we lived, till I was enabled to live by other means. It is not +the settling of a cash account that can cancel obligations like these. +You are in the habit of preserving your letters, and if you were +not, I would entreat you to preserve _this_, that it might be seen +hereafter. Sure I am, there never was a more generous or a kinder +heart than yours; and you will believe me when I add, that there does +not live that man upon earth, whom I remember with more gratitude +and more affection. My heart throbs and my eyes burn with these +recollections. Good night! my dear old friend and benefactor. + + + +TO JOHN MAY + +_Waterloo_ + + +Liège, 6 _Oct._ 1815. Six p.m. + +My dear friend, + +I have a happy habit of making the best of all things; and being just +at this time as uncomfortable as the dust and bustle, and all the +disagreeables of an inn in a large filthy manufacturing city can make +me, I have called for pen, ink, and paper, and am actually writing in +the bar, the door open to the yard opposite to this unwiped table, the +doors open to the public room, where two men are dining, and talking +French, and a woman servant at my elbow is lighting a fire for our +party. Presently the folding-doors are to be shut, the ladies are to +descend from their chambers, the bar will be kept appropriated to our +house, the male part of the company will get into good humour, dinner +will be ready, and then I must lay aside the grey goose-quill. As a +preliminary to these promised comforts, the servant is mopping the +hearth, which is composed (like a tesselated pavement) of little +bricks about two inches long by half an inch wide, set within a broad +black stone frame. The fuel is of fire-balls, a mixture of pulverized +coal and clay. I have seen a great deal and heard a great deal,--more, +indeed, than I can keep pace with in my journal, though I strive hard +to do it; but I minute down short notes in my pencil-book with all +possible care, and hope, in the end, to lose nothing.... + +Flanders is a most interesting country. Bruges, the most striking city +I have ever seen, an old city in perfect preservation. It seems as if +not a house had been built during the last two centuries, and not a +house suffered to pass to decay. The poorest people seem to be well +lodged, and there is a general air of sufficiency, cleanliness, +industry, and comfort, which I have never seen in any other place. The +cities have grown worse as we advanced. At Namur we reached a dirty +city, situated in a romantic country; the Meuse there reminded me of +the Thames from your delightful house, an island in size and shape +resembling that upon which I have often wished for a grove of poplars, +coming just in the same position. From thence along the river to this +abominable place, the country is, for the greater part, as lovely as +can be imagined.... + +Our weather hitherto has been delightful. This was especially +fortunate at Waterloo and at Ligny, where we had much ground to walk +over. It would surprise you to see how soon nature has recovered from +the injuries of war. The ground is ploughed and sown, and grain and +flowers and seeds already growing over the field of battle, which is +still strewn with vestiges of the slaughter, caps, cartridges, boxes, +hats, &c. We picked up some French cards and some bullets, and we +purchased a French pistol and two of the eagles which the infantry +wear upon their caps. What I felt upon this ground, it would be +difficult to say; what I saw, and still more what I heard, there is no +time at present for saying. In prose and in verse you shall some day +hear the whole. At Les Quatre Bras, I saw two graves, which probably +the dogs or the swine had opened. In the one were the ribs of a human +body, projecting through the mould; in the other, the whole skeleton +exposed. Some of our party told me of a third, in which the worms were +at work, but I shrunk from the sight. You will rejoice to hear that +the English are as well spoken of for their deportment in peace as in +war. It is far otherwise with the Prussians. Concerning them there is +but one opinion; their brutality is said to exceed that of the French, +and of their intolerable insolence I have heard but too many proofs. +That abominable old Frederic made them a military nation, and this is +the inevitable consequence. This very day we passed a party on their +way towards France--some hundred or two. Two gentlemen and two ladies +of the country, in a carriage, had come up with them; and these +ruffians would not allow them to pass, but compelled them to wait and +follow the slow pace of foot soldiers! This we ourselves saw. Next to +the English, the Belgians have the best character for discipline.... + +I bought at Bruges a French History of Brazil, just published by M. +Alphonse de Beauchamp, in 3 vols. 8vo. He says, in his Preface, that +having finished the first two volumes, he thought it advisable to see +if any new light had been thrown upon the subject by modern authors. +Meantime, a compilation upon this history had appeared in England, +but the English author, Mr. Southey, had brought no new lights; he had +promised much for his second volume, but the hope of literary Europe +had been again deceived, for this second volume, so emphatically +promised, had not appeared. I dare say no person regrets this delay +so much as M. Beauchamp, he having stolen the whole of his two first +volumes, and about the third part of the other, from the very Mr. +Southey whom he abuses. He has copied my references as the list of his +own authorities (MSS. and all), and he has committed blunders which +prove, beyond all doubt, that he does not understand Portuguese. I +have been much diverted by this fellow's impudence. + +The table is laid, and the knives and forks rattling a pleasant note +of preparation, as the woman waiter arranges them. + +God bless you! I have hurried through the sheet, and thus pleasantly +beguiled what would have been a very unpleasant hour. We are all well, +and your god-daughter has seen a live emperor at Brussels. I feel the +disadvantage of speaking French ill, and understanding it by the ear +worse. Nevertheless, I speak it without remorse, make myself somehow +or other understood, and get at what I want to know. Once more, God +bless you, my dear friend. + + + +To HENRY TAYLOR + +_Anastasius Hope_ + + +Keswick, 15 _July_, 1831. + +... Have you seen the strange book which Anastasius Hope left +for publication, and which his representatives, in spite of all +dissuasion, have published? His notion of immortality and heaven is, +that at the consummation of all things he, and you, and I, and John +Murray, and Nebuchadnezzar, and Lambert the fat man, and the living +skeleton, and Queen Elizabeth, and the Hottentot Venus, and Thurtell, +and Probert, and the twelve Apostles, and the noble army of martyrs, +and Genghis Khan, and all his armies, and Noah with all his ancestors +and all his posterity--yea, all men and all women, and all children +that have ever been or ever shall be, saints and sinners alike--are +all to be put together, and made into one great celestial eternal +human being. He does not seem to have known how nearly this approaches +to Swedenborg's fancy. I do not like the scheme. I don't like the +notion of being mixed up with Hume, and Hunt, and Whittle Harvey, and +Philpotts, and Lord Althorpe, and the Huns, and the Hottentots, and +the Jews, and the Philistines, and the Scotch, and the Irish. God +forbid! I hope to be I myself; I, in an English heaven, with you +yourself--you, and some others, without whom heaven would be no heaven +to me. God bless you! + + + +TO EDWARD MOXON + +_Recollections of the Lambs_ + + +Keswick, 2 _Feb._ 1836. + +My dear sir, + +I have been too closely engaged in clearing off the second volume of +Cowper to reply to your inquiries concerning poor Lamb sooner. His +acquaintance with Coleridge began at Christ's Hospital; Lamb was +some two years, I think, his junior. Whether he was ever one of the +_Grecians_ there, might be ascertained, I suppose, by inquiring. My +own impression is, that he was not. Coleridge introduced me to him +in the winter of 1794-5, and to George Dyer also, from whom, if his +memory has not failed, you might probably learn more of Lamb's early +history than from any other person. Lloyd, Wordsworth, and Hazlitt +became known to him through their connexion with Coleridge. + +When I saw the family (one evening only, and at that time), they were +lodging somewhere near Lincoln's Inn, on the western side (I forget +the street), and were evidently in uncomfortable circumstances. The +father and mother were both living; and I have some dim recollection +of the latter's invalid appearance. The father's senses had failed him +before that time. He published some poems in quarto. Lamb showed me +once an imperfect copy: the _Sparrow's Wedding_ was the title of the +longest piece, and this was the author's favourite; he liked, in his +dotage, to hear Charles read it. + +His most familiar friend, when I first saw him, was White, who held +some office at Christ's Hospital, and continued intimate with him as +long as he lived. You know what Elia says of him. He and Lamb were +joint authors of the _Original Letters of Falstaff_. Lamb, I believe, +first appeared as an author in the second edition of Coleridge's +_Poems_ (Bristol, 1797), and, secondly, in the little volume of blank +verse with Lloyd (1798). Lamb, Lloyd, and White were inseparable in +1798; the two latter at one time lodged together, though no two men +could be imagined more unlike each other. Lloyd had no drollery in his +nature; White seemed to have nothing else. You will easily understand +how Lamb could sympathize with both. + +Lloyd, who used to form sudden friendships, was all but a stranger +to me, when unexpectedly he brought Lamb down to visit me at a little +village (Burton) near Christchurch, in Hampshire, where I was lodging +in a very humble cottage. This was in the summer of 1797, and then, or +in the following year, my correspondence with Lamb began. I saw more +of him in 1802 than at any other time, for I was then six months +resident in London. His visit to this county was before I came to it; +it must have been either in that or in the following year: it was to +Lloyd and to Coleridge. + +I had forgotten one of his schoolfellows, who is still living--C.V. +Le Grice, a clergyman at or near Penzance. From him you might learn +something of his boyhood. + +Cottle has a good likeness of Lamb, in chalk, taken by an artist named +Robert Hancock, about the year 1798. It looks older than Lamb was at +that time; but he was old-looking. + +Coleridge introduced him to Godwin, shortly after the first number +of the _Anti-Jacobin Magazine and Review_ was published, with a +caricature of Gillray's, in which Coleridge and I were introduced with +asses' heads, and Lloyd and Lamb as toad and frog. Lamb got warmed +with whatever was on the table, became disputatious, and said things +to Godwin which made him quietly say, 'Pray, Mr. Lamb, are you toad +or frog?' Mrs. Coleridge will remember the scene, which was to her +sufficiently uncomfortable. But the next morning S.T.C. called on +Lamb, and found Godwin breakfasting with him, from which time their +intimacy began. + +His angry letter to me in the _Magazine_ arose out of a notion that +an expression of mine in the _Quarterly Review_ would hurt the sale of +_Elia_; some one, no doubt, had said that it would. I meant to serve +the book, and very well remember how the offence happened. I had +written that it wanted nothing to render it altogether delightful but +a _saner_ religious feeling. _This_ would have been the proper word if +any other person had written the book. Feeling its extreme unfitness +as soon as it was written, I altered it immediately for the first word +which came into my head, intending to remodel the sentence when it +should come to me in the proof; and that proof never came. There can +be no objection to your printing all that passed upon the occasion, +beginning with the passage in the _Quarterly Review_, and giving his +letter. + +I have heard Coleridge say that, in a fit of derangement, Lamb fancied +himself to be young Norval. He told me this in relation to one of his +poems. + +If you will print my lines to him upon his _Album Verses_, I will +send you a corrected copy. You received his letters, I trust, which +Cuthbert took with him to town in October. I wish they had been more, +and wish, also, that I had more to tell you concerning him, and what +I have told were of more value. But it is from such fragments of +recollection, and such imperfect notices, that the materials for +biography must, for the most part, be collected. + + + + +=CHARLES LAMB= + +1775-1834 + + + +TO SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE + +_Temporary frenzy_ + + +27 _May_, 1796. + +... Coleridge! I know not what suffering scenes you have gone through +at Bristol. My life has been somewhat diversified of late. The six +weeks that finished last year and began this, your very humble servant +spent very agreeably in a madhouse, at Hoxton. I am got somewhat +rational now, and don't bite anyone. But mad I was! And many a vagary +my imagination played with me, enough to make a volume, if all were +told. My sonnets I have extended to the number of nine since I saw +you, and will some day communicate to you. I am beginning a poem +in blank verse, which, if I finish, I publish.... Coleridge! it may +convince you of my regards for you when I tell you my head ran on you +in my madness, as much almost as on another person, who I am inclined +to think was the more immediate cause of my temporary frenzy. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A friend in need_ + + +_Thursday, 11 June_, 1796. + +... After all, you cannot, nor ever will, write anything with which I +shall be so delighted as what I have heard yourself repeat. You came +to town, and I saw you at a time when your heart was yet bleeding +with recent wounds. Like yourself, I was sore galled with disappointed +hope. You had + + --many an holy lay + That, mourning, soothed the mourner on his way; + +I had ears of sympathy to drink them in, and they yet vibrate pleasant +on the sense. When I read in your little volume your nineteenth +effusion, or the twenty-eighth or twenty-ninth, or what you call the +_Sigh_, I think I hear _you_ again. I image to myself the little smoky +room at the _Salutation and Cat_, where we have sat together through +the winter nights, beguiling the cares of life with Poesy. When you +left London, I felt a dismal void in my heart. I found myself cut off, +at one and the same time, from two most dear to me. 'How blest with +ye the path could I have trod of quiet life!' In your conversation you +had blended so many pleasant fancies that they cheated me of my grief. +But in your absence the tide of melancholy rushed in again, and did +its worst mischief by overwhelming my reason. I have recovered, but +feel a stupor that makes me indifferent to the hopes and fears of +this life. I sometimes wish to introduce a religious turn of mind, +but habits are strong things, and my religious fervours are confined, +alas! to some fleeting moments of occasional solitary devotion. A +correspondence, opening with you, has roused me a little from my +lethargy, and made me conscious of existence. Indulge me in it: I will +not be very troublesome! At some future time I will amuse you with +an account, as full as my memory will permit, of the strange turn my +frenzy took. I look back upon it at times with a gloomy kind of envy: +for, while it lasted, I had many, many hours of pure happiness. Dream +not, Coleridge, of having tasted all the grandeur and wildness of +fancy till you have gone mad! All now seems to me vapid, comparatively +so. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The tragedy_ + + +27 _Sept_. 1796. + +MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +White, or some of my friends, or the public papers, by this time may +have informed you of the terrible calamities that have fallen on +our family. I will only give you the outlines: My poor dear, dearest +sister, in a fit of insanity, has been the death of our own mother. I +was at hand only time enough to snatch the knife out of her grasp. She +is at present in a madhouse, from whence I fear she must be moved to +an hospital. God has preserved to me my senses; I eat, and drink, and +sleep, and have my judgement, I believe, very sound. My poor father +was slightly wounded, and I am left to take care of him and my aunt. +Mr. Norris, of the Bluecoat School, has been very kind to us, and we +have no other friend; but, thank God, I am very calm and composed, and +able to do the best that remains to do. Write as religious a letter as +possible, but no mention of what is gone and done with. With me 'the +former things are passed away', and I have something more to do than +to feel. + +God Almighty have us in His keeping! + +Mention nothing of poetry. I have destroyed every vestige of past +vanities of that kind. Do as you please, but if you publish, publish +mine (I give free leave) without name or initial, and never send me a +book, I charge you. + +Your own judgement will convince you not to take any notice of this +yet to your dear wife. You look after your family; I have reason +and strength left to take care of mine. I charge you, don't think of +coming to see me. Write. I will not see you if you come. God Almighty +love you and all of us! + + + +TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + +_The delights of London_ + + +30 _Jan_. 1801. + +I ought before this to have replied to your very kind invitation into +Cumberland. With you and your sister I could gang anywhere; but I am +afraid whether I shall ever be able to afford so desperate a journey. +Separate from the pleasure of your company, I don't much care if I +never see a mountain in my life. I have passed all my days in London, +until I have formed as many and intense local attachments as any of +you mountaineers can have done with dead Nature. The lighted shops of +the Strand and Fleet Street; the innumerable trades, tradesmen, and +customers, coaches, waggons, playhouses; all the bustle and wickedness +round about Covent Garden; the very women of the Town; the watchmen, +drunken scenes, rattles;--life awake, if you awake, at all hours of +the night; the crowds, the very dirt and mud, the sun shining upon +houses and pavements, the printshops, the old book-stalls, parsons +cheapening books, coffee-houses, steams of soups from kitchens, the +pantomimes--London itself a pantomime and a masquerade--all these +things work themselves into my mind, and feed me, without a power +of satiating me. The wonder of these sights impels me often into +night-walks about her crowded streets, and I often shed tears in the +motley Strand from fullness of joy at so much life. All these +emotions must be strange to you; so are your rural emotions to me. But +consider, what must I have been doing all my life, not to have lent +great portions of my heart with usury to such scenes? + +My attachments are all local, purely local. I have no passion (or have +had none since I was in love, and then it was the spurious engendering +of poetry and books) to groves and valleys. The rooms where I was +born, the furniture which has been before my eyes all my life, a +book-case which has followed me about like a faithful dog, (only +exceeding him in knowledge,) wherever I have moved, old chairs, +old tables, streets, squares, where I have sunned myself, my old +school,--these are my mistresses,--have I not enough, without your +mountains? I do not envy you. I should pity you, did I not know that +the mind will make friends of anything. Your sun, and moon, and skies, +and hills, and lakes, affect me no more, or scarcely come to me in +more venerable characters, than as a gilded room with tapestry and +tapers, where I might live with handsome visible objects. I consider +the clouds above me but as a roof beautifully painted, but unable to +satisfy the mind: and at last, like the pictures of the apartment of +a connoisseur, unable to afford him any longer a pleasure. So fading +upon me, from disuse, have been the beauties of Nature, as they have +been confinedly called; so ever fresh, and green, and warm are all the +inventions of men, and assemblies of men in this great city. I should +certainly have laughed with dear Joanna. + +Give my kindest love, and my sister's, to D. and yourself; and a kiss +from me to little Barbara Lewthwaite. Thank you for liking my play! + + + +TO THOMAS MANNING + +_At the Lakes_ + + +London, 24 _Sept_. 1802. + +My dear Manning, + +Since the date of my last letter I have been a traveller. A strong +desire seized me of visiting remote regions. My first impulse was to +go and see Paris. It was a trivial objection to my aspiring mind, that +I did not understand a word of the language, since I certainly intend +some time in my life to see Paris, and equally certainly intend never +to learn the language; therefore that could be no objection. However, +I am very glad I did not go, because you had left Paris (I see) before +I could have set out. I believe Stoddart promising to go with me +another year prevented that plan. My next scheme (for to my restless, +ambitious mind London was become a bed of thorns) was to visit the +far-famed peak in Derbyshire, where the Devil sits, they say, without +breeches. _This_ my purer mind rejected as indelicate. And my final +resolve was a tour to the Lakes. I set out with Mary to Keswick, +without giving Coleridge any notice, for my time, being precious, did +not admit of it. He received us with all the hospitality in the world, +and gave up his time to show us all the wonders of the country. He +dwells upon a small hill by the side of Keswick, in a comfortable +house, quite enveloped on all sides by a net of mountains: great +floundering bears and monsters they seemed, all couchant and asleep. +We got in in the evening, travelling in a post-chaise from Penrith, in +the midst of a gorgeous sunshine, which transmuted all the mountains +into colours, purple, &c., &c. We thought we had got into fairy-land. +But that went off (as it never came again; while we stayed we had no +more fine sunsets); and we entered Coleridge's comfortable study just +in the dusk, when the mountains were all dark with clouds upon their +heads. Such an impression I never received from objects of sight +before, nor do I suppose I can ever again. Glorious creatures, fine +old fellows, Skiddaw, &c. I shall never forget ye, how ye lay about +that night, like an intrenchment; gone to bed, as it seemed for the +night, but promising that ye were to be seen in the morning. Coleridge +had got a blazing fire in his study; which is a large, antique, +ill-shaped room, with an old-fashioned organ, never played upon, big +enough for a church, shelves of scattered folios, an Aeolian harp, and +an old sofa, half bed, &c. And all looking out upon the last fading +view of Skiddaw, and his broad-breasted brethren: what a night! Here +we stayed three full weeks, in which time I visited Wordsworth's +cottage, where we stayed a day or two with the Clarksons (good people, +and most hospitable, at whose house we tarried one day and night), and +saw Lloyd. The Wordsworths were gone to Calais. They have since been +in London, and passed much time with us: he is now gone into Yorkshire +to be married. So we have seen Keswick, Grasmere, Ambleside, Ulswater +(where the Clarksons live), and a place at the other end of Ulswater; +I forget the name; to which we travelled on a very sultry day, over +the middle of Helvellyn. We have clambered up to the top of Skiddaw, +and I have waded up the bed of Lodore. In fine, I have satisfied +myself that there is such a thing as that which tourists call +_romantic_, which I very much suspected before: they make such a +spluttering about it, and toss their splendid epithets around them, +till they give as dim a light as at four o'clock next morning the +lamps do after an illumination. Mary was excessively tired when she +got about half-way up Skiddaw, but we came to a cold rill (than which +nothing can be imagined more cold, running over cold stones), and with +the reinforcement of a draught of cold water, she surmounted it most +manfully. Oh, its fine black head, and the bleak air atop of it, with +a prospect of mountains all about and about, making you giddy; and +then Scotland afar off, and the border countries so famous in song and +ballad! It was a day that will stand out, like a mountain, I am sure, +in my life. But I am returned (I have now been come home near three +weeks; I was a month out), and you cannot conceive the degradation +I felt at first, from being accustomed to wander free as air among +mountains, and bathe in rivers without being controlled by any one, to +come home and _work_. I felt very _little_. I had been dreaming I was +a very great man. But that is going off, and I find I shall conform +in time to that state of life to which it has pleased God to call me. +Besides, after all, Fleet Street and the Strand are better places to +live in for good and all than amidst Skiddaw. Still, I turn back to +those great places where I wandered about, participating in their +greatness. After all, I could not _live_ in Skiddaw. I could spend +a year, two, three years among them, but I must have a prospect of +seeing Fleet Street at the end of that time, or I should mope and pine +away, I know. Still, Skiddaw is a fine creature. + +My habits are changing, I think, i.e. from drunk to sober. Whether +I shall be happier or not remains to be proved. I shall certainly be +more happy in a morning; but whether I shall not sacrifice the +fat, and the marrow, and the kidneys, i.e. the night, glorious, +care-drowning night, that heals all our wrongs, pours wine into our +mortifications, changes the scene from indifferent and flat to bright +and brilliant!--O Manning, if I should have formed a diabolical +resolution, by the time you come to England, of not admitting any +spirituous liquors into my house, will you be my guest on such +shame-worthy terms? Is life, with such limitations, worth trying? The +truth is, that my liquors bring a nest of friendly harpies about +my house, who consume me. This is a pitiful tale to be read at St. +Gothard, but it is just now nearest my heart. Fenwick is a ruined man. +He is hiding himself from his creditors, and has sent his wife and +children into the country. Fell, my other drunken companion (that has +been: _nam hic caestus artemque repono_), is turned editor of a Naval +Chronicle. Godwin continues a steady friend, though the same facility +does not remain of visiting him often. X. has detached Marshall from +his house; Marshall, the man who went to sleep when the _Ancient +Mariner_ was reading; the old, steady, unalterable friend of the +Professor. Holcraft is not yet come to town. I expect to see him, and +will deliver your message. Things come crowding in to say, and no +room for 'em. Some things are too little to be told, i.e. to have a +preference; some are too big and circumstantial. Thanks for yours, +which was most delicious. Would I had been with you, benighted, &c.! +I fear my head is turned with wandering. I shall never be the same +acquiescent being. Farewell. Write again quickly, for I shall not +like to hazard a letter, not knowing where the fates have carried you. +Farewell, my dear fellow. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Dissuasion from Tartary_ + + +19 _Feb_. 1803. + +MY DEAR MANNING, + +The general scope of your letter afforded no indications of insanity, +but some particular points raised a scruple. For God's sake don't +think any more of 'Independent Tartary'. What are you to do among such +Ethiopians? Is there no _lineal descendant_ of Prester John? Is the +chair empty? Is the sword unswayed?--depend upon it they'll never +make you their king, as long as any branch of that great stock +is remaining. I tremble for your Christianity.... Read Sir John +Mandeville's Travels to cure you, or come over to England. There is +a Tartar-man now exhibiting at Exeter Change. Come and talk with him, +and hear what he says first. Indeed, he is no very favourable specimen +of his countrymen! But perhaps the best thing you can do, is to _try_ +to get the idea out of your head. For this purpose repeat to yourself +every night, after you have said your prayers, the words, Independent +Tartary, Independent Tartary, two or three times, and associate with +them the _idea_ of _oblivion_ ('tis Hartley's method with obstinate +memories), or say, Independent, Independent, have I not already got +an _independence_? That was a clever way of the old Puritans, +pun-divinity. My dear friend, think what a sad pity it would be to +bury such _parts_ in heathen countries, among nasty, unconversable, +horse-belching, Tartar-people! Some say they are Cannibals; and then, +conceive a Tartar-fellow _eating_ my friend, and adding the _cool +malignity_ of mustard and vinegar! I am afraid 'tis the reading of +Chaucer has misled you; his foolish stories about Cambuscan, and the +ring, and the horse of brass. Believe me, there are no such things, +'tis all the poet's _invention_; but if there were such darling things +as old Chaucer sings, I would _up_ behind you on the horse of brass, +and frisk off for Prester John's country. But these are all tales; +a horse of brass never flew, and a king's daughter never talked with +birds! The Tartars, really, are a cold, insipid, smouchy set. You'll +be sadly moped (if you are not eaten) among them. Pray _try_ and cure +yourself. Take hellebore (the counsel is Horace's, 'twas none of my +thought _originally_). Shave yourself oftener. Eat no saffron, for +saffron-eaters contract a terrible Tartar-like yellow. Pray, to avoid +the fiend. Eat nothing that gives the heart-burn. _Shave the upper_ +_lip_. Go about like an European. Read no books of voyages (they are +nothing but lies), only now and then a romance, to keep the fancy +_under_. Above all, don't go to any sights of _wild beasts. That +has been your ruin_. Accustom yourself to write familiar letters, on +common subjects, to your friends in England, such as are of a moderate +understanding. And think about common things more.... I supped last +night with Rickman, and met a merry _natural_ captain, who pleases +himself vastly with once having made a pun at Otaheite in the O. +language. 'Tis the same man who said Shakespeare he liked, because +he was so _much of the gentleman_. Rickman is a man 'absolute in all +numbers'. I think I may one day bring you acquainted, if you do not +go to Tartary first; for you'll never come back. Have a care, my dear +friend, of Anthropophagi! their stomachs are always craving. 'Tis +terrible to be weighed out at five pence a-pound. To sit at table (the +reverse of fishes in Holland), not as a guest, but as a meat. + +God bless you: do come to England. Air and exercise may do great +things. Talk with some minister. Why not your father? + +God dispose all for the best. I have discharged my duty. + + + +To MRS. WORDSWORTH + +_Friends' importunities_ + + +East India House, 18 _Feb_. 1818. + +MY DEAR MRS. WORDSWORTH, + +I have repeatedly taken pen in hand to answer your kind letter. My +sister should more properly have done it, but she having failed, I +consider myself answerable for her debts. I am now trying to do it +in the midst of commercial noises, and with a quill which seems more +ready to glide into arithmetical figures and names of gourds, cassia, +cardemoms, aloes, ginger, or tea, than into kindly responses and +friendly recollections. The reason why I cannot write letters at home, +is, that I am never alone. Plato's--(I write to W.W. now)--Plato's +double-animal parted never longed more to be reciprocally re-united in +the system of its first creation, than I sometimes do to be but for +a moment single and separate. Except my morning's walk to the office, +which is like treading on sands of gold for that reason, I am never +so. I cannot walk home from office but some officious friend offers +his unwelcome courtesies to accompany me. All the morning I am +pestered. I could sit and gravely cast up sums in great books, or +compare sum with sum, and write 'paid' against this, and 'unpaid' +against t'other, and yet reserve in some corner of my mind 'some +darling thoughts all my own',--faint memory of some passage in a book, +or the tone of an absent friend's voice--a snatch of Miss Burrell's +singing, or a gleam of Fanny Kelly's divine plain face. The two +operations might be going on at the same time without thwarting, as +the sun's two motions (earth's, I mean), or, as I sometimes turn +round till I am giddy, in my back parlour, while my sister is walking +longitudinally in the front; or, as the shoulder of veal twists round +with the spit, while the smoke wreathes up the chimney. But there are +a set of amateurs of the Belles Lettres--the gay science--who come to +me as a sort of rendezvous, putting questions of criticism, of British +Institutions, Lalla Rookhs, &c.--what Coleridge said at the lecture +last night--who have the form of reading men, but, for any possible +use reading can be to them, but to talk of, might as well have been +Ante-Cadmeans born, or have lain sucking out the sense of an Egyptian +hieroglyph as long as the pyramids will last, before they should +find it. These pests worrit me at business, and in all its intervals, +perplexing my accounts, poisoning my little salutary warming-time at +the fire, puzzling my paragraphs if I take a newspaper, cramming in +between my own free thoughts and a column of figures, which had come +to an amicable compromise but for them. Their noise ended, one of +them, as I said, accompanies me home, lest I should be solitary for +a moment; he at length takes his welcome leave at the door; up I go, +mutton on table, hungry as hunter, hope to forget my cares, and bury +them in the agreeable abstraction of mastication; knock at the door, +in comes Mr. ----, or Mr. ----, or Demi-gorgon, or my brother, or +somebody, to prevent my eating alone--a process absolutely +necessary to my poor wretched digestion. O, the pleasure of eating +alone!--eating my dinner alone! let me think of it. But in they +come, and make it absolutely necessary that I should open a bottle of +orange--for my meat turns into stone when anyone dines with me, if I +have not wine. Wine can mollify stones; then _that_ wine turns into +acidity, acerbity, misanthropy, a hatred of my interrupters--(God +bless 'em! I love some of 'em dearly), and with the hatred, a still +greater aversion to their going away. Bad is the dead sea they bring +upon me, choking and deadening, but worse is the deader dry sand they +leave me on, if they go before bed-time. Come never, I would say to +these spoilers of my dinner; but if you come, never go! The fact is, +this interruption does not happen very often; but every time it comes +by surprise, that present bane of my life, orange wine, with all its +dreary stifling consequences, follows. Evening company I should always +like had I any mornings, but I am saturated with human faces (_divine_ +forsooth!) and voices all the golden morning; and five evenings in a +week would be as much as I should covet to be in company, but I +assure you that is a wonderful week in which I can get two, or one, to +myself. I am never C.L., but always C.L. & Co. He who thought it +not good for man to be alone, preserve me from the more prodigious +monstrosity of being never by myself! I forget bed-time, but even +there these sociable frogs clamber up to annoy me. Once a week, +generally some singular evening that, being alone, I go to bed at the +hour I ought always to be a-bed; just close to my bed-room window is +the club-room of a public-house, where a set of singers, I take them +to be chorus singers of the two theatres (it must be _both of them_), +begin their orgies. They are a set of fellows (as I conceive) who, +being limited by their talents to the burthen of the song at the +play-houses, in revenge have got the common popular airs by Bishop, or +some cheap composer, arranged for choruses, that is, to be sung all in +chorus. At least, I never can catch any of the text of the plain song, +nothing but the Babylonish choral howl at the tail on't. 'That fury +being quench'd'--the howl I mean--a burden succeeds of shouts and +clapping, and knocking of the table. At length overtasked nature drops +under it, and escapes for a few hours into the society of the sweet +silent creatures of dreams, which go away with mocks and mows at +cockcrow. And then I think of the words Christabel's father used +(bless me, I have dipt in the wrong ink!) to say every morning by way +of variety when he awoke: + + Every knell, the Baron saith, + Wakes us up to a world of death-- + +or something like it. All I mean by this senseless interrupted tale, +is, that by my central situation I am a little over-companied. Not +that I have any animosity against the good creatures that are so +anxious to drive away the harpy solitude from me. I like 'em, and +cards, and a cheerful glass; but I mean merely to give you an idea +between office confinement and after-office society, how little time +I can call my own. I mean only to draw a picture, not to make an +inference. I would not that I know of have it otherwise. I only wish +sometimes I could exchange some of my faces and voices for the faces +and voices which a late visitation brought most welcome, and carried +away, leaving regret, but more pleasure, even a kind of gratitude, at +being so often favoured with that kind northern visitation. My London +faces and noises don't hear me--I mean no disrespect, or I should +explain myself, that instead of their return 220 times a year, and +the return of W.W., &c., seven times in 104 weeks, some more equal +distribution might be found. I have scarce room to put in Mary's kind +love, and my poor name ...--goes on lecturing.... I mean to hear some +of the course, but lectures are not much to my taste, whatever the +lecturer may be. If _read_, they are dismal flat, and you can't think +why you are brought together to hear a man read his works, which you +could read so much better at leisure yourself; if delivered extempore, +I am always in pain, lest the gift of utterance should suddenly fail +the orator in the middle, as it did me at the dinner given in honour +of me at the London Tavern. 'Gentlemen,' said I, and there I stopped; +the rest my feelings were under the necessity of supplying. Mrs. +Wordsworth _will_ go on, kindly haunting us with visions of seeing the +lakes once more, which never can be realised. Between us there is a +great gulf, not of inexplicable moral antipathies and distances, I +hope, as there seemed to be between me and that gentleman concerned +in the Stamp Office, that I so strangely recoiled from at Haydon's. I +think I had an instinct that he was the head of an office. I hate all +such people--accountants' deputy accountants. The dear abstract notion +of the East India Company, as long as she is unseen, is pretty, rather +poetical; but as she makes herself manifest by the persons of such +beasts, I loathe and detest her as the scarlet what-do-you-call-her +of Babylon. I thought, after abridging us of all our red-letter days, +they had done their worst; but I was deceived in the length to which +heads of offices, those true liberty-haters, can go. They are the +tyrants; not Ferdinand, nor Nero. By a decree passed this week, they +have abridged us of the immemorially-observed custom of going at one +o'clock of a Saturday, the little shadow of a holiday left us. Dear +W.W., be thankful for liberty. + + + +To SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE + +_The famous pigling_ + + +9 _March_, 1822. + +DEAR COLERIDGE, + +It gives me great satisfaction to hear that the pig turned out so +well: they are such interesting creatures at a certain age. What a +pity such buds should blow out into the maturity of rank bacon! You +had all some of the crackling and brain sauce. Did you remember to rub +it with butter, and gently dredge it a little, just before the crisis? +Did the eyes come away kindly with no Oedipean avulsion? Was the +crackling the colour of the ripe pomegranate? Had you no complement of +boiled neck of mutton before it, to blunt the edge of delicate desire? +Did you flesh maiden teeth in it? Not that _I_ sent the pig, or can +form the remotest guess what part Owen could play in the business. I +never knew him give anything away in my life. He would not begin with +strangers. I suspect the pig, after all, was meant for me; but at the +unlucky juncture of time being absent, the present somehow went round +to Highgate. To confess an honest truth, a pig is one of those things +which I could never think of sending away. Teal, widgeon, snipes, +barn-door fowls, ducks, geese--your tame villatic things--Welsh +mutton, collars of brawn, sturgeon, fresh or pickled, your potted +char, Swiss cheeses, French pies, early grapes, muscadines, I impart +as freely unto my friends as to myself. They are but self extended, +but pardon me if I stop somewhere. Where the fine feeling of +benevolence giveth a higher smack than the sensual rarity, there my +friends (or any good man) may command me; but pigs are pigs, and +I myself therein am nearest to myself. Nay, I should think it an +affront, an undervaluing done to Nature who bestowed such a boon upon +me, if in a churlish mood I parted with the precious gift. One of the +bitterest pangs of remorse I ever felt was when a child--when my kind +old aunt had strained her pocket-strings to bestow a sixpenny +whole plum-cake upon me. In my way home through the Borough I met a +venerable old man, not a mendicant, but thereabouts; a look-beggar, +not a verbal petitionist; and in the coxcombry of taught charity I +gave away the cake to him. I walked on a little in all the pride of an +Evangelical peacock, when of a sudden my old aunt's kindness crossed +me; the sum it was to her; the pleasure she had a right to expect +that I--not the old impostor--should take in eating her cake; the +ingratitude by which, under the colour of a Christian virtue, I had +frustrated her cherished purpose. I sobbed, wept, and took it to +heart so grievously, that I think I never suffered the like; and I was +right. It was a piece of unfeeling hypocrisy, and it proved a lesson +to me ever after. The cake has long been masticated, consigned to +the dunghill with the ashes of that unseasonable pauper. But when +Providence, who is better to us than all our aunts, gives me a pig, +remembering my temptation and my fall, I shall endeavour to act +towards it more in the spirit of the donor's purpose. + +Yours (short of pig) to command in every thing. + + + +To BERNARD BARTON + +_A blessing in disguise_ + + +9 _Jan_. 1823. + +'Throw yourself on the world without any rational plan of support, +beyond what the chance employ of booksellers would afford you'!!! + +Throw yourself rather, my dear sir, from the steep Tarpeian rock, +slap-dash headlong upon iron spikes. If you have but five consolatory +minutes between the desk and the bed, make much of them, and live a +century in them, rather than turn slave to the booksellers. They are +Turks and Tartars when they have poor authors at their beck. Hitherto +you have been at arm's length from them. Come not within their grasp. +I have known many authors want for bread, some repining, others +envying the blessed security of a counting-house, all agreeing they +had rather have been tailors, weavers--what not? rather than the +things they were. I have known some starved, some to go mad, one dear +friend literally dying in a workhouse. You know not what a rapacious, +dishonest set these booksellers are. Ask even Southey, who (a single +case almost) has made a fortune by book-drudgery, what he has found +them. Oh, you know not, may you never know, the miseries of subsisting +by authorship! 'Tis a pretty appendage to a situation like yours or +mine; but a slavery, worse than all slavery, to be a bookseller's +dependant, to drudge your brains for pots of ale, and breasts of +mutton, _to change your_ FREE THOUGHTS _and_ VOLUNTARY NUMBERS _for +ungracious_ TASK-WORK. Those fellows hate _us_. The reason I take to +be, that contrary to other trades, in which the master gets all the +credit (a jeweller or silversmith for instance,) and the journeyman, +who really does the fine work, is in the background: in _our_ work +the world gives all the credit to us, whom _they_ consider as _their_ +journeymen, and therefore do they hate us, and cheat us, and oppress +us, and would wring the blood of us out, to put another sixpence in +their mechanic pouches!... + +Keep to your bank, and the bank will keep you. Trust not to the +public; you may hang, starve, drown yourself, for anything that worthy +_personage_ cares. I bless every star, that Providence, not seeing +good to make me independent, has seen it next good to settle me upon +the stable foundation of Leadenhall. Sit down, good B.B., in the +banking-office: what! is there not from six to eleven p.m. six days +in the week, and is there not all Sunday? Fie, what a superfluity +of man's time, if you could think so! Enough for relaxation, mirth, +converse, poetry, good thoughts, quiet thoughts. O the corroding, +torturing, tormenting thoughts, that disturb the brain of the unlucky +wight who must draw upon it for daily sustenance! Henceforth I retract +all my fond complaints of mercantile employment; look upon them as +lover's quarrels. I was but half in earnest. Welcome dead timber +of the desk, that makes me live. A little grumbling is a wholesome +medicine for the spleen, but in my inner heart do I approve and +embrace this our close, but unharassing way of life. I am quite +serious. If you can send me Fox, I will not keep it _six weeks_, and +will return it, with warm thanks to yourself and friend, without blot +or dog's-ear. You will much oblige me by this kindness. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A cold_ + + +9 _Jan_. 1824. + +DEAR B.B., + +Do you know what it is to succumb under an insurmountable +day-mare,--'a whoreson lethargy', Falstaff calls it,--an indisposition +to do anything, or to be anything,--a total deadness and distaste,--a +suspension of vitality,--an indifference to locality,--a numb, +soporifical, good-for-nothingness,--an ossification all over,--an +oyster-like insensibility to the passing events,--a mind-stupor,--a +brawny defiance to the needles of a thrusting-in conscience? Did you +ever have a very bad cold, with a total irresolution to submit to +water-gruel processes? This has been for many weeks my lot, and my +excuse; my fingers drag heavily over this paper, and to my thinking it +is three-and-twenty furlongs from here to the end of this demi-sheet. +I have not a thing to say; no thing is of more importance than +another; I am flatter than a denial or a pancake; emptier than Judge +----'s wig when the head is in it; duller than a country stage when +the actors are off it; a cipher, an O! I acknowledge life at all, only +by an occasional convulsional cough, and a permanent phlegmatic pain +in the chest. I am weary of the world; life is weary of me. My day is +gone into twilight, and I don't think it worth the expense of candles. +My wick hath a thief in it, but I can't muster courage to snuff it. +I inhale suffocation; I can't distinguish veal from mutton; nothing +interests me. 'Tis twelve o'clock, and Thurtell is just now coming out +upon the New Drop, Jack Ketch alertly tucking up his greasy sleeves +to do the last office of mortality, yet cannot I elicit a groan or +a moral reflection. If you told me the world will be at an end +to-morrow, I should just say, 'Will it?' I have not volition enough +left to dot my _i's_, much less to comb my eyebrows; my eyes are +set in my head; my brains are gone out to see a poor relation in +Moorflelds, and they did not say when they'd come back again; my skull +is a Grub Street attic to let--not so much as a joint stool left in +it; my hand writes, not I, from habit, as chickens run about a +little, when their heads are off. O for a vigorous fit of gout, colic, +toothache,--an earwig in my auditory, a fly in my visual organs; pain +is life--the sharper, the more evidence of life; but this apathy, this +death! Did you ever have an obstinate cold,--a six or seven weeks' +unintermitting chill and suspension of hope, fear, conscience, and +every thing? Yet do I try all I can to cure it; I try wine, and +spirits, and smoking, and snuff in unsparing quantities, but they all +only seem to make me worse instead of better. I sleep in a damp room, +but it does me no good; I come home late o' nights, but do not find +any visible amendment!... + +It is just fifteen minutes after twelve; Thurtell is by this time +a good way on his journey, baiting at Scorpion perhaps; Ketch is +bargaining for his cast coat and waistcoat; the Jew demurs at first at +three half-crowns, but, on consideration that he may get somewhat by +showing 'em in the town, finally closes. + + + + +WILLIAM HAZLITT + +1778-1830 + + + +To Miss Sarah Stoddart + +_A love-letter_ + + +Tuesday night [_Jan._ 1808]. + +MY DEAR LOVE, + +Above a week has passed, and I have received no letter--not one of +those letters 'in which I live, or have no life at all'. What is +become of you? Are you married, hearing that I was dead (for so it has +been reported)? Or are you gone into a nunnery? Or are you fallen in +love with some of the amorous heroes of Boccaccio? Which of them is +it? Is it with Chynon, who was transformed from a clown into a lover, +and learned to spell by the force of beauty? Or with Lorenzo, the +lover of Isabella, whom her three brethren hated (as your brother does +me), who was a merchant's clerk? Or with Federigo Alberigi, an honest +gentleman, who ran through his fortune, and won his mistress by +cooking a fair falcon for her dinner, though it was the only means he +had left of getting a dinner for himself? This last is the man; and +I am the more persuaded of it, because I think I won your good liking +myself by giving you an entertainment--of sausages, when I had no +money to buy them with. Nay now, never deny it! Did I not ask your +consent that very night after, and did you not give it? Well, I should +be confoundedly jealous of those fine gallants, if I did not know that +a living dog is better than a dead lion; though, now I think of it, +Boccaccio does not in general make much of his lovers: it is his women +who are so delicious. I almost wish I had lived in those times, and +had been a little _more amiable_. Now if a woman had written the book, +it would not have had this effect upon me: the men would have been +heroes and angels, and the women nothing at all. Isn't there some +truth in that? Talking of departed loves, I met my old flame the other +day in the street. I did dream of her _one_ night since, and only one: +every other night I have had the same dream I have had for these two +months past. Now, if you are at all reasonable, this will satisfy you. + +_Thursday morning_. The book is come. When I saw it I thought you had +sent it back in a _huff_, tired out by my sauciness, and _coldness_, +and delays, and were going to keep an account of dimities and sayes, +or to salt pork and chronicle small beer as the dutiful wife of some +fresh-looking, rural swain; so that you cannot think how surprised +and pleased I was to find them all done. I liked your note as well or +better than the extracts; it is just such a note as such a nice rogue +as you ought to write after the _provocation_ you had received. I +would not give a pin for a girl 'whose cheeks never tingle', nor for +myself if I could not make them tingle sometimes. Now, though I am +always writing to you about 'lips and noses', and such sort of stuff, +yet as I sit by my fireside (which I do generally eight or ten hours a +day), I oftener think of you in a serious, sober light. For, indeed, +I never love you so well as when I think of sitting down with you to +dinner on a boiled scrag-end of mutton, and hot potatoes. You please +my fancy more then than when I think of you in--no, you would never +forgive me if I were to finish the sentence. Now I think of it, what +do you mean to be dressed in when we are married? But it does not much +matter! I wish you would let your hair grow; though perhaps nothing +will be better than 'the same air and look with which at first my +heart was took'. But now to business. I mean soon to call upon your +brother _in form_, namely, as soon as I get quite well, which I hope +to do in about another _fortnight_; and then I hope you will come up +by the coach as fast as the horses can carry you, for I long mightily +to be in your ladyship's presence--to vindicate my character. I think +you had better sell the small house, I mean that at 4.10, and I will +borrow £100. So that we shall set off merrily in spite of all the +prudence of Edinburgh. Goodbye, little dear! + + + +TO HIS SON + +_Marriage, and the choice of a profession_ + + +[1822.] + +... If you ever marry, I would wish you to marry the woman you like. +Do not be guided by the recommendations of friends. Nothing will +atone for or overcome an original distaste. It will only increase from +intimacy; and if you are to live separate, it is better not to come +together. There is no use in dragging a chain through life, unless +it binds one to the object we love. Choose a mistress from among your +equals. You will be able to understand her character better, and she +will be more likely to understand yours. Those in an inferior station +to yourself will doubt your good intentions, and misapprehend your +plainest expressions. All that you swear is to them a riddle or +downright nonsense. You cannot by any possibility translate your +thoughts into their dialect. They will be ignorant of the meaning of +half you say, and laugh at the rest. As mistresses, they will have no +sympathy with you; and as wives, you can have none with them. + +Women care nothing about poets, or philosophers, or politicians. They +go by a man's looks and manner. Richardson calls them 'an eye-judging +sex'; and I am sure he knew more about them than I can pretend to do. +If you run away with a pedantic notion that they care a pin's point +about your head or your heart, you will repent it too late.... + +If I were to name one pursuit rather than another, I should wish you +to be a good painter, if such a thing could be hoped. I have failed in +this myself, and should wish you to be able to do what I have not--to +paint like Claude, or Rembrandt, or Guido, or Vandyke, if it were +possible. Artists, I think, who have succeeded in their chief object, +live to be old, and are agreeable old men. Their minds keep alive +to the last. Cosway's spirits never flagged till after ninety; and +Nollekens, though nearly blind, passed all his mornings in giving +directions about some group or bust in his workshop. You have seen Mr. +Northcote, that delightful specimen of the last age. With what avidity +he takes up his pencil, or lays it down again to talk of numberless +things! His eye has not lost its lustre, nor 'paled its ineffectual +fire'. His body is but a shadow: he himself is a pure spirit. There is +a kind of immortality about this sort of ideal and visionary existence +that dallies with Fate and baffles the grim monster, Death. If I +thought you could make as clever an artist, and arrive at such an +agreeable old age as Mr. Northcote, I should declare at once for your +devoting yourself to this enchanting profession; and in that reliance, +should feel less regret at some of my own disappointments, and little +anxiety on your account! + + + +To CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE + +_The Life of Napoleon_ + + +7 _Dec_. [1827]. + +DEAR SIR, + +I thought all the world agreed with me at present that Buonaparte was +better than the Bourbons, or that a tyrant was better than tyranny. +In my opinion, no one of an understanding above the rank of a lady's +waiting-maid could ever have doubted this, though I alone said it ten +years ago. It might be impolicy then and now for what I know, for the +world stick to an opinion in appearance long after they have given it +up in reality. I should like to know whether the preface is thought +impolitic by some one who agrees with me in the main point, or by some +one who differs with me and makes this excuse not to have his opinion +contradicted? In Paris (_jubes regina renovare dolorem_) the preface +was thought a masterpiece, the best and only possible defence of +Buonaparte, and quite new _there_! It would be an impertinence in me +to write a Life of Buonaparte after Sir W. without some such object as +that expressed in the preface. After all, I do not care a _damn_ about +the preface. It will get me on four pages somewhere else. Shall I +retract my opinion altogether, and forswear my own book? Rayner is +right to cry out: I think I have tipped him fair and foul copy, a lean +rabbit and a fat one. The remainder of vol. ii will be ready to go on +with, but not the beginning of the third. The appendixes had better +be at the end of the second vol. Pray get them if you can: you have my +Sieyes, have you not? One of them is there. I have been nearly in the +other world. My regret was 'to die and leave the world "rough" copy'. +Otherwise I had thought of an epitaph and a good end. Hic jacent +reliquiae mortales Gulielmi Hazlitt, auctoris non intelligibilis: +natus Maidstoniae in comi [ta] tu Cantiae, Apr. 10, 1778. Obiit +Winterslowe, Dec., 1827. I think of writing an epistle to C. Lamb, +Esq., to say that I have passed near the shadowy world, and have had +new impressions of the vanity of this, with hopes of a better. Don't +you think this would be good policy? Don't mention it to the severe +author of the '_Press_', a poem, but me thinks the idea _arridet_ +Hone. He would give sixpence to see me floating, upon a pair of +borrowed wings, half way between heaven and earth, and edifying +the good people at my departure, whom I shall only scandalize by +remaining. At present my study and contemplation is the leg of a +stewed fowl. I have behaved like a saint, and been obedient to orders. + +_Non fit pugil_, &c., I got a violent spasm by walking fifteen miles +in the mud, and getting into a coach with an old lady who would have +the window open. Delicacy, moderation, complaisance, the _suaviter in +modo_, whisper it about, my dear Clarke, these are my faults and have +been my ruin. + + + + +LEIGH HUNT + +1784-1859 + + + +To JOSEPH SEVERN + +_A belated letter_[1] + + +Vale of Health, Hampstead, 8 _March_, 1821 + +DEAR SEVERN, + +You have concluded, of course, that I have sent no letters to Rome, +because I was aware of the effect they would have on Keats's mind; and +this is the principal cause; for, besides what I have been told about +letters in Italy, I remember his telling me upon one occasion that, in +his sick moments, he never wished to receive another letter, or ever +to see another face, however friendly. But still I should have written +to you, had I not been almost at death's door myself. You will imagine +how ill I have been, when you hear that I have but just begun writing +again for the _Examiner_ and _Indicator_, after an interval of +several months, during which my flesh wasted from me with sickness +and melancholy. Judge how often I thought of Keats, and with what +feelings. Mr. Brown tells me he is comparatively calm now, or rather +quite so. If he can bear to hear of us, pray tell him; but he knows it +already, and can put it in better language than any man. I hear that +he does not like to be told that he may get better; nor is it to +be wondered at, considering his firm persuasion that he shall not +survive. He can only regard it as a puerile thing, and an insinuation +that he shall die. But if his persuasion should happen to be no longer +so strong, or if he can now put up with attempts to console him, of +what I have said a thousand times, and what I still (upon my honour) +think always, that I have seen too many instances of recovery from +apparently desperate cases of consumption not to be in hope to the +very last. If he still cannot bear this, tell him--tell that great +poet and noble-hearted man--that we shall all bear his memory in the +most precious part of our hearts, and that the world shall bow their +heads to it, as our loves do. Or if this, again, will trouble his +spirit, tell him that we shall never cease to remember and love him; +and that, Christian or infidel, the most sceptical of us has faith +enough in the high things that nature puts into our heads, to think +all who are of one accord in mind or heart are journeying to one and +the same place, and shall unite somewhere or other again, face to +face, mutually conscious, mutually delighted. Tell him he is only +before us on the road, as he is in everything else; or, whether you +tell him the latter or no, tell him the former, and add that we shall +never forget that he was so, and that we are coming after him. The +tears are again in my eyes, and I must not afford to shed them. The +next letter I write shall be more to yourself, and more refreshing to +your spirits, which we are very sensible must have been greatly taxed. +But whether your friend dies or not, it will not be among the least +lofty of your recollections by-and-by that you helped to smooth the +sick-bed of so fine a being. God bless you, dear Severn. + +[Footnote 1: Keats died in February.] + + + +To PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +_Outpourings of gratitude_ + + +Stonehouse, near Plymouth, 26 _March_, 1822. + +MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +Your letters always contain something delightful to me, whatever news +they bring. + + Surgit _amici_ aliquid, quod in ipsis _nubibus_ + _ardet_. + +But I confess your latter ones have greatly relieved me on the subject +you speak of. They only make me long, with an extreme Homeric longing, +to be at Pisa,--I mean such an one as Achilles felt when he longed to +be with his father,--sharp in his very limbs. We have secured a ship, +the _David Walter_, which will call for us here, and sets sail +from London in a fortnight. I have written by to-day's post with +intelligence of it to Mrs. Fletcher, enclosing her the letter, and +giving her the option of going on board in London, or here. I need not +say we shall attend to her comforts in every respect. The same post +also carries a letter to Mr. Gisborne, stating your wishes, and +wonders respecting _Adonais_. If it is not published before I leave +England, I will publish my criticism upon the Pisa copy,--a criticism +which I think you will like. I take the opportunity of showing the +public why Gifford's review spoke so bitterly of _Prometheus_, and +why it pretends that the most metaphysical passage of your most +metaphysical poem is a specimen of the clearness of your general +style. The wretched priest-like cunning and undertoned malignity of +that review of _Prometheus_ is indeed a homage paid to qualities which +can so provoke it. The _Quarterly_ pretends now, that it never meddles +with you personally,--of course it never did! For this, _Blackwood_ +cries out upon it, contrasting its behaviour in those delicate matters +with its own! This is better and better, and the public seem to think +so; for these things, depend upon it, are getting better understood +every day, and shall be better and better understood every day to +come. One circumstance which helps to reconcile me to having been +detained on this coast, is the opportunity it has given me to make +your works speak for themselves wherever I could; and you are in high +lustre, I assure you, with the most intelligent circles in Plymouth, +[Greek: astaer epsos]. I have, indeed, been astonished to find +how well prepared people of intelligence are to fall in with your +aspirations, and despise the mistakes and rascally instincts of your +calumniators. This place, for instance, abounds in _schoolmasters_, +who appear, to a man, to be liberal to an extreme and esoterical +degree. And such, there is reason to believe, is the case over the +greater part of the kingdom, greatly, no doubt, owing to political +causes. Think of the consequences of this with the rising generation. +I delight in _Adonais_. It is the most Delphic poetry I have seen +a long while; full of those embodyings of the most subtle and airy +imaginations,--those arrestings and explanations of the most shadowy +yearnings of our being--which are the most difficult of all things +to put into words, and the most delightful when put. I do not know +whether you are aware how fond I am of your song on the Skylark; but +you ought, if Ollier sent you a copy of the enlarged _Calendar_ +_of Nature_, which he published separately under the title of the +_Months_. I tell you this, because I have not done half or a twentieth +part of what I ought to have done to make your writings properly +appreciated. But I intended to do more every day, and now that I am +coming to you, I shall be _totus_ in you and yours! For all good, and +healthy, and industrious things, I will do such wonders, that I shall +begin to believe I make some remote approach to something like a +return for your kindness. Yet how can that be? At all events, I hope +we shall all be the better for one another's society. Marianne, poor +dear girl, is still very ailing and weak, but stronger upon the whole, +she thinks, than when she first left London, and quite prepared and +happy to set off on her spring voyage. She sends you part of her best +love. I told her I supposed I must answer Marina's letter for her, but +she is quite grand on the occasion, and vows she will do it herself, +which, I assure you, will be the first time she has written a letter +for many months. Ask Marina if she will be charitable, and write one +to me. I will undertake to answer it with one double as long. But what +am I talking about, when the captain speaks of sailing in a fortnight? +I was led astray by her delightful letter to Marianne about walks, and +duets, and violets, and ladies like violets. Am I indeed to see and +be in the midst of all these beautiful things, ladies like lilies not +excepted? And do the men in Italy really leave ladies to walk in those +very amiable dry ditches by themselves? Oh! for a few strides, like +those of Neptune, when he went from some place to some other place, +and 'did it in three!' Dear Shelley, I am glad my letter to Lord B. +pleased you, though I do not know why you should so thank me for it. +But you are ingenious in inventing claims for me upon your affection. + + + +To HORACE SMITH + +_Shelley's death_ + + +Pisa, 25 _July_, 1822. + +Dear Horace, + +I trust that the first news of the dreadful calamity which has +befallen us here will have been broken to you by report, otherwise I +shall come upon you with a most painful abruptness; but Shelley, my +divine-minded friend, your friend, the friend of the universe, he has +perished at sea. He was in a boat with his friend Captain Williams, +going from Leghorn to Lerici, when a storm arose, and it is supposed +the boat must have foundered. It was on the 8th instant, about four +or five in the evening, they guess. A fisherman says he saw the boat +a few minutes before it went down: he looked again and it was gone. He +saw the boy they had with them aloft furling one of the sails. We hope +his story is true, as their passage from life to death will then have +been short; and what adds to the hope is, that in S's pocket (for the +bodies were both thrown on shore some days afterwards,--conceive our +horrible certainty, after trying all we could to hope!) a copy of +Keats's last volume, which he had borrowed of me to read on his +passage, was found _open_ and doubled back as if it had been thrust +in, in the hurry of a surprise. God bless him! I cannot help thinking +of him as if he were alive as much as ever, so unearthly he always +appeared to me, and so seraphical a thing of the elements; and this +is what all his friends say. But what we all feel, your own heart will +tell you.... + +It has been often feared that Shelley and Captain Williams would meet +with some accident, they were so hazardous; but when they set out on +the 8th, in the morning it was fine. Our dear friend was passionately +fond of the sea, and has been heard to say he should like it to be his +death-bed.... + + + +To MRS. PROCTER + +_Accepting an invitation_ + + +5 York Buildings, 13 _March_ [1831]. + +MY DEAR MRS. PROCTER (for Madam, somehow, is + not the thing), + +I am most pleased to be reminded of my promise, which I must have made +if you say I did. I suppose I have been coming to keep it ever since; +but it is a long road from sorrow to joy, and one is apt to get +confused on the road. Do you know your letter brought the tears into +my eyes? I hardly know why, unless it was that I saw Procter had been +pouring his kind heart into yours, and you said:--'We must have him +here instead of the coffee-house, and plant him by the fire, and warm +him like a stray bird till he sings.' But indeed a kind word affects +me where many a hard thump does not. Nevertheless, you must not tell +this, except to the very masculine or feminine; though if you do not +take it as a compliment to yourself,--I mean the confession of +my weakness,--why, you are not Procter's wife, nor Mrs. Montagu's +daughter, nor she who wrote the letter this morning to a poor battered +author. + +PS. I eat any plain joint, of the plainer order, beef or mutton:--and +you know I care for nothing at dinner, so that it does not hurt me. +Friends' company is the thing. + + + +To A FRIEND + +_Offence and punishment_ + + +Wimbledon, 11 and 12 _August_, 1846. + +... I find I made a great confusion of my _portion_ of the legal +expenses incurred by the _Examiner_, with the _whole_ of them. That +portion only amounted to £750, the whole being £1500. Of this £750 out +of my pocket (which was quite enough), £250 went to pay for +expenses (counsel, &c.) attendant on the _failure_ of two Government +prosecutions,--one for saying (_totidem verbis_) that 'of all monarchs +since the Revolution, the successor of George III would have the +finest opportunity of becoming nobly popular'; (think, nowadays, +of being prosecuted for _that_!) and the other for copying from the +_Stamford News_ the paragraph against military flogging, alluded to +the other day in the _Daily News_. (Think, now, this moment, of being +prosecuted for _That_!) The £500 fine and two years' imprisonment was +for ludicrously contrasting the _Morning Post's_ picture of the Regent +as an 'Adonis', &c. with the old and real fat state of the case, and +for adding that his Royal Highness had lived for 'upwards of half +a century without doing anything to deserve the admiration of his +contemporaries or the gratitude of posterity'. Words to that effect, +and I believe better,--but I do not quite remember them. They might be +easily ascertained by reference to Peel's Coffee-house, and the words +of the _Post_, too. + +Besides the fine, my imprisonment cost me several hundred pounds (I +can't exactly say how many) in monstrous _douceurs_ to the gaoler +for _liberty to walk in the garden_, for help towards getting me +permission to fit up rooms in the sick hospital, and for fitting +up said rooms, or rather converting them from sorts of +washhouses, hitherto uninhabited and unfloored, into comfortable +apartments,--which I did too expensively,--at least as far as papering +the sitting-room with a trellis of roses went, and having my ceiling +painted to imitate an out-of-door sky. No notice, however, could +be taken, I suppose, of any of _this_ portion of the expenses, +governments having nothing to do with the secret corruptions of +gaolers or the pastorals of incarcerated poets: otherwise the +prosecutions cost me altogether a good bit beyond a thousand pounds. + +But perhaps it might be mentioned that I went to prison from all but +a sick bed, having been just ordered by the physician _to go to the +seaside_, and _ride_ for the benefit of my health (pleasing dramatic +contrast to the _verdict_!). I also declined, as I told you, to try +avoiding the imprisonment by the help of Perry's offer of the famous +secret 'Book'; and I further declined (as I think I also told you) +to avail myself of an offer on the part of a royal agent (made, of +course, in the guarded, though obvious manner in which such offers are +conveyed), to drop the prosecution, provided we would agree to +drop all future hostile mention of the Regent. But of this, too, +governments could not be expected to take notice--perhaps would regard +it as an addition to the offence. This, however, I must add, that the +whole attack on the Regent was owing, not merely to the nonsense of +the _Post_, but to his violation of those promises of conceding the +Catholic claims, to which his princely word stood pledged. The subject +of the article was the '_Dinner on St. Patrick's day_'. All the Whig +world was indignant at that violation; so were the Irish, of course, +_vehemently_; and it was on the spur of this publicly indignant +movement that I wrote what I did,--as angrily and as much in earnest +in the serious part of what I said as I was derisive in the rest. +I did not care for any factious object, nor was I what is called +anti-monarchical. I didn't know Cobbett, or Henry Hunt, or any +demagogue, _even by sight_, except Sir Francis Burdett, and him +by sight alone. Nor did I ever see, or speak a word with them, +afterwards. I knew nothing, in fact, of politics themselves, except in +some of those large and, as it appeared to me, obvious phases, which, +at all events, _have since become obvious to most people_, and in +fighting for which (if a man can be said to fight for a 'phase'!) I +suffered all that Tories could inflict upon me,--by expenses in law +and calumnies in literature;--reform, Catholic claims, free +trade, abolition of flogging, right of free speech, as opposed by +attorneys-general. I was, in fact, all the while nothing but a poetic +student, appearing in politics once a week, but given up entirely to +letters almost all the rest of it, and loving nothing so much as a +book and a walk in the fields. I was precisely the sort of person, in +these respects, which I am at this moment. As to George the Fourth, I +aided, years afterwards, in publicly wishing him well--'years having +brought the philosophic mind'. I believe I even expressed regret at +not having given him the excuses due to all human beings (the passage, +I take it, is in the book which Colburn called _Lord Byron and his +Contemporaries_); _and when I consider that Moore has been pensioned, +not only in spite of all his libels on him, but perhaps by very reason +of their Whig partisanship, I should think it hard to be refused a +pension purely because I openly suffered for what I had earnestly +said_. I knew George the Fourth's physician, Sir William Knighton, +who had been mine before I was imprisoned (it was _not_ he who was the +royal agent alluded to); and, if my memory does not deceive me, Sir +William told me that George had been gratified by the book above +mentioned. Perhaps he had found out, by Sir William's help, that I was +not an ill-natured man, or one who could not outlive what was +mistaken in himself or resentful in others. As to my opinions about +Governments, the bad conduct of the Allies, and of Napoleon, and the +old Bourbons, certainly made them waver as to what might be ultimately +best, monarchy or republicanism; but they ended in favour of their +old predilections; and no man, for a long while, has been less a +republican than myself, monarchies and courts appearing to me salutary +for the good and graces of mankind, and Americanisms anything but +either. But nobody, I conceive, that knew my writings, or heard of me +truly from others, ever took me for a republican. William the Fourth +saw or heard nothing of me to hinder his letting Lord Melbourne give +me £200 out of the Royal Fund. Queen Victoria gave me another, +through the same kind friend. She also went twice to see my play; and +everybody knows how I praise and love her. _I do not think, therefore, +in reference to the pension, that the public would care twopence about +George the Fourth, one way or the other; or that if any remembered the +case at all, they would connect the pension in the least with anything +about him, but attribute it solely to the Queen's and Minister's +goodness, and the wants of a sincere and not undeserving man of +letters, distinguished for his loyal attachment_. I certainly think +the £500 fine ought not to have been taken out of my pocket, or the +other two £125 either; and I think also, that a liberal Whig minister +might reasonably and _privately_ think some compensation on those +accounts due to me. _I have been fighting his own fight from first to +last, and helping to prepare matters for his triumph_. But still the +above, in my opinion, is what the public would think of the matter, +_and my friends of the press could lay it entirely to the literary +account_. + + + + +GEORGE GORDON NOEL, + LORD BYRON + +1788-1824 + + + +To MR. HODGSON + +_Travel in Portugal_ + + +Lisbon, 16 _July_, 1809. + +Thus far have we pursued our route, and seen all sorts of marvellous +sights, palaces, convents, &c.,--which, being to be heard in my friend +Hobhouse's forthcoming Book of Travels, I shall not anticipate by +smuggling any account whatsoever to you in a private and clandestine +manner. I must just observe, that the village of Cintra in Estremadura +is the most beautiful, perhaps, in the world. + +I am very happy here, because I loves oranges, and talks bad Latin +to the monks, who understand it, as it is like their own,--and I goes +into society (with my pocket pistols), and I swims in the Tagus +all across at once, and I rides on an ass or a mule, and swears +Portuguese, and have got bites from the mosquitoes. But what of that? +Comfort must not be expected by folks that go a-pleasuring. + +When the Portuguese are pertinacious, I say '_Carracho_!'--the +great oath of the grandees, that very well supplies the place of +'Damme!'--and when dissatisfied with my neighbour, I pronounce +him '_Ambra di merdo_'. With these two phrases, and a third,'_Avra +bouro_', which signifieth 'Get an ass', I am universally understood to +be a person of degree and a master of languages. How merrily we +lives that travellers be!--if we had food and raiment. But, in sober +sadness, anything is better than England, and I am infinitely amused +with my pilgrimage, as far as it has gone. + +To-morrow we start to ride post near 400 miles as far as Gibraltar, +where we embark for Melita and Byzantium. A letter to Malta will find +me, or to be forwarded, if I am absent. Pray embrace the Drury and +Dwyer, and all the Ephesians you encounter. I am writing with Butler's +donative pencil, which makes my bad hand worse. Excuse illegibility. + +Hodgson! send me the news, and the deaths and defeats and capital +crimes and the misfortunes of one's friends; and let us hear of +literary matters, and the controversies and the criticisms. All this +will be pleasant--'_Suave mari magno_, &c.' Talking of that, I have +been sea-sick, and sick of the sea. Adieu. + + + +TO THOMAS MOORE + +_Announces his engagement_ + + +Newstead Abbey, 20 _Sept._ 1814. + + Here's to her who long + Hath waked the poet's sigh! + The girl who gave to song + What gold could never buy. + +MY DEAR MOORE, + +I am going to be married--that is, I am accepted, and one usually +hopes the rest will follow. My mother of the Gracchi (that _are_ to +be), _you_ think too strait-laced for me, although the paragon of only +children, and invested with 'golden opinions of all sorts of men', and +full of 'most blest conditions' as Desdemona herself. Miss Milbanke +is the lady, and I have her father's invitation to proceed there in my +elect capacity,--which, however, I cannot do until I have settled some +business in London, and got a blue coat. + +She is said to be an heiress, but of that I really know nothing +certainly, and shall not inquire. But I do know, that she has talents +and excellent qualities; and you will not deny her judgement, after +having refused six suitors and taken me. + +Now, if you have anything to say against this, pray do; my mind's +made up, positively fixed, determined, and therefore I will listen to +reason, because now it can do no harm. Things may occur to break it +off, but I will hope not. In the meantime I tell you (a _secret_, by +the by,--at least till I know she wishes it to be public) that I have +proposed and am accepted. You need not be in a hurry to wish me joy, +for one mayn't be married for months. I am going to town to-morrow, +but expect to be here, on my way there, within a fortnight. + +If this had not happened, I should have gone to Italy. In my way down, +perhaps you will meet me at Nottingham, and come over with me here. +I need not say that nothing will give me greater pleasure. I must, of +course, reform thoroughly; and, seriously, if I can contribute to +her happiness, I shall secure my own. She is so good a person +that--that--in short, I wish I was a better. + + + +TO JOHN MURRAY + +_No bid for sweet voices_ + + +Venice, 6 _April_, 1819. + +The second canto of Don Juan was sent, on Saturday last, by post, in +four packets, two of four, and two of three sheets each, containing +in all two hundred and seventeen stanzas, octave measure. But I will +permit no curtailments.... You shan't make _canticles_ of my cantos. +The poem will please, if it is lively; if it is stupid, it will fail; +but I will have none of your damned cutting and slashing. If you +please, you may publish _anonymously_; it will perhaps be better; but +I will battle my way against them all, like a porcupine. + +So you and Mr. Foscolo, etc., want me to undertake what you call a +'great work'? an Epic Poem, I suppose or some such pyramid. I'll try +no such thing; I hate tasks. And then 'seven or eight years'! God send +us all well this day three months, let alone years. If one's years +can't be better employed than in sweating poesy, a man had better be a +ditcher. And works, too!--is _Childe Harold_ nothing? You have so many +'_divine_' poems, is it nothing to have written a _human_ one? without +any of your worn-out machinery. Why, man, I could have spun the +thoughts of the four cantos of that poem into twenty, had I wanted to +book-make, and its passion into as many modern tragedies. Since you +want _length_, you shall have enough of _Juan_, for I'll make fifty +cantos.... + +Besides, I mean to write my best work in _Italian_, and it will take +me nine years more thoroughly to master the language; and then if my +fancy exist, and I exist too, I will try what I _can_ do _really_. As +to the estimation of the English which you talk of, let them +calculate what it is worth, before they insult me with their insolent +condescension. + +I have not written for their pleasure. If they are pleased, it is that +they chose to be so; I have never flattered their opinions, nor their +pride; nor will I. Neither will I make 'Ladies' books' '_al dilettar +le femine e la plebe_'. I have written from the fullness of my mind, +from passion, from impulse, from many motives, but not for their +'sweet voices'. + +I know the precise worth of popular applause, for few scribblers have +had more of it; and if I chose to swerve into their paths, I could +retain it, or resume it. But I neither love ye, nor fear ye; and +though I buy with ye and sell with ye, and talk with ye, I will +neither eat with ye, drink with ye, nor pray with ye. They made me, +without my search, a species of popular idol; they, without reason or +judgement, beyond the caprice of their good pleasure, threw down the +image from its pedestal; it was not broken with the fall, and they +would, it seems, again replace it,--but they shall not. + +You ask about my health: about the beginning of the year I was in a +state of great exhaustion ... and I was obliged to reform my 'way of +life', which was conducting me from the 'yellow leaf' to the ground, +with all deliberate speed. I am better in health and morals, and very +much yours, &c.-- + +PS. I have read Hodgson's '_Friends_'. He is right in defending Pope +against the bastard pelicans of the poetical winter day, who add +insult to their parricide, by sucking the blood of the parent of +English _real_ poetry,--poetry without fault,--and then spurning the +bosom which fed them. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The cemetery at Bologna_ + + +Bologna, 7 _June_, 1819. + +... I have been picture-gazing this morning at the famous Domenichino +and Guido, both of which are superlative. I afterwards went to the +beautiful cemetery of Bologna, beyond the walls, and found, besides +the superb burial-ground, an original of a Custode, who reminded me +of the grave-digger in _Hamlet_. He has a collection of capuchins' +skulls, labelled on the forehead, and taking down one of them, said, +'This was Brother Desiderio Berro, who died at forty--one of my best +friends. I begged his head of his brethren after his decease, and they +gave it me. I put it in lime, and then boiled it. Here it is, teeth +and all, in excellent preservation. He was the merriest, cleverest +fellow I ever knew. Wherever he went, he brought joy; and whenever any +one was melancholy, the sight of him was enough to make him cheerful +again. He walked so actively, you might have taken him for a +dancer--he joked--he laughed--oh! he was such a Frate as I never saw +before, nor ever shall again!' + +He told me that he had himself planted all the cypresses in the +cemetery; that he had the greatest attachment to them and to his dead +people; that since 1801 they had buried fifty-three thousand persons. +In showing some older monuments, there was that of a Roman girl of +twenty, with a bust by Bernini. She was a princess Bartorini, dead two +centuries ago: he said that, on opening her grave, they had found +her hair complete, and 'as yellow as gold'. Some of the epitaphs at +Ferrara pleased me more than the more splendid monuments at Bologna; +for instance:-- + + '_Martini Luigi + Implora pace.' + 'Lucrezia Picini + Implora eterna quiete_.' + +Can anything be more full of pathos? Those few words say all that can +be said or sought: the dead had had enough of life; all they wanted +was rest, and this they _implore_! There is all the helplessness, +and humble hope, and deathlike prayer, that can arise from the +grave--'_implora pace_'. I hope, whoever may survive me, and shall +see me put in the foreigners' burying-ground at the Lido, within the +fortress by the Adriatic, will see those two words, and no more, put +over me. I trust they won't think of 'pickling, and bringing me home +to Clod or Blunderbuss Hall'. I am sure my bones would not rest in +an English grave, or my clay mix with the earth of that country. I +believe the thought would drive me mad on my deathbed, could I suppose +that any of my friends would be base enough to convey my carcass back +to your soil. I would not even feed your worms, if I could help it. + +So, as Shakespeare says of Mowbray, the banished Duke of Norfolk, who +died at Venice (see _Richard II_), that he, after fighting + + Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens, + And toiled with works of war, retired himself + To Italy, and there, at _Venice_, gave + His body to that _pleasant_ country's earth, + And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ, + Under whose colours he had fought so long. + +Before I left Venice, I had returned to you your late, and Mr. +Hobhouse's sheets of _Juan_. Don't wait for further answers from +me, but address yours to Venice, as usual. I know nothing of my own +movements; I may return there in a few days, or not for some time. +All this depends on circumstances. I left Mr. Hoppner very well.... +My daughter Allegra was well too, and is growing pretty; her hair is +growing darker, and her eyes are blue. Her temper and her ways, Mr. +Hoppner says, are like mine, as well as her features: she will make, +in that case, a manageable young lady. + +I have never heard anything of Ada, the little Electra of my +Mycenae.... But there will come a day of reckoning, even if I should +not live to see it.... What a long letter I have scribbled! + +PS. Here, as in Greece, they strew flowers on the tombs. I saw a +quantity of rose-leaves, and entire roses, scattered over the graves +at Ferrara. It has the most pleasing effect you can imagine. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_In rebellious mood_ + + +Bologna, 24 _Aug_. 1819. + +I wrote to you by last post, enclosing a buffooning letter for +publication, addressed to the buffoon Roberts, who has thought proper +to tie a canister to his own tail. It was written off-hand, and in the +midst of circumstances not very favourable to facetiousness, so that +there may, perhaps, be more bitterness than enough for that sort of +small acid punch:--you will tell me. Keep the _anonymous_, in any +case: it helps what fun there may be. But if the matter grow serious +about _Don Juan_, and you feel _yourself_ in a scrape, or _me_ either, +_own that I am the author. I_ will never _shrink_, and if _you_ do, +I can always answer you in the question of Guatimozin to his +minister--each being on his own coals. + +I wish that I had been in better spirits; but I am out of sorts, out +of nerves, and now and then (I begin to fear) out of my senses. All +this Italy has done for me, and not England: I defy all you, and your +climate to boot, to make me mad. But if ever I do really become a +Bedlamite, and wear a strait waistcoat, let me be brought back among +you: your people will then be proper company. + +I assure you what I here say and feel has nothing to do with England, +either in a literary or personal point of view. All my present +pleasures or plagues are as Italian as the opera. And, after all, they +are but trifles; for all this arises from my 'Dama's' being in the +country for three days (at Capofiume). But as I could never live but +for one human being at a time (and, I assure you, _that one_ has never +been _myself_, as you may know by the consequences, for the _selfish_ +are _successful_ in life), I feel alone and unhappy. + +I have sent for my daughter from Venice, and I ride daily, and walk in +a garden, under a purple canopy of grapes, and sit by a fountain, and +talk with the gardener of his tools, which seem greater than Adam's, +and with his wife, and with his son's wife, who is the youngest of the +party, and, I think, talks best of the three. Then I revisit the Campo +Santo, and my old friend, the sexton, has two--but _one_ the prettiest +daughter imaginable; and I amuse myself with contrasting her beautiful +and innocent face of fifteen with the skulls with which he has peopled +several cells, and particularly with that of one skull, dated 1766, +which was once covered (the tradition goes) by the most lovely +features of Bologna--noble and rich. When I look at these, and at +this girl--when I think of what _they were_, and what she must be--why +then, my dear Murray, I won't shock you by saying what I think. It is +little matter what becomes of us 'bearded men', but I don't like the +notion of a beautiful woman's lasting less than a beautiful tree--than +her own picture--her own shadow, which won't change so to the sun +as her face to the mirror. I must leave off, for my head aches +consumedly. I have never been quite well since the night of the +representation of Alfieri's _Mirra_, a fortnight ago. + + + +To PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +_A trio of poets_ + + +Ravenna, 26 _April_, 1821. + +The child continues doing well, and the accounts are regular and +favourable. It is gratifying to me that you and Mrs. Shelley do not +disapprove of the step which I have taken, which is merely temporary. + +I am very sorry to hear what you say of Keats--is it _actually_ true? +I did not think criticism had been so killing. Though I differ from +you essentially in your estimate of his performances, I so much abhor +all unnecessary pain, that I would rather he had been seated on the +highest peak of Parnassus than have perished in such a manner. Poor +fellow! though with such inordinate self-love he would probably +have not been very happy. I read the review of _Endymion_ in the +_Quarterly_. It was severe,--but surely not so severe as many reviews +in that and other journals upon others. + +I recollect the effect on me of the _Edinburgh_ on my first poem; +it was rage, and resistance, and redress--but not despondency nor +despair. I grant that those are not amiable feelings; but, in this +world of bustle and broil, and especially in the career of writing, +a man should calculate upon his powers of _resistance_ before he goes +into the arena. + + Expect not life from pain nor danger free, + Nor deem the doom of man reserved for thee. + +You know my opinion of _that second-hand_ school of poetry. You +also know my high opinion of your own poetry,--because it is of +_no_ school. I read _Cenci_--but, besides that I think the _subject_ +essentially _un_ dramatic, I am not an admirer of our old dramatists, +_as models_. I deny that the English have hitherto had a drama at all. +Your _Cenci_, however, was a work of power, and poetry. As to _my_ +drama, pray revenge yourself upon it, by being as free as I have been +with yours. + +I have not yet got your _Prometheus_, which I long to see. I have +heard nothing of mine, and do not know that it is yet published. I +have published a pamphlet on the Pope controversy, which you will not +like. Had I known that Keats was dead--or that he was alive and so +sensitive--I should have omitted some remarks upon his poetry, +to which I was provoked by his _attack_ upon _Pope_, and my +disapprobation of _his own_ style of writing. + +You want me to undertake a great poem--I have not the inclination nor +the power. As I grow older, the indifference--_not_ to life, for we +love it by instinct--but to the stimuli of life, increases. Besides, +this late failure of the Italians has latterly disappointed me for +many reasons,--some public, some personal. My respects to Mrs. S. + +PS. Could not you and I contrive to meet this summer? Could not you +take a run here _alone_? + + + +To LADY BYRON + +_A plain statement of facts_ + + +Pisa, 17 _Nov_. 1821, + +I have to acknowledge the receipt of 'Ada's hair', which is very soft +and pretty, and nearly as dark already as mine was at twelve years +old, if I may judge from what I recollect of some in Augusta's +possession, taken at that age. But it don't curl,--perhaps from its +being let grow. + +I also thank you for the inscription of the date and name, and I will +tell you why;--I believe that they are the only two or three words of +your handwriting in my possession. For your letters I returned; and +except the two words, or rather the one word, 'Household', written +twice in an old account book, I have no other. I burnt your last +note, for two reasons:--firstly, it was written in a style not +very agreeable; and, secondly, I wished to take your word without +documents, which are the worldly resources of suspicious people. + +I suppose that this note will reach you somewhere about Ada's +birthday--the 10th of December, I believe. She will then be six, +so that in about twelve more I shall have some chance of meeting +her;--perhaps sooner, if I am obliged to go to England by business +or otherwise. Recollect, however, one thing, either in distance or +nearness;--every day which keeps us asunder should, after so long a +period, rather soften our mutual feelings, which must always have one +rallying-point as long as our child exists, which I presume we both +hope will be long after either of her parents. + +The time which has elapsed since the separation has been considerably +more than the whole brief period of our union, and the not much longer +one of our prior acquaintance. We both made a bitter mistake; but now +it is over, and irrevocably so. For, at thirty-three on my part, and a +few years less on yours, though it is no very extended period of life, +still it is one when the habits and thought are generally so formed as +to admit of no modification; and as we could not agree when younger, +we should with difficulty do so now. + +I say all this, because I own to you, that, notwithstanding +everything, I considered our reunion as not impossible for more than +a year after the separation;--but then I gave up the hope entirely and +for ever. But this very impossibility of reunion seems to me at least +a reason why, on all the few points of discussion which can arise +between us, we should preserve the courtesies of life, and as much of +its kindness as people who are never to meet may preserve perhaps more +easily than nearer connexions. For my own part, I am violent, but not +malignant; for only fresh provocations can awaken my resentments. To +you, who are colder and more concentrated, I would just hint, that +you may sometimes mistake the depth of a cold anger for dignity, and a +worse feeling for duty. I assure you that I bear you _now_ (whatever +I may have done) no resentment whatever. Remember, that _if you have +injured me_ in aught, this forgiveness is something; and that, if I +have _injured you_, it is something more still, if it be true, as the +moralists say, that the most offending are the least forgiving. + +Whether the offence has been solely on my side, or reciprocal, or on +yours chiefly, I have ceased to reflect upon any but two things,--viz. +that you are the mother of my child, and that we shall never meet +again. I think if you also consider the two corresponding points with +reference to myself, it will be better for all three. + + + +To MR. BARFF + +_Sympathy with the Greeks_ + + +10 _March_, 1824. + +Enclosed is an answer to Mr. Parruca's letter, and I hope that you +will assure him from me, that I have done and am doing all I can to +reunite the Greeks with the Greeks. + +I am extremely obliged by your offer of your country-house (as for all +other kindness) in case that my health should require my removal; but +I cannot quit Greece while there is a chance of my being of any (even +supposed) utility:--there is a stake worth millions such as I am, and +while I can stand at all, I must stand by the cause. When I say this, +I am at the same time aware of the difficulties and dissensions and +defects of the Greeks themselves; but allowance must be made for them +by all reasonable people. + +My chief, indeed _nine-tenths_ of my expenses here are solely in +advances to or on behalf of the Greeks, and objects connected with +their independence. + +[_Enclosure, translated_] + + + +To S.R. PARRUCA + + +10 _March_, 1824. + +_Sir_,--I have the honour of answering your letter. My first wish has +always been to bring the Greeks to agree among themselves. I came here +by the invitation of the Greek Government, and I do not think that I +ought to abandon Roumelia for the Peloponnesus until that Government +shall desire it; and the more so, as this part is exposed in a greater +degree to the enemy. Nevertheless, if my presence can really be of any +assistance in uniting two or more parties, I am ready to go anywhere, +either as a mediator, or, if necessary, as a hostage. In these affairs +I have neither private views, nor private dislike of any individual, +but the sincere wish of deserving the name of the friend of your +country, and of her patriots. + + + + +PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 1792-1822 + + + +To T.J. HOGG + +_His first marriage_ + + +[_No date. Postmark_, Rhayader. Summer of 1811.] + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +You will perhaps see me before you can answer this; perhaps not; +Heaven knows! I shall certainly come to York, but _Harriet Westbrook_ +will decide whether now or in three weeks. Her father has persecuted +her in a most horrible way, by endeavouring to compel her to go to +school. She asked my advice: resistance, was the answer, at the same +time that I essayed to mollify Mr. W. in vain! And in consequence of +my advice _she_ has thrown herself upon _my_ protection. + +I set off for London on Monday. How flattering a distinction!--I am +thinking of ten million things at once. + +What have I said? I declare, quite _ludicrous_. I advised her to +resist. She wrote to say that resistance was useless, but that she +would fly with me, and threw herself upon my protection. We shall have +£200 a year; when we find it run short, we must live, I suppose, upon +love! Gratitude and admiration, all demand that I should love her +_for ever._ We shall see you at York. I will hear your arguments for +matrimonialism, by which I am now almost convinced. I can get lodgings +at York, I suppose. Direct to me at Graham's, 18, Sackville Street, +Piccadilly. + +Your inclosure of £10 has arrived; I am now indebted to you £30. +In spite of philosophy, I am rather ashamed of this unceremonious +exsiccation of your financial river. But indeed, my dear friend, the +gratitude which I owe you for your society and attachment ought so far +to overbalance this consideration as to leave me nothing but that. I +must, however, pay you when I can. + +I suspect that the _strain_ is gone for ever. This letter will +convince you that I am not under the influence of a _strain_. + +I am thinking at once of ten million things. I shall come to live near +you, as Mr. Peyton. + +Ever your most faithful friend. + +I shall be at 18, Sackville Street; at least direct there. Do not send +more cash; I shall raise supplies in London. + + + +To WILLIAM GODWIN + +_An introduction_ + + +Keswick, 3 _Jan_. 1812. + +You will be surprised at hearing from a stranger. No introduction has, +nor in all probability ever will authorize that which common thinkers +would call a liberty; it is, however, a liberty which, although not +sanctioned by custom, is so far from being reprobated by reason, that +the dearest interests of mankind imperiously demand that a certain +etiquette of fashion should no longer keep 'man at a distance from +man', or impose its flimsy fancies between the free communication of +intellect. + +The name of Godwin has been used to excite in me feelings of reverence +and admiration. I have been accustomed to consider him a luminary +too dazzling for the darkness which surrounds him. From the earliest +period of my knowledge of his principles, I have ardently desired +to share, on the footing of intimacy, that intellect which I have +delighted to contemplate in its emanations. + +Considering, then, these feelings, you will not be surprised at the +inconceivable emotions with which I learned your existence and your +dwelling. I had enrolled your name in the list of the honourable dead. +I had felt regret that the glory of your being had passed from this +earth of ours. It is not so; you still live, and, I firmly believe, +are still planning the welfare of human kind. + +I have but just entered on the scene of human operations; yet my +feelings and my reasonings correspond with what yours were. My course +has been short, but eventful. I have seen much of human prejudice, +suffered much from human persecution, yet I see no reason hence +inferable which should alter my wishes for their renovation. The +ill-treatment I have met with has more than ever impressed the truth +of my principles on my judgement. I am young, I am ardent in the cause +of philanthropy and truth; do not suppose that this is vanity; I am +not conscious that it influences this portraiture. I imagine myself +dispassionately describing the state of my mind. I am young; you +have gone before me--I doubt not, are a veteran to me in the years of +persecution. Is it strange that, defying prejudice as I have done; I +should outstep the limits of custom's prescription, and endeavour to +make my desire useful by a friendship with William Godwin? + +I pray you to answer this letter. Imperfect as may be my capacity, +my desire is ardent and unintermitted. Half an hour would be at least +humanely employed in the experiment. I may mistake your residence; +certain feelings, of which I may be an inadequate arbiter, may induce +you to desire concealment; I may not, in fine, have an answer to this +letter. If I do not, when I come to London, I shall seek for you. I am +convinced I could represent myself to you in such terms as not to be +thought wholly unworthy of your friendship; at least, if desire for +universal happiness has any claim upon your preference, that desire I +can exhibit. Adieu! I shall earnestly await your answer. + + + +To THOMAS HOOKHAM + +_A subscription for Hunt_ + + +_February_ 1813. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +I am boiling with indignation at the horrible injustice and tyranny +of the sentence pronounced on Hunt and his brother; and it is on this +subject that I write to you. Surely the seal of abjectness and slavery +is indelibly stamped upon the character of England. + +Although I do not retract in the slightest degree my wish for a +subscription for the widows and children of those poor men hung at +York, yet this £1000 which the Hunts are sentenced to pay is an affair +of more consequence. Hunt is a brave, a good, and an enlightened man. +Surely the public, for whom Hunt has done so much, will repay in part +the great debt of obligation which they owe the champion of their +liberties and virtues; or are they dead, cold, stone-hearted, and +insensible--brutalized by centuries of unremitting bondage? +However that may be, they surely may be excited into some slight +acknowledgement of his merits. Whilst hundreds of thousands are sent +to the tyrants of Russia, he pines in a dungeon, far from all that can +make life desired. + +Well, I am rather poor at present; but I have £20 which is not +immediately wanted. Pray, begin a subscription for the Hunts; put down +my name for that sum, and, when I hear that you have complied with my +request, I will send it you. Now, if there are any difficulties in +the way of this scheme of ours, for the love of liberty and virtue, +overcome them. Oh! that I might wallow for one night in the Bank of +England! + +_Queen Mab_ is finished and transcribed. I am now preparing the notes, +which shall be long and philosophical. You will receive it with the +other poems. I think that the whole should form one volume; but of +that we can speak hereafter. + +As to the French _Encyclopédie_, it is a book which I am +desirous--very desirous--of possessing, and if you could get me a few +months' credit (being at present rather low in cash), I should very +much desire to have it. + +My dear sir, excuse the earnestness of the first part of my letter. I +feel warmly on this subject, and I flatter myself that so long as your +own independence and liberty remain uncompromised, you are inclined to +second my desires. + +PS. If no other way can be devised for this subscription, will you +take the trouble on yourself of writing an appropriate advertisement +for the papers, inserting, by way of stimulant, my subscription? + +On second thoughts, I enclose the £20. + + + +To MR. OLLIER + +_An article by Southey_ + + +Florence, 15 _Oct_. 1819. + +DEAR SIR, + +The droll remarks of the _Quarterly_, and Hunt's kind defence, arrived +as safe as such poison, and safer than such an antidote, usually do. + +I am on the point of sending to you 250 copies of a work which I have +printed in Italy; which you will have to pay four or five pounds duty +upon, on my account. Hunt will tell you the _kind of thing_ it is, +and in the course of the winter I shall send directions for its +publication, _until the arrival of which directions, I request that +you would have the kindness not_ to open the box, _or, if by necessity +it is opened, to abstain from observing yourself or permitting others +to observe, what it contains_. I trust this confidently to you, it +being of consequence. Meanwhile, assure yourself that this work has no +reference, direct or indirect, to politics, or religion, or personal +satire, and that this precaution is merely literary. + +The _Prometheus_, a poem in my best style, whatever that may amount +to, will arrive with it, but in MS., which you can print and publish +in the season. It is the most perfect of my productions. + +Southey wrote the article in question, I am well aware. Observe the +impudence of the man in speaking of himself. The only remark worth +notice in this piece is the assertion that I imitate Wordsworth. +It may as well be said that Lord Byron imitates Wordsworth, or that +Wordsworth imitates Lord Byron, both being great poets, and deriving +from the new springs of thought and feeling, which the great events +of our age have exposed to view, a similar tone of sentiment, imagery, +and expression. A certain similarity all the best writers of any +particular age inevitably are marked with, from the spirit of that age +acting on all. This I had explained in my _Preface_, which the +writer was too disingenuous to advert to. As to the other trash, and +particularly that lame attack on my personal character, which was +meant so ill, and which I am not the man to feel, 'tis all nothing. I +am glad, with respect to that part of it which alludes to Hunt, that +it should so have happened that I dedicate, as you will see, a work +which has all the capacities for being popular to that excellent +person. I was amused, too, with the finale; it is like the end of the +first act of an opera, when that tremendous concordant discord sets +up from the orchestra, and everybody talks and sings at once. It +describes the result of my battle with their Omnipotent God; his +pulling me under the sea by the hair of my head, like Pharaoh; my +calling out like the devil who was _game_ to the last; swearing and +cursing in all comic and horrid oaths, like a French postilion on +Mount Cenis; entreating everybody to drown themselves; pretending not +to be drowned myself when I _am_ drowned; and lastly, _being_ drowned. + +You would do me a particular kindness if you would call on Hunt, and +ask him when my parcel went, the name of the ship, and the name of the +captain, and whether he has any bill of lading, which, if he has, you +would oblige me by sending, together with the rest of the information, +by return of post, addressed to the Post Office, Florence. + + + +To MRS. HUNT + +_Keats and some others_ + + +[Pisa] 11 _Nov_. 1820. + +MY BEST MARIANNE, + +I am delighted to hear that you complain of me for not writing to you, +although I have much more reason to complain of you for not writing to +me. At least it promises me a letter from you, and you know with what +pleasure we receive, and with what anxiety we expect intelligence from +you--almost the only friends who now remain to us. + +I am afraid that the strict system of expense to which you are limited +annoys you all very much, and that Hunt's health suffers both from +that and from the incredible exertions which I see by the _Indicators_ +and the _Examiners_ that he is making. Would to Heaven that I had the +power of doing you some good! but when you are sure that the wish is +sincere, the bare expression of it may help to cheer you. + +The Gisbornes are arrived, and have brought news of you, and some +books, the principal part of which, however, are yet to arrive by +sea. Keats's new volume has arrived to us, and the fragment called +_Hyperion_ promises for him that he is destined to become one of the +first writers of the age. His other things are imperfect enough, and, +what is worse, written in the bad sort of style which is becoming +fashionable among those who fancy that they are imitating Hunt and +Wordsworth. But of all these things nothing is worse than ----, in +spite of Hunt's extracting the only good stanzas, with his usual good +nature. Indeed, _I_ ought not to complain of Hunt's good nature, for +no one owes so much to it. Is not the vulgarity of these wretched +imitations of Lord Byron carried to a pitch of the sublime? His +indecencies, too, both against sexual nature, and against human +nature in general, sit very awkwardly upon him. He only affects the +libertine: he is, really, a very amiable, friendly, and agreeable +man, I hear. But is not this monstrous? In Lord Byron all this has +an analogy with the general system of his character, and the wit and +poetry which surround hide with their light the darkness of the thing +itself. They contradict it even; they prove that the strength and +beauty of human nature can survive and conquer all that appears most +inconsistent with it. But for a writer to be at once filthy and dull +is a crime against gods, men, and columns. For Heaven's sake do not +show this to any one but Hunt, for it would irritate the wasp's nest +of the irritable race of poets. + +Where is Keats now? I am anxiously expecting him in Italy, when I +shall take care to bestow every possible attention on him. I consider +his a most valuable life, and I am deeply interested in his safety. I +intend to be the physician both of his body and his soul, to keep +the one warm, and to teach the other Greek and Spanish. I am aware, +indeed, in part, that I am nourishing a rival who will far surpass me; +and this is an additional motive, and will be an added pleasure. + +We are at this moment removing from the Bagni to Pisa, for the Serchio +has broken its banks, and all the country about is under water. An old +friend and fellow-townsman of mine, Captain Medwin, is on a visit to +us at present, and we anxiously expect Keats, to whom I would write if +I knew where to address. + +Adieu, my dear Marianne. Write soon; kiss all the babes for me, and +tell me news of them, and give my love to Bessy and Hunt. + + + +To LEIGH HUNT + +_A literary collaboration_ + + +Pisa, 26 _Aug._ 1821. + +MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +Since I last wrote to you, I have been on a visit to Lord Byron at +Ravenna. The result of this visit was a determination, on his part, to +come and live at Pisa; and I have taken the finest palace on the Lung' +Arno for him. But the material part of my visit consists in a message +which he desires me to give you, and which, I think, ought to add +to your determination--for such a one I hope you have formed--of +restoring your shattered health and spirits by a migration to these +'regions mild of calm and serene air'. + +He proposes that you should come out and go shares with him and me, +in a periodical work, to be conducted here; in which each of the +contracting parties should publish all their original compositions and +share the profits. He proposed it to Moore, but for some reason it was +never brought to bear. There can be no doubt that the _profits_ of +any scheme in which you and Lord Byron engage, must, from various, +yet co-operating reasons, be very great. As for myself, I am for the +present only a sort of link between you and him, until you can know +each other, and effectuate the arrangement; since (to entrust you with +a secret which, for your sake, I withhold from Lord Byron) nothing +would induce me to share in the profits, and still less, in the +borrowed splendour of such a partnership. You and he, in different +manners, would be equal, and would bring, in a different manner, but +in the same proportion, equal stocks of reputation and success. Do not +let my frankness with you, nor my belief that you deserve it more than +Lord Byron, have the effect of deterring you from assuming a station +in modern literature which the universal voice of my contemporaries +forbids me either to stoop or to aspire to. I am, and I desire to be, +nothing. + +I did not ask Lord Byron to assist me in sending a remittance for your +journey; because there are men, however excellent, from whom we would +never receive an obligation, in the worldly sense of the word; and I +am as jealous for my friend as for myself. But I suppose that I shall +at last make up an impudent face, and ask Horace Smith to add to the +many obligations he has conferred on me. I know I need only ask. + +I think I have never told you how very much I like your _Amyntas_; it +almost reconciles me to translations. In another sense I still demur. +You might have written another such a poem as the _Nymphs_, with no +access of efforts. I am full of thoughts and plans, and should do +something, if the feeble and irritable frame which incloses it was +willing to obey the spirit. I fancy that then I should do great +things. Before this you will have seen _Adonais_. Lord Byron, I +suppose from modesty, on account of his being mentioned in it, did +not say a word of _Adonais_, though he was loud in his praise of +_Prometheus_, and, what you will not agree with him in, censure of +the _Cenci_. Certainly, if _Marino Faliero_ is a drama, the _Cenci_ +is not--but that between ourselves. Lord Byron is reformed, as far +as gallantry goes, and lives with a beautiful and sentimental Italian +lady, who is as much attached to him as may be. I trust greatly to his +intercourse with you, for his creed to become as pure as he thinks his +conduct is. He has many generous and exalted qualities, but the canker +of aristocracy wants to be cut out. + + + + +JOHN KEATS + +1795-1821 + + + +To JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS + +_Burns's cottage_ + + +Maybole, 11 _July_ [1818]. + +MY DEAR REYNOLDS, + +... I am approaching Burns's cottage very fast. We have made continual +inquiries from the time we saw his tomb at Dumfries. His name, of +course, is known all about: his great reputation among the plodding +people is, 'that he wrote a good _mony_ sensible things'. One of the +pleasantest means of annulling self is approaching such a shrine as +the Cottage of Burns: we need not think of his misery--that is all +gone, bad luck to it! I shall look upon it hereafter with unmixed +pleasure, as I do my Stratford-on-Avon day with Bailey. I shall fill +this sheet for you in the Bardie's country, going no further than +this, till I get to the town of Ayr, which will be a nine miles' walk +to tea. + +We were talking on different and indifferent things, when, on a +sudden, we turned a corner upon the immediate country of Ayr. The +sight was as rich as possible. I had no conception that the native +place of Burns was so beautiful; the idea I had was more desolate: his +'_Rigs of Barley_' seemed always to me but a few strips of green on a +cold hill--Oh, prejudice!--It was as rich as Devon. I endeavoured +to drink in the prospect, that I might spin it out to you, as the +silkworm makes silk from mulberry leaves. I cannot recollect it. +Besides all the beauty, there were the mountains of Arran Isle, black +and huge over the sea. We came down upon everything suddenly; there +were in our way the 'bonny Doon', with the brig that Tam o' Shanter +crossed, Kirk Alloway, Burns's Cottage, and then the Brigs of Ayr. +First we stood upon the Bridge across the Doon, surrounded by every +phantasy of green in tree, meadow, and hill: the stream of the Doon, +as a farmer told us, is covered with trees 'from head to foot'. +You know those beautiful heaths, so fresh against the weather of a +summer's evening; there was one stretching along behind the trees. + +I wish I knew always the humour my friends would be in at opening +a letter of mine, to suit it to them as nearly as possible. I could +always find an egg-shell for melancholy, and, as for merriment, a +witty humour will turn anything to account. My head is sometimes in +such a whirl in considering the million likings and antipathies of our +moments, that I can get into no settled strain in my letters. My wig! +Burns and sentimentality coming across you and Frank Floodgate in the +office. Oh, Scenery, that thou shouldst be crushed between two puns! +As for them, I venture the rascalliest in the Scotch region. I hope +Brown does not put them in his journal: if he does, I must sit on the +cutty-stool all next winter. We went to Kirk Alloway. 'A prophet is +no prophet in his own country.' We went to the Cottage and took some +whisky. I wrote a sonnet for the mere sake of writing some lines under +the roof: they are so bad I cannot transcribe them. The man at the +cottage was a great bore with his anecdotes. I hate the rascal. His +life consists in fuzy, fuzzy, fuzziest. He drinks glasses, five for +the quarter, and twelve for the hour; he is a mahogany-faced old +jackass who knew Burns: he ought to have been kicked for having spoken +to him. He calls himself 'a curious old bitch', but he is a flat +old dog. I should like to employ Caliph Vathek to kick him. Oh, the +flummery of a birthplace! Cant! cant! cant! It is enough to give +a spirit the guts-ache. Many a true word, they say, is spoken in +jest--this may be because his gab hindered my sublimity: the flat dog +made me write a flat sonnet. My dear Reynolds, I cannot write about +scenery and visitings. Fancy is indeed less than a present palpable +reality, but it is greater than remembrance. You would lift your eyes +from Homer only to see close before you the real Isle of Tenedos. You +would rather read Homer afterwards than remember yourself. One song +of Burns's is of more worth to you than all I could think for a whole +year in his native country. His misery is a dead weight upon the +nimbleness of one's quill; I tried to forget it--to drink toddy +without any care--to write a merry sonnet--it won't do--he talked, he +drank with blackguards; he was miserable. We can see horribly clear, +in the works of such a man, his whole life, as if we were God's +spies.... + + + +TO RICHARD WOODHOUSE + +_The poetic character_ + + +Hampstead, 27 _Oct_. 1818. + +MY DEAR WOODHOUSE, + +Your letter gave me great satisfaction, more on account of its +friendliness than any relish of that matter in it which is accounted +so acceptable in the _genus irritabile_. The best answer I can +give you is in a clerklike manner to make some observations on two +principal points which seem to point like indices into the midst of +the whole _pro_ and _con_ about genius, and views, and achievements, +and ambition, _et coetera_. 1st. As to the poetical character itself +(I mean that sort, of which, if I am anything, I am a member; that +sort distinguished from the Wordsworthian, or egotistical sublime; +which is a thing _per se_, and stands alone), it is not itself--it has +no self--it is everything and nothing--it has no character--it enjoys +light and shade--it lives in gusto, be it foul or fair, high or low, +rich or poor, mean or elevated--it has as much delight in conceiving +an Iago as an Imogen. What shocks the virtuous philosopher delights +the chameleon poet. It does no harm from its relish of the dark side +of things, any more than from its taste for the bright one, because +they both end in speculation. A poet is the most unpoetical of +anything in existence, because he has no identity; he is continually +in for, and filling, some other body. The sun, the moon, the sea, and +men and women, who are creatures of impulse, are poetical, and have +about them an unchangeable attribute; the poet has none, no identity. +He is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's creatures. If, then, +he has no self, and if I am a poet, where is the wonder that I should +say I would write no more? Might I not at that very instant have been +cogitating on the characters of Saturn and Ops? It is a wretched thing +to confess, but it is a very fact, that not one word I ever utter can +be taken for granted as an opinion growing out of my identical nature. +How can it, when I have no nature? When I am in a room with people, +if I ever am free from speculating on creations of my own brain, then, +not myself goes home to myself, but the identity of every one in the +room begins to press upon me, [so] that I am in a very little time +annihilated--not only among men; it would be the same in a nursery of +children. I know not whether I make myself wholly understood: I hope +enough so to let you see that no dependence is to be placed on what I +said that day. + +In the second place, I will speak of my views, and of the life I +purpose to myself. I am ambitious of doing the world some good: if +I should be spared, that may be the work of maturer years--in the +interval I will assay to reach to as high a summit in poetry as the +nerve bestowed upon me will suffer. The faint conceptions I have of +poems to come bring the blood frequently into my forehead. All I +hope is, that I may not lose all interest in human affairs--that +the solitary indifference I feel for applause, even from the finest +spirits, will not blunt any acuteness of vision I may have. I do not +think it will. I feel assured I should write from the mere yearning +and fondness I have for the beautiful, even if my night's labours +should be burnt every morning, and no eye ever shine upon them. +But even now I am perhaps not speaking from myself, but from some +character in whose soul I now live ... + + + +TO PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +_Returning advice_ + + +Hampstead, 10 _Aug_. 1820. + +MY DEAR SHELLEY, + +I am very much gratified that you, in a foreign country, and with a +mind almost over-occupied, should write to me in the strain of the +letter beside me. If I do not take advantage of your invitation, +it will be prevented by a circumstance I have very much at heart to +prophesy. There is no doubt that an English winter would put an end to +me, and do so in a lingering, hateful manner. Therefore, I must either +voyage or journey to Italy, as a soldier marches up to a battery. +My nerves at present are the worst part of me, yet they feel soothed +that, come what extreme may, I shall not be destined to remain in one +spot long enough to take a hatred of any four particular bedposts. I +am glad you take any pleasure in my poor poem, which I would willingly +take the trouble to unwrite, if possible, did I care so much as I +have done about reputation. I received a copy of the _Cenci_, as from +yourself, from Hunt. There is only one part of it I am judge of--the +poetry and dramatic effect, which by many spirits nowadays is +considered the Mammon. A modern work, it is said, must have a purpose, +which may be the God. An artist must serve Mammon; he must have +'self-concentration'--selfishness, perhaps. You, I am sure, +will forgive me for sincerely remarking that you might curb your +magnanimity, and be more of an artist, and load every rift of your +subject with ore. The thought of such discipline must fall like cold +chains upon you, who perhaps never sat with your wings furled for six +months together. And is not this extraordinary talk for the writer of +_Endymion_, whose mind was like a pack of scattered cards? I am picked +up and sorted to a pip. My imagination is a monastery, and I am its +monk. I am in expectation of _Prometheus_ every day. Could I have my +own wish effected, you would have it still in manuscript, or be but +now putting an end to the second act. I remember you advising me not +to publish my first blights, on Hampstead Heath. I am returning advice +upon your hands. Most of the poems in the volume I send you have been +written above two years, and would never have been published but for a +hope of gain; so you see I am inclined enough to take your advice now. +I must express once more my deep sense of your kindness, adding my +sincere thanks and respects for Mrs. Shelley. In hope of soon seeing +you-- + + + +To CHARLES BROWN + +_A despairing cry_ + + +Naples, 1 _Nov_. [1820.] + +MY DEAR BROWN, + +Yesterday we were let out of quarantine, during which my health +suffered more from bad air and the stifled cabin than it had done the +whole voyage. The fresh air revived me a little, and I hope I am well +enough this morning to write to you a short calm letter;--if that can +be called one, in which I am afraid to speak of what I would +fainest dwell upon. As I have gone thus far into it, I must go on +a little;--perhaps it may relieve the load of _wretchedness_ which +presses upon me. The persuasion that I shall see her no more will kill +me. My dear Brown, I should have had her when I was in health, and I +should have remained well. I can bear to die--I cannot bear to leave +her. Oh, God! God! God! Everything I have in my trunks that reminds +me of her goes through me like a spear. The silk lining she put in my +travelling cap scalds my head. My imagination is horribly vivid +about her--I see her--I hear her. There is nothing in the world of +sufficient interest to divert me from her a moment. This was the case +when I was in England: I cannot recollect, without shuddering, the +time that I was a prisoner at Hunt's, and used to keep my eyes +fixed on Hampstead all day. Then there was a good hope of seeing +her again--Now!--O that I could be buried near where she lives! I +am afraid to write to her--to receive a letter from her--to see her +handwriting would break my heart--even to hear of her anyhow, to see +her name written, would be more than I can bear. My dear Brown, what +am I to do? Where can I look for consolation or ease? If I had any +chance of recovery, this passion would kill me. Indeed, through the +whole of my illness, both at your house and at Kentish Town, this +fever has never ceased wearing me out. When you write to me, which you +will do immediately, write to Rome (_poste restante_)--if she is well +and happy, put a mark thus +; if-- + +Remember me to all. I will endeavour to bear my miseries patiently. +A person in my state of health should not have such miseries to bear. +Write a short note to my sister, saying you have heard from me. Severn +is very well. If I were in better health I would urge your coming to +Rome. I fear there is no one can give me any comfort. Is there any +news of George? O that something fortunate had ever happened to me or +my brothers!--then I might hope,--but despair is forced upon me as a +habit. My dear Brown, for my sake, be her advocate for ever. I +cannot say a word about Naples; I do not feel at all concerned in the +thousand novelties around me. I am afraid to write to her. I should +like her to know that I do not forget her. Oh, Brown, I have coals of +fire in my breast. It surprises me that the human heart is capable of +containing and bearing so much misery. Was I born for this end? God +bless her, and her mother, and my sister, and George, and his wife, +and you, and all!... + + + + +THOMAS HOOD + +1799-1845 + + + +To CHARLES DICKENS + +_American Notes_ + + +17 Elm Tree Road, 12 _Oct_. 1842. + +DEAR DICKENS, + +Can you let me have an early copy of the _American Notes_ so that I +may review it in the _New Monthly_? Is it really likely to be ready +as advertised? I aim this at Devonshire Place, supposing you to be +returned, for with these winds 'tis no fit time for the coast. But +your bones are not so weather unwise (for ignorance _is_ bliss) as +mine. I should have asked this by word of mouth in Devonshire Place, +but the weather has kept me indoors. It is no fiction that the +complaint, derived from Dutch malaria seven years ago, is revived by +Easterly winds. Otherwise I have been better than usual, and 'never +say die'. Don't forget about the Yankee Notes. I never had but one +American friend, and lost him through _a good crop of pears_. He paid +us a visit in England; whereupon in honour of him, a pear tree, which +had never borne fruit to speak of within memory of man, was loaded +with ninety dozen of brown somethings. Our gardener said they were +a _keeping_ sort, and would be good at Christmas; whereupon, as our +Jonathan was on the eve of sailing for the States, we sent him a few +dozens to dessert him on the voyage. Some he put at the bottom of a +trunk (he wrote to us) to take to America; but he could not have been +gone above a day or two, when all _our_ pears began to rot! _His_ +would, of course, by sympathy, and I presume spoilt his linen or +clothes, for I have never heard of him since. Perhaps he thought I had +_done_ him on purpose, and for sartin the tree, my accomplice, never +bore any more pears, good or bad, after that supernatural crop. + +Pray present my respects for me to Mrs. Dickens. How she must enjoy +being at home and discovering her children, after her Columbusing, and +only discovering America! + + + +TO THE MANCHESTER ATHENAEUM + +_The uses of literature_ + + +(From my bed) + +17 Elm Tree Road, St. John's Wood, 18 _July_, 1843. + +GENTLEMEN, + +If my humble name can be of the least use for your purpose, it is +heartily at your service, with my best wishes for the prosperity of +the Manchester Athenaeum, and my warmest approval of the objects of +that Institution. + +I have elsewhere recorded my own deep obligations to Literature--that +a natural turn for reading, and intellectual pursuits, probably +preserved me from the moral shipwreck so apt to befall those who are +deprived in early life of the paternal pilotage. At the very least my +books kept me aloof from the ring, the dog-pit, the tavern, and the +saloons, with their degrading orgies. For the closet associate of Pope +and Addison, the mind accustomed to the noble, though silent discourse +of Shakespeare and Milton, will hardly seek, or put up with low +company and slang. The reading animal will not be content with the +brutish wallowings that satisfy the unlearned pigs of the world. +Later experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that +literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow; how powerfully +intellectual pursuits can help in keeping the head from crazing, and +the heart from breaking; nay, not to be too grave, how generous mental +food can even atone for a meagre diet; rich fare on the paper, for +short commons on the cloth. + +Poisoned by the malaria of the Dutch marshes, my stomach for many +months resolutely set itself against fish, flesh, or fowl; my appetite +had no more edge than the German knife placed before me. But luckily +the mental palate and digestion were still sensible and vigorous; and +whilst I passed untasted every dish at the Rhenish table-d'-hôte, +I could still enjoy my _Peregrine Pickle_, and the feast after the +manner of the Ancients. There was no yearning towards calf's head +_à la tortue_, or sheep's heart; but I could still relish Head _à la +Brunnen_, and the _Heart of Mid-Lothian._ Still more recently it was +my misfortune, with a tolerable appetite, to be condemned to Lenten +fare, like Sancho Panza, by my physician, to a diet, in fact, lower +than any prescribed by the Poor-Law Commissioners, all animal food, +from a bullock to a rabbit, being strictly interdicted, as well as +all fluids stronger than that which lays dust, washes pinafores, and +waters polyanthus. But the feast of reason and the flow of soul were +still mine! + +Denied beef, I had Bulwer and Cowper; forbidden mutton, there was +Lamb; and in lieu of pork, the great Bacon, or Hogg. Then as to +beverage; it was hard, doubtless, for a Christian to set his face, +like a Turk, against the juice of the grape. But, eschewing wine, +I had still my Butler; and in the absence of liquor, all the Choice +Spirits from Tom Browne to Tom Moore. Thus though confined physically +to the drink that drowns kittens, I quaffed mentally, not merely the +best of our own home-made, but the rich, racy, sparkling growths of +France and Italy, of Germany and Spain; the champagne of Molière, the +Monte Pulciano of Boccaccio, the hock of Schiller, and the sherry of +Cervantes. Depressed bodily by the fluid that damps everything, I got +intellectually elevated with Milton, a little merry with Swift, or +rather jolly with Rabelais, whose Pantagruel, by the way, is equal to +the best gruel with rum in it. + +So far can Literature palliate, or compensate, for gastronomical +privations. But there are other evils, great and small, in this world, +which try the stomach less than the head, the heart, and the temper; +bowls that will not roll right, well-laid schemes that will 'gang +aglee', and ill winds that blow with the pertinacity of the monsoon. +Of these Providence has allotted me a full share, but still, +paradoxical as it may sound, my _burthen_ has been greatly lightened +by a _load of books_. The manner of this will be best understood by a +_feline_ illustration. Everybody has heard of the two Kilkenny cats, +who devoured each other; but it is not so generally known, that they +left behind them an orphan kitten, which, true to its breed, began to +eat itself up, till it was diverted from the operation by a mouse. Now +the human mind, under vexation, is like that kitten, for it is apt to +_prey upon itself_, unless drawn off by a new object, and none better +for the purpose than a book. For example, one of Defoe's; for who, +in reading his thrilling _History of the Great Plague_, would not be +reconciled to a few little ones? + +Many, many a dreary weary hour have I got over--many a gloomy +misgiving postponed--many a mental and bodily annoyance forgotten by +help of the tragedies, and comedies, of our dramatists and novelists! +Many a trouble has been soothed by the still small voice of the moral +philosopher; many a dragon-like care charmed to sleep by the sweet +song of the poet! For all which I cry incessantly, not aloud, but in +my heart, 'Thanks and honour to the glorious masters of the pen, and +the great inventors of the press!' Such has been my own experience of +the blessing and comfort of literature and intellectual pursuits; +and of the same mind, doubtless, was Sir Humphry Davy, who went for +_Consolations in Travel_, not to the inn, or the posting-house, but to +his library and his books. + + + +To DR. MOIR + +_A humourist to the last_ + + +[1845.] + +DEAR MOIR, + +God bless you and yours, and good-bye! I drop these few lines, as in a +bottle from a ship water-logged, and on the brink of foundering, being +in the last stage of dropsical debility; but though suffering in body, +serene in mind. So without reversing my union-jack, I await my last +lurch. Till which, believe me, dear Moir, + +Yours most truly. + + + +To SIR ROBERT PEEL + +_A farewell letter_ + + +Devonshire Lodge, New Finchley Road, [1845]. + +DEAR SIR, + +We are not to meet in the flesh. Given over by my physicians and by +myself, I am only kept alive by frequent instalments of mulled port +wine. In this extremity I feel a comfort, for which I cannot refrain +from again thanking you, with all the sincerity of a dying man,--and, +at the same time, bidding you a respectful farewell. + +Thank God my mind is composed and my reason undisturbed, but my race +as an author is run. My physical debility finds no tonic virtue in +a steel pen, otherwise I would have written one more paper--a +forewarning one--against an evil, or the danger of it, arising from +a literary movement in which I have had some share, a one-sided +humanity, opposite to that Catholic Shakespearian sympathy, which +felt with King as well as Peasant, and duly estimated the mortal +temptations of both stations. Certain classes at the poles of Society +are already too far asunder; it should be the duty of our writers to +draw them nearer by kindly attraction, not to aggravate the existing +repulsion, and place a wider moral gulf between Rich and Poor, with +Hate on the one side and Fear on the other. But I am too weak for this +task, the last I had set myself; it is death that stops my pen, you +see, and not the pension. + +God bless you, Sir, and prosper all your measures for the benefit of +my beloved country. + + + + +ROBERT BROWNING + +1812-1889 + + +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING + +1806-1861 + + + +To LEIGH HUNT + +_A joint epistle_ + + +Bagni di Lucca, 6 _Oct_. 1857. + +DEAR LEIGH HUNT, + +(It is hard to write, but you bade me do so; yet I had better say +'Master Hunt', as they used to call Webster or Ford.) A nine months' +silence after such a letter as yours seems too strange even to you +perhaps. So understand that you gave us more delight at once than we +could bear, that was the beginning of the waiting to recover spirit +and try and do one's feeling a little less injustice. But soon +followed unexpected sorrows to us and to you, and the expression of +even gratitude grew hard again. Certainly all this while your letter +has been laid before our very eyes, and we have waited for a brighter +day than ever came till we left Florence two months ago and more, then +we brought it to 'answer' among the chestnut trees; but immediately +on our arrival a friend was attacked by fever, and we were kept in +anxiety about him for six weeks. At last he recovered sufficiently to +leave for Florence, and (just think) our little boy became ill, +for the first time in his life, and gave us solicitude enough for a +fortnight: it is nothing now that it is over; he is going about now +almost as well as before, and we go away to-morrow, as I said. But I +will try and get one, at least, of the joys I came to find here, and +really write to you from this place, as I meant to do. '_I_'--you +know it is my wife that I write for, though you entangle and distract +either of us by the reverberations (so to speak) of pleasures over and +above the pleasure you give us. I intend to say, that you praise that +poem, and mix it up with praise of her very self, and then give it to +me directly, and then give it to _her_ with the pride you have just +given me, and then it somehow comes back to me increased so far, till +the effect is just as you probably intended. I wish my wife may know +you more: I wish you may see and know her more, but you cannot live +by her eleven years, as I have done--or yes, what cannot you do, being +the man, the poet you are? This last word, I dare think, I have a +right to say; I _have_ always venerated you as a poet; I believe your +poetry to be sure of its eventual reward; other people, not unlikely, +may feel like me, that there has been no need of getting into feverish +haste to cry out on what is; yet you, who wrote it, can leave it and +look at other poetry, and speak so of it: how well of you! + +I am still too near the production of _Aurora Leigh_ to be quite able +to see it all; my wife used to write it, and lay it down to hear our +child spell, or when a visitor came,--it was thrust under the cushion +then. At Paris, a year ago last March, she gave me the first six books +to read, I having never seen a line before. She then wrote the rest, +and transcribed them in London, where I read them also. I wish, in +one sense, that I had written and she had read it.... I shall commend +myself to you by telling you this. Indeed, the proper acknowledgement +of your letter seems to be that one should do something, not say +something. If you were here, I might quite naturally begin repeating +_Giaffar_ or _Solomon_, and the rest. You would see whether I was not +capable of getting all the good out of your praise. + +While I write, there is a strange thing that happened last night +impossible to get out of my thoughts. It may give you pain to tell you +of it, yet if with the pain come triumphant memories and hopes, as I +expect there will, you may choose the pain with them. What decides me +to tell it is that I heard you years ago allude to the destruction of +a volume of _Lamia, Isabella, &c., to be restored to you yet_--now you +remember; also, I think, of your putting my name near Shelley's in the +end of your letter, where you say 'since I lost Shelley'. Is it not +strange that I should have transcribed for the first time, last night, +the _Indian Serenade_ that, together with some verses of Metastasio, +accompanied that book? That I should have been reserved to tell +the present possessor of them--to whom they were given by Captain +Roberts--_what_ the poem _was, and that it had been published_! It is +preserved religiously; but the characters are all but illegible, and +I needed a good magnifying-glass to be quite sure of such of them as +remain. The end is that I have rescued three or four variations in the +reading of that divine little poem, as one reads it, at least, in the +_Posthumous Poems_. It is headed the _Indian_ _Serenade_ (not _Lines +to an Indian Air_). In the first stanza the seventh line is 'Hath led +me'; in the second, the third line is 'And the champak's odours fail'; +and the eighth, 'O! Beloved as thou art!' In the last stanza, the +seventh line was, 'Oh, press it to thine own again.' Are not all these +better readings? (even to the 'Hath' for 'Has'.) There, I give them +you as you gave us Milton's hair. If I have mistaken in telling you, +you will understand and forgive. + +I think I will ask my wife to say a word or two so I shall be sure +that you forgive. Now let my wife say the remainder. All I have +wished to do--know how little likely it was that I should succeed in +that--was to assure you of my pride and affectionate gratitude.--God +bless you ever, + +R.B. + + +Dear friend, I will say; for I feel it must be something as good as +friendship that can forgive and understand this silence, so much like +the veriest human kind of ingratitude. When I look back and think--all +this time after that letter, and not a sign made--I wonder. Yet, +if you knew! First of all, we were silent because we waited for +information which you seemed to desire.... Then there were sadder +reasons. Poor _Aurora_, that you were so more than kind to (oh, how +can I think of it?), has been steeped in tears, and some of them of a +very bitter sort. Your letter was addressed to my husband, you knowing +by your delicate true instinct where your praise would give most +pleasure; but I believe Robert had not the heart to write when I felt +that I should not have the spirits to add a word in the proper key. +When we came here from Florence a few months ago to get repose and +cheerfulness from the sight of the mountains, we said to ourselves +that we would speak to you at ease--instead of which the word was +taken from our own mouth, and we have done little but sit by sick beds +and meditate on gastric fevers. So disturbed we have been--so sad! our +darling precious child the last victim. To see him lying still on his +golden curls, with cheeks too scarlet to suit the poor patient eyes, +looking so frightfully like an angel! It was very hard. But this is +over, I do thank God, and we are on the point of carrying back our +treasure with us to Florence to-morrow, quite recovered, if a little +thinner and weaker, and the young voice as merry as ever. You are +aware that that child I am more proud of than twenty _Auroras_, even +after Leigh Hunt has praised them. He is eight years old, has never +been '_crammed_', but reads English, Italian, French, German, and +plays the piano--then, is the sweetest child! sweeter than he looks. +When he was ill, he said to me, 'You pet! don't be unhappy about +_me_. Think it's a boy in the street, and be a little sorry, but not +unhappy.' Who could not be unhappy, I wonder? + +I never saw your book called the _Religion of the Heart._ It's the +only book of yours I never saw, and I mean to wipe out that reproach +on the soonest day possible. I receive more dogmas, perhaps (my +'perhaps' being in the dark rather), than you do. I believe in the +divinity of Jesus Christ in the intensest sense--that he was God +absolutely. But for the rest, I am very unorthodox--about the spirit, +the flesh, and the devil, and if you would not let me sit by you, a +great many churchmen wouldn't; in fact, churches do all of them, as at +present constituted, seem too narrow and low to hold true Christianity +in its proximate developments. I, at least, cannot help believing them +so. + +My dear friend, can we dare, after our sins against you--can we dare +_wish_ for a letter from you sometimes? Ask, we dare not. May God +bless you. Even if you had not praised me and made me so grateful, +I should be grateful to you for three things--for your poetry (that +first), then for Milton's hair, and then for the memory I have of +our visit to you, when you sat in that chair and spoke so mildly and +deeply at once. + +Let me be ever affectionately yours, + +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. + + + + +CHARLOTTE BRONTË + +1816-1855 + + + +TO A FRIEND + +_Trials of a governess_ + + +_July_ 1839. + +I cannot procure ink, without going into the drawing-room, where I do +not wish to go.... I should have written to you long since, and told +you every detail of the utterly new scene into which I have lately +been cast, had I not been daily expecting a letter from yourself, and +wondering and lamenting that you did not write; for you will remember +it was your turn. I must not bother you too much with my sorrows, of +which, I fear, you have heard an exaggerated account. If you were near +me, perhaps I might be tempted to tell you all, to grow egotistical, +and pour out the long history of a private governess's trials and +crosses in her first situation. As it is, I will only ask you to +imagine the miseries of a reserved wretch like me, thrown at once into +the midst of a large family--proud as peacocks and wealthy as Jews--at +a time when they were particularly gay--when the house was filled with +company--all strangers--people whose faces I had never seen before. +In this state I had charge given me of a set of pampered, spoilt, +turbulent children, whom I was expected constantly to amuse, as well +as to instruct. I soon found that the constant demand on my stock +of animal spirits reduced them to the lowest state of exhaustion; at +times I felt--and, I suppose, seemed--depressed. To my astonishment, +I was taken to task on the subject by Mrs.----, with a sternness of +manner and a harshness of language scarcely credible; like a fool, I +cried most bitterly. I could not help it; my spirits quite failed me +at first. I thought I had done my best--strained every nerve to please +her; and to be treated in that way, merely because I was shy and +sometimes melancholy, was too bad. At first I was for giving all up +and going home. But, after a little reflection, I determined to summon +what energy I had, and to weather the storm. I said to myself, 'I have +never yet quitted a place without gaining a friend; adversity is +a good school; the poor are born to labour, and the dependent to +endure.' I resolved to be patient, to command my feelings, and to take +what came; the ordeal, I reflected, would not last many weeks, and I +trusted it would do me good. I recollected the fable of the willow and +the oak; I bent quietly, and now, I trust, the storm is blowing over +me. Mrs. ---- is generally considered an agreeable woman; so she is, I +doubt not, in general society. Her health is sound, her animal spirits +good, consequently she is cheerful in company; but oh! does this +compensate for the absence of every fine feeling--of every gentle and +delicate sentiment? She behaves somewhat more civilly to me now than +she did at first, and the children are a little more manageable; but +she does not know my character, and she does not wish to know it. +I have never had five minutes' conversation with her since I came, +except while she was scolding me. I have no wish to be pitied, except +by yourself; if I were talking to you I could tell you much more. + + + +To WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + +_Thanks for advice_ + + +[1840.] + +... Authors are generally very tenacious of their productions, but I +am not so much attached to this but that I can give it up without +much distress. No doubt, if I had gone on, I should have made quite +a Richardsonian concern of it.... I had materials in my head for +half-a-dozen volumes.... Of course, it is with considerable regret I +relinquish any scheme so charming as the one I have sketched. It is +very edifying and profitable to create a world out of your own brains, +and people it with inhabitants, who are so many Melchisedecs, and have +no father nor mother but your own imagination.... I am sorry I did +not exist fifty or sixty years ago, when the _Ladies' Magazine_ was +flourishing like a green bay tree. In that case, I make no doubt, my +aspirations after literary fame would have met with due encouragement, +and I should have had the pleasure of introducing Messrs. Percy and +West into the very best society, and recording all their sayings and +doings in double-columned close-printed pages.... I recollect, when I +was a child, getting hold of some antiquated volumes, and reading +them by stealth with the most exquisite pleasure. You give a correct +description of the patient Grisels of those days. My aunt was one of +them; and to this day she thinks the tales of the _Ladies' Magazine_ +infinitely superior to any trash of modern literature. So do I; for +I read them in childhood, and childhood has a very strong faculty of +admiration, but a very weak one of criticism.... I am pleased that +you cannot quite decide whether I am an attorney's clerk or a +novel-reading dressmaker. I will not help you at all in the discovery; +and as to my handwriting, or the ladylike touches in my style and +imagery, you must not draw any conclusion from that--I may employ an +amanuensis. Seriously, sir, I am very much obliged to you for your +kind and candid letter. I almost wonder you took the trouble to read +and notice the novelette of an anonymous scribe, who had not even the +manners to tell you whether he was a man or a woman, or whether his +'C.T.' meant Charles Timms or Charlotte Tomkins. + + + +TO A FRIEND + +_At school abroad_ + + +Brussels [c. _May_ 1842]. + +I was twenty-six years old a week or two since; and at this ripe time +of life I am a school-girl, and, on the whole, very happy in that +capacity. It felt very strange at first to submit to authority instead +of exercising it--to obey orders instead of giving them; but I like +that state of things. I returned to it with the same avidity that a +cow, that has long been kept on dry hay, returns to fresh grass. Don't +laugh at my simile. It is natural to me to submit, and very unnatural +to command. + +This is a large school, in which there are about forty externes, or +day-pupils, and twelve pensionnaires, or boarders. Madame Héger, +the head, is a lady of precisely the same cast of mind, degree of +cultivation, and quality of intellect as Miss ----. I think the severe +points are a little softened, because she has not been disappointed, +and consequently soured. In a word, she is a married instead of a +maiden lady. There are three teachers in the school--Mademoiselle +Blanche, Mademoiselle Sophie, and Mademoiselle Marie. The two first +have no particular character. One is an old maid, and the other will +be one. Mademoiselle Marie is talented and original, but of repulsive +and arbitrary manners, which have made the whole school, except myself +and Emily, her bitter enemies. No less than seven masters attend, to +teach the different branches of education--French, Drawing, Music, +Singing, Writing, Arithmetic, and German. All in the house are +Catholics except ourselves, one other girl, and the gouvernante +of Madame's children, an Englishwoman, in rank something between a +lady's-maid and a nursery governess. The difference in country and +religion makes a broad line of demarcation between us and all the +rest. We are completely isolated in the midst of numbers. Yet I think +I am never unhappy; my present life is so delightful, so congenial to +my own nature, compared to that of a governess. My time, constantly +occupied, passes too rapidly. Hitherto both Emily and I have had good +health, and therefore we have been able to work well. There is one +individual of whom I have not yet spoken--M. Héger, the husband of +Madame. He is professor of rhetoric, a man of power as to mind, but +very choleric and irritable in temperament. He is very angry with me +just at present, because I have written a translation which he chose +to stigmatize as '_peu correcte_'. He did not tell me so, but wrote +the word on the margin of my book, and asked, in brief stern phrase, +how it happened that my compositions were always better than my +translations? adding that the thing seemed to him inexplicable. The +fact is, some weeks ago, in a high-flown humour, he forbade me to use +either dictionary or grammar in translating the most difficult English +compositions into French. This makes the task rather arduous, and +compels me every now and then to introduce an English word, which +nearly plucks the eyes out of his head when he sees it. Emily and he +don't draw well together at all. Emily works like a horse, and she has +had great difficulties to contend with--far greater than I have +had. Indeed, those who come to a French school for instruction ought +previously to have acquired a considerable knowledge of the French +language, otherwise they will lose a great deal of time, for the +course of instruction is adapted to natives and not to foreigners; +and in these large establishments they will not change their ordinary +course for one or two strangers. The few private lessons that M. Héger +has vouchsafed to give us, are, I suppose, to be considered a great +favour; and I can perceive they have already excited much spite and +jealousy in the school. + +You will abuse this letter for being short and dreary, and there are a +hundred things which I want to tell you, but I have not time. Brussels +is a beautiful city. The Belgians hate the English. Their external +morality is more rigid than ours. To lace the stays without a +handkerchief on the neck is considered a disgusting piece of +indelicacy. + + + +To A FRIEND + +_Curates to tea_ + + +[1845.] + +You thought I refused you coldly, did you? It was a queer sort of +coldness, when I would have given my ears to say Yes, and was obliged +to say No. Matters, however, are now a little changed. Anne is come +home, and her presence certainly makes me feel more at liberty. Then, +if all be well, I will come and see you. Tell me only when I must +come. Mention the week and the day. Have the kindness also to answer +the following queries, if you can. How far is it from Leeds to +Sheffield? Can you give me a notion of the cost? Of course, when I +come, you will let me enjoy your own company in peace, and not drag me +out a-visiting. I have no desire at all to see your curate. I think he +must be like all the other curates I have seen; and they seem to me +a self-seeking, vain, empty race. At this blessed moment, we have no +less than three of them in Haworth parish--and there is not one to +mend another. The other day, they all three, accompanied by Mr. S., +dropped, or rather rushed, in unexpectedly to tea. It was Monday +(baking-day), and I was hot and tired; still, if they had behaved +quietly and decently, I would have served them out their tea in peace; +but they began glorifying themselves, and abusing Dissenters in such +a manner, that my temper lost its balance, and I pronounced a few +sentences sharply and rapidly, which struck them all dumb. Papa was +greatly horrified also, but I don't regret it. + + + +To GEORGE HENRY LEWES + +_Herself and Miss Austen_ + + +12 _Jan_. 1848. + +Dear Sir, + +I thank you then sincerely for your generous review; and it is with +the sense of double content I express my gratitude, because I am now +sure the tribute is not superfluous or obtrusive. You were not severe +on _Jane Eyre_; you were very lenient. I am glad you told me my faults +plainly in private, for in your public notice you touch on them so +lightly, I should perhaps have passed them over, thus indicated, with +too little reflection. + +I mean to observe your warning about being careful how I undertake new +works; my stock of materials is not abundant, but very slender; and +besides, neither my experience, my acquirements, nor my powers, are +sufficiently varied to justify my ever becoming a frequent writer. I +tell you this, because your article in _Fraser_ left in me an uneasy +impression that you were disposed to think better of the author of +_Jane Eyre_ than that individual deserved; and I would rather you had +a correct than a flattering opinion of me, even though I should never +see you. + +If I ever _do_ write another book, I think I will have nothing of what +you call 'melodrama'; I _think_ so, but I am not sure. I _think_, +too, I will endeavour to follow the counsel which shines out of +Miss Austen's 'mild eyes', 'to finish more and be more subdued'; but +neither am I sure of that. When authors write best, or at least, when +they write most fluently, an influence seems to waken in them, which +becomes their master--which will have its own way--putting out of view +all behests but its own, dictating certain words, and insisting +on their being used, whether vehement or measured in their nature; +new-moulding characters, giving unthought-of turns to incidents, +rejecting carefully-elaborated old ideas, and suddenly creating and +adopting new ones. + +Is it not so? And should we try to counteract this influence? Can we +indeed counteract it? + + * * * * * + +Why do you like Miss Austen so very much? I am puzzled on that point. +What induced you to say that you would have rather written _Pride and +Prejudice_, or _Tom Jones_, than any of the Waverley Novels? + +I had not seen _Pride and Prejudice_ till I read that sentence of +yours, and then I got the book. And what did I find? An accurate, +daguerreotyped portrait of a commonplace face; a carefully-fenced, +highly-cultivated garden, with neat borders and delicate flowers; but +no glance of a bright, vivid physiognomy, no open country, no fresh +air, no blue hill, no bonny beck. I should hardly like to live with +her ladies and gentlemen, in their elegant but confined houses. These +observations will probably irritate you, but I shall run the risk. + +Now I can understand admiration of George Sand; for though I never saw +any of her works which I admired throughout (even _Consuelo_, which +is the best, or the best that I have read, appears to me to couple +strange extravagance with wondrous excellence), yet she has a grasp of +mind, which, if I cannot fully comprehend, I can very deeply respect; +she is sagacious and profound;--Miss Austen is only shrewd and +observant. + +Am I wrong--or, were you hasty in what you said? If you have time, +I should be glad to hear further on this subject; if not, or if you +think the questions frivolous, do not trouble yourself to reply. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The argument continued_ + + +18 _Jan_. 1848. + +Dear Sir, + +I must write you one more note, though I had not intended to trouble +you again so soon. I have to agree with you, and to differ from you. + +You correct my crude remarks on the subject of the 'influence'; well, +I accept your definition of what the effects of that influence should +be; I recognize the wisdom of your rules for its regulation.... + +What a strange lecture comes next in your letter! You say I must +familiarize my mind with the fact, that 'Miss Austen is not a poetess, +has no "sentiment"' (you scornfully enclose the word in inverted +commas), 'no eloquence, none of the ravishing enthusiasm of +poetry',--and then you add, I _must_ 'learn to acknowledge her as _one +of the greatest artists, of the greatest painters of human character_, +and one of the writers with the nicest sense of means to an end that +ever lived'. + +The last point only will I ever acknowledge. + +Can there be a great artist without poetry? + +What I call--what I will bend to, as a great artist then--cannot +be destitute of the divine gift. But by _poetry_, I am sure, you +understand something different to what I do, as you do by 'sentiment'. +It is _poetry_, as I comprehend the word, which elevates that +masculine George Sand, and makes out of something coarse, something +Godlike. It is 'sentiment', in my sense of the term--sentiment +jealously hidden, but genuine, which extracts the venom from that +formidable Thackeray, and converts what might be corrosive poison into +purifying elixir. + +If Thackeray did not cherish in his large heart deep feeling for his +kind, he would delight to exterminate; as it is, I believe, he wishes +only to reform. Miss Austen being, as you say, without 'sentiment', +without _poetry_, maybe _is_ sensible, real (more _real_ than _true_), +but she cannot be great. + +I submit to your anger, which I have now excited (for have I not +questioned the perfection of your darling?); the storm may pass over +me. Nevertheless, I will, when I can (I do not know when that will be, +as I have no access to a circulating library), diligently peruse all +Miss Austen's works, as you recommend.... You must forgive me for +not always being able to think as you do, and still believe me, Yours +gratefully. + + + +TO A FRIEND + +_Illness and death of Emily Brontë_ + + +23 _Nov_. 1848. + +I told you Emily was ill, in my last letter. She has not rallied yet. +She is _very_ ill. I believe, if you were to see her, your impression +would be that there is no hope. A more hollow, wasted, pallid aspect +I have not beheld. The deep tight cough continues; the breathing after +the least exertion is a rapid pant; and these symptoms are accompanied +by pains in the chest and side. Her pulse, the only time she allowed +it to be felt, was found to beat 115 per minute. In this state she +resolutely refuses to see a doctor; she will give no explanation of +her feelings, she will scarcely allow her feelings to be alluded to. +Our position is, and has been for some weeks, exquisitely painful. God +only knows how all this is to terminate. More than once, I have been +forced boldly to regard the terrible event of her loss as possible, +and even probable. But nature shrinks from such thoughts. I think +Emily seems the nearest thing to my heart in the world. + + * * * * * + +10 _Dec_. + +I hardly know what to say to you about the subject which now interests +me the most keenly of anything in this world, for, in truth, I hardly +know what to think myself. Hope and fear fluctuate daily. The pain in +her side and chest is better; the cough, the shortness of breath, the +extreme emaciation, continue. I have endured, however, such tortures +of uncertainty on this subject that, at length, I could endure it +no longer; and as her repugnance to seeing a medical man continues +immutable,--as she declares 'no poisoning doctor' shall come near +her,--I have written, unknown to her, to an eminent physician in +London, giving as minute a statement of her case and symptoms as I +could draw up, and requesting an opinion. I expect an answer in a day +or two. I am thankful to say that my own health at present is very +tolerable. It is well such is the case; for Anne, with the best will +in the world to be useful, is really too delicate to do or bear much. +She too, at present, has frequent pains in the side. Papa is also +pretty well, though Emily's state renders him very anxious. + + * * * * * + +_[Tuesday.]_ + +I should have written to you before, if I had had one word of hope to +say; but I have not. She grows daily weaker. The physician's opinion +was expressed too obscurely to be of use. He sent some medicine, which +she would not take. Moments so dark as these I have never known. I +pray for God's support to us all. Hitherto He has granted it. + + * * * * * + +21 _Dec_. 1848. + +Emily suffers no more from pain or weakness now. She never will suffer +more in this world. She is gone, after a hard, short conflict. She +died on _Tuesday_, the very day I wrote to you. I thought it very +possible she might be with us still for weeks; and a few hours +afterwards, she was in eternity. Yes; there is no Emily in time or +on earth now. Yesterday we put her poor, wasted, mortal frame quietly +under the church pavement. We are very calm at present. Why should we +be otherwise? The anguish of seeing her suffer is over; the spectacle +of the pains of death is gone by; the funeral day is past. We feel she +is at peace. No need now to tremble for the hard frost and the keen +wind. Emily does not feel them. She died in a time of promise. We saw +her taken from life in its prime. But it is God's will, and the place +where she is gone is better than that she has left. + +God has sustained me, in a way that I marvel at, through such agony +as I had not conceived. I now look at Anne, and wish she were well and +strong; but she is neither; nor is papa. Could you now come to us for +a few days? I would not ask you to stay long. Write and tell me if you +could come next week, and by what train. I would try to send a gig for +you to Keighley. You will, I trust, find us tranquil. Try to come. I +never so much needed the consolation of a friend's presence. Pleasure, +of course, there would be none for you in the visit, except what your +kind heart would teach you to find in doing good to others. + + + +To MR. G. SMITH + +_Thackeray and 'Esmond'_ + + +14 _Feb_. 1852. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +It has been a great delight to me to read Mr. Thackeray's work; and +I so seldom now express my sense of kindness that, for once, you must +permit me, without rebuke, to thank you for a pleasure so rare and +special. Yet I am not going to praise either Mr. Thackeray or his +book. I have read, enjoyed, been interested, and after all, feel full +as much ire and sorrow as gratitude and admiration. And still one +can never lay down a book of his without the two last feelings having +their part, be the subject or treatment what it may. In the first half +of the book, what chiefly struck me was the wonderful manner in which +the writer throws himself into the spirit and letters of the times +whereof he treats; the allusions, the illustrations, the style, +all seem to me so masterly in their exact keeping, their harmonious +consistency, their nice, natural truth, their pure exemption from +exaggeration. No second-rate imitator can write in that way; no coarse +scene-painter can charm us with an allusion so delicate and perfect. +But what bitter satire, what relentless dissection of diseased +subjects! Well, and this, too, is right, or would be right, if +the savage surgeon did not seem so fiercely pleased with his work. +Thackeray likes to dissect an ulcer or an aneurism; he has pleasure +in putting his cruel knife or probe into quivering, living flesh. +Thackeray would not like all the world to be good; no great satirist +would like society to be perfect. + +As usual, he is unjust to women; quite unjust. There is hardly any +punishment he does not deserve for making Lady Castlewood peep through +a keyhole, listen at a door, and be jealous of a boy and a milkmaid. +Many other things I noticed that, for my part, grieved and exasperated +me as I read; but then, again, came passages so true, so deeply +thought, so tenderly felt, one could not help forgiving and +admiring.... + +But I wish he could be told not to care much for dwelling on the +political or religious intrigues of the times. Thackeray, in his +heart, does not value political or religious intrigues of any age or +date. He likes to show us human nature at home, as he himself daily +sees it; his wonderful observant faculty likes to be in action. In him +this faculty is a sort of captain and leader; and if ever any passage +in his writings lacks interest, it is when this master-faculty is for +a time thrust into a subordinate position. I think such is the case in +the former half of the present volume. Towards the middle, he throws +off restraint, becomes himself, and is strong to the close. Everything +now depends on the second and third volumes. If, in pith and interest, +they fall short of the first, a true success cannot ensue. If the +continuation be an improvement upon the commencement, if the stream +gather force as it rolls, Thackeray will triumph. Some people have +been in the habit of terming him the second writer of the day; it just +depends on himself whether or not these critics shall be justified in +their award. He need not be the second. God made him second to no man. +If I were he, I would show myself as I am, not as critics report me; +at any rate, I would do my best. Mr. Thackeray is easy and indolent, +and seldom cares to do his best. Thank you once more; and believe +me--&c. + + + +TO THE SAME + +'_Esmond' again_ + + +10 _Nov_. 1852. + +... I have read the third volume of _Esmond._ I found it both +entertaining and exciting to me; it seems to possess an impetus and +excitement beyond the other two,--that movement and brilliancy its +predecessors sometimes wanted, never fails here. In certain passages, +I thought Thackeray used all his powers; their grand, serious force +yielded a profound satisfaction. 'At last he puts forth his strength,' +I could not help saying to myself. No character in the book strikes +me as more masterly than that of Beatrix; its conception is fresh, +and its delineation vivid. It is peculiar; it has impressions of a +new kind--new at least, to me. Beatrix is not, in herself, all bad. So +much does she sometimes reveal of what is good and great as to suggest +this feeling--you would think she was urged by a Fate. You would think +that some antique doom presses on her house, and that once in so +many generations its brightest ornament was to become its greatest +disgrace. At times, what is good in her struggles against this +terrible destiny, but the Fate conquers. Beatrix cannot be an honest +woman and a good man's wife. She 'tries, and she _cannot_'. Proud, +beautiful, and sullied, she was born what she becomes, a king's +mistress. I know not whether you have seen the notice in the _Leader_; +I read it just after concluding the book. Can I be wrong in deeming +it a notice tame, cold, and insufficient? With all its professed +friendliness, it produced on me a most disheartening impression. +Surely, another sort of justice than this will be rendered to _Esmond_ +from other quarters. One acute remark of the critic is to the effect +that Blanche Amory and Beatrix are identical--sketched from the same +original! To me they are about as identical as a weazel and a royal +tigress of Bengal; both the latter are quadrupeds,--both the former, +women. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected English Letters (XV - XIX +Centuries), by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12515 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..80c1220 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12515 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12515) diff --git a/old/12515-8.txt b/old/12515-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d00687b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12515-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13915 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Selected English Letters (XV - XIX Centuries), by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Selected English Letters (XV - XIX Centuries) + +Author: Various + +Release Date: June 4, 2004 [EBook #12515] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS *** + + + + +Produced by Dave Morgan, Bill Hershey and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS + +(XV-XIX CENTURIES) + + +ARRANGED BY + +M. DUCKITT & H. WRAGG + + +1913. + + + + +PREFACE + + +This anthology has been compiled with rather mixed motives. First, +'all for our delight'--a rule that editors sometimes observe, and +occasionally acknowledge; then, with the desire to interest as large +a section of the public as may be. Here is a medley of gay, grave, +frivolous, homely, religious, sociable, refined, philosophic, and +feminine,--something for every mood, and for the proper study +of mankind. We do not hope to satisfy all critics, but we do not +anticipate that we shall please none. Our difficulty has been that +of choice. Many pleasant companions we have had to pass by; to strike +from our list many excellent letters. Those that remain are intended +to present as complete a portrait of the writer as space permits. +Occasionally it was some feature of the age, some nicety of manners, +some contrast in point of view, that obtained inclusion. + +Into such an anthology the ordinary reader prefers to dip at random, +looking for old friends or new faces, and has his reward. But if he +is resolute to read letters in chronological order, he will also, +we hope, find in our selection some trace of the development of the +Epistolary art, as, rising through earlier naiveties and formalities +to the grace and _bel air_ of the great Augustans, it slides into the +freer, if less dignified, utterance of an age which, startled by cries +of 'Equality' at its birth, has concerned itself less with form than +with individuality and sincerity of expression. + +Three letters are included of which the originals were penned +in Latin. In a few cases the spelling and punctuation have been +modernized. + +Our best thanks are due to Mr. J.C. Smith, whose kind criticism and +inspiring suggestions have been of inestimable service to us in the +preparation of this work. + +M.D. H.W. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +SIR THOMAS MORE, 1478-1535-- +To Margaret Roper. 'Wyth a cole' from prison. + +MARGARET ROPER, 1505-1544-- +To Sir Thomas More. Reply to the above. + +ROGER ASCHAM, 1515-1568-- +To Lady Jane Grey. A most accomplished maiden. +To Lady Clarke. An offer of assistance. + +FRANCIS BACON, 1561-1626-- +To Sir Thomas Bodley. With a copy of his book. + +SIR THOMAS BROWNE, 1605-1682-- +To his son Thomas. Fatherly commendations. +To his son Edward. Centenarians. + +JOHN MILTON, 1608-1674-- +To a Cambridge friend. The choice of a profession. +To Leonard Philaras. The blind poet. + +JOHN EVELYN, 1620-1706-- +To Samuel Pepys. In retirement at Wotton. +To the same. An old man's occupations. + +DAME DOROTHY BROWNE, 1621-1685-- +To her daughter in London. Three interesting +postscripts. + +GEORGE, LORD BERKELEY, 1628-1698-- +To Samuel Pepys. Honourable acquittal. + +DOROTHY OSBORNE, 1628-1698-- +To Sir William Temple. Passing the time. +To the same. Another pretender. +To the same. A disappointing preacher. +To the same. The ideal husband. +To the same. The growth of friendship. +To the same. Wilful woman. + +KATHARINE PHILIPS, 1631-1664-- +To the Honourable Berenice. Yielding to opinion. + +JOHN LOCKE, 1632-1704-- +To William Molyneux. A philosopher's confidences. +To Dr. Molyneux. True friendship. + +SAMUEL PEPYS, 1633-1703-- +To George, Lord Berkeley. An explanation. +To Mrs. Steward. A wedding in the City. +To John Evelyn. Reply to an old friend. + +JONATHAN SWIFT, 1667-1745-- +To Stella. The Dean at home. +To Lord Treasurer Oxford. The Dean makes his bow. +To Dr. Sheridan. News from the country. +To Alexander Pope. Mostly about _Gulliver_. +To John Gay. Enquiries into Mr. Gay's pursuits. + +JOSEPH ADDISON, 1672-1719-- +To Alexander Pope. Translation of Homer. +To Mr. Secretary Craggs. A bequest. + +SIR RICHARD STEELE, 1672-1729-- +To Mary Scurlock. An explicit declaration. +To the same. A pleasing transport. +To the same. A lover betrays himself. +To his wife. He proposes an outing. +To the same. His greatest affliction. +To the same. Four characteristic notes. +To the same. The natural slave of beauty. + +JOHN GAY, 1685-1732-- +To Jonathan Swift. Concerning _Gulliver_. + +ALEXANDER POPE, 1688-1744-- +To William Wycherley. Dryden and his critics. +To Joseph Addison. A few thoughts from a rambling head. +To Jonathan Swift. Friends to posterity. +To the same. A farming friend, and _The Dunciad_. +To the same. An invitation to England. + +SAMUEL RICHARDSON, 1689-1761-- +To Miss Mulso. A discussion on love. + +LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU, 1689-1762-- +To the Countess of Mar. The Viennese court. +To Miss Sarah Chiswell. Ingrafting for small-pox. +To the Countess of Bristol. The Grand Signior a slave. +To the Countess of Mar. The Grand Vizier's lady. +To the Countess of Bute. Her grand-daughter's education. +To the same. Fielding and Steele. + +PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE, EARL OF CHESTERFIELD, 1694-1773-- +To his son. Dancing. +To the same. A good enunciation. +To the same. Keeping accounts. +To the same. A father's example. +To the same. Public speaking. +To the same. The new Earl of Chatham. + +SAMUEL JOHNSON, 1709-1784-- +To Bonnet Langton. Postponement of a visit. +To Miss Porter. A mother's death. +To Joseph Baretti. A letter of counsel. +To Mrs. Thrale. Travel in Scotland. +To the Earl of Chesterfield. Patronage. +To James Boswell. A silent friend. +To Mrs. Thrale. A great man's fortitude. + +LAURENCE STERNE, 1713-1768-- +To Miss Lumley. The disconsolate lover. +To David Garrick. Le Chevalier Shandy. +To Mr. Foley. An adventure on the road. + +THOMAS GRAY, 1716-1771-- +To Richard West. Scenery at Tivoli. +To the same. A poet's melancholy. +To Horace Walpole. The fate of Selima. +To the same. Publication of the _Elegy_. +To the same. At Burnham. +To the Rev. William Mason. The Laureateship. +To Dr. Wharton. A holiday in Kent. + +HORACE WALPOLE, 1717-1797-- +To Richard West. Floods in the Arno. +To Richard Bentley. Pictures, and Garrick. +To Lord Lyttelton. Gray's Odes. +To George Montagu. At Lady Suffolk's. +To Lady Hervey. A quiet life. +To the Rev. William Cole. Gray's death. +To the Rev. William Mason. The quarrel with Gray. +To the Countess of Upper-Ossory. Fashionable intelligence. +To the Rev. William Cole. Antiquaries and authors. +To the Miss Berrys. Their first meeting. + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 1728-1774-- +To his mother. At Cork. +To Robert Bryanton. In Scotland. +To his uncle Contarine. In Holland. +To his brother Henry. Family matters. + +WILLIAM COWPER, 1731-1800-- +To the Rev. John Newton. Escapade of Puss. +To the Rev. William Unwin. A laugh that hurts nobody. +To the Rev. John Newton. Village politicians. +To the same. Village justice. +To the same. A candidate's visit. +To Lady Hesketh. An acquaintance reopened. +To the same. The kindliness of thanks. +To the same. Arrival of the desk. +To the same. Anticipations of a visit. +To the same. Commissions and thanks. +To Mrs. Bodham. His mother's portrait. + +EDMUND BURKE, 1729-1797-- +To Matthew Smith. First impressions of London. +To James Barry. A friend's infirmities. +To Lord Auckland. An old stag at bay. +To Mary Leadbeater. His last letter. + +EDWARD GIBBON, 1737-1794-- +To Mrs. Porten. His daily life. +To Lord Sheffield. A great work. + +FRANCES D'ARBLAY, 1752-1840-- +To Susan Burney. An excited Unknown. +To Samuel Crisp. Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson. +To Mrs. Lock. A royal commission. + +GEORGE CRABBE, 1754-1832-- +To Mary Leadbeater. The only survivors. +To the same. Comparisons. + +WILLIAM BLAKE, 1757-1827-- +To John Flaxman. Friends 'from eternity'. +To Thomas Butts. Trouble in the path. +To the same. The wonderful poem. +To the same. The poet and William Hayley. + +MARY LEADBEATER, 1758-1826-- +To Edmund Burke. Reply to his last letter. +To George Crabbe. She writes to remind him. + +ROBERT BURNS, 1759-1796-- +To Miss Chalmers. Marriage with Jean. +To Mr. R. Ainslie. A gauger. +To Francis Grose. Witch tales. + +WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 1770-1850-- +To Sir George Beaumont. A brother's character. +To Walter Scott. Dryden. +To Lady Beaumont. The destiny of his poems. +To Sir George Beaumont. The language of poetry. + +SIR WALTER SCOTT, 1771-1832-- +To his mother. Marriage with Miss Carpenter. +To Miss Seward. _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_. +To Lady Louisa Stuart. An amiable blue-stocking. +To Robert Southey. Congratulations. +To J.B.S. Morritt. A small anonymous sort of a novel. +To the same. Acceptance of a baronetcy. +To Lord Montagu. Prince Leopold's visit. +To Daniel Terry. Progress at Abbotsford. +To J.B.S. Morritt. A brave face to the world. +To Maria Edgeworth. Time's revenges. + +SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, 1772-1834-- +To Charles Lamb. A sympathetic reply. +To Joseph Cottle. Literary adventurers. +To Josiah Wade. A public example. +To Thomas Allsop. Himself and his detractors. +To the same. The Great Work described. +To the same. Reminiscences. + +ROBERT SOUTHEY, 1774-1843-- +To Joseph Cottle. Question of copyrights. +To John May. Waterloo. +To Henry Taylor. Anastasius Hope. +To Edward Moxon. Recollections of the Lambs. + +CHARLES LAMB, 1775-1834-- +To Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Temporary frenzy. +To the same. A friend in need. +To the same. The tragedy. +To William Wordsworth. The delights of London. +To Thomas Manning. At the Lakes. +To the same. Dissuasion from Tartary. +To Mrs. Wordsworth. Friends' importunities. +To Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The famous pigling. +To Bernard Barton. A blessing in disguise. +To the same. A cold. + +WILLIAM HAZLITT, 1778-1830-- +To Miss Sarah Stoddart. A love-letter. +To his son. Marriage, and the choice of a profession. +To Charles Cowden Clarke. The _Life of Napoleon_. + +LEIGH HUNT, 1784-1859-- +To Joseph Severn. A belated letter. +To Percy Bysshe Shelley. Outpourings of gratitude. +To Horace Smith. Shelley's death. +To Mrs. Procter. Accepting an invitation. +To a friend. Offence and punishment. + +GEORGE GORDON NOEL, LORD BYRON, 1788-1824-- +To Mr. Hodgson. Travel in Portugal. +To Thomas Moore. Announces his engagement. +To John Murray. No bid for sweet voices. +To the same. The cemetery at Bologna. +To the same. In rebellious mood. +To Percy Bysshe Shelley. A trio of poets. +To Lady Byron. A plain statement of facts. +To Mr. Barff. Sympathy with the Greeks. + +PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, 1792-1822-- +To T.J. Hogg. His first marriage. +To William Godwin. An introduction. +To Thomas Hookham. A subscription for Hunt. +To Mr. Ollier. An article by Southey. +To Mrs. Hunt. Keats and some others. +To Leigh Hunt. A literary collaboration. + +JOHN KEATS, 1795-1821-- +To John Hamilton Reynolds. Burns's cottage. +To Richard Woodhouse. The poetic character. +To Percy Bysshe Shelley. Returning advice. +To Charles Brown. A despairing cry. + +THOMAS HOOD, 1799-1845-- +To Charles Dickens. _American Notes_. +To the _Manchester Athenaeum_. The uses of literature. +To Dr. Moir. A humourist to the last. +To Sir Robert Peel. A farewell letter. + +ROBERT BROWNING, 1812-1889, and +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING, 1806-1861-- +To Leigh Hunt. A joint epistle. + +CHARLOTTE BRONTË, 1816-1855-- +To a friend. Trials of a governess. +To William Wordsworth. Thanks for advice. +To a friend. At school abroad. +To a friend. Curates to tea. +To George Henry Lewes. Herself and Miss Austen. +To the same. The argument continued. +To a friend. Illness and death of Emily Brontë. +To Mr. G. Smith. Thackeray and _Esmond_ +To the same. _Esmond_ again. + + + + +SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS + + + + +SIR THOMAS MORE + +1478-1535 + + + +To MARGARET ROPER + +_'Wyth a cole' from prison_ + + +[1535.] + +Myne owne good doughter, our lorde be thanked I am in good helthe of +bodye, and in good quiet of minde: and of worldly thynges I no more +desyer then I have. I beseche hym make you all mery in the hope of +heaven. And such thynges as I somewhat longed to talke with you all, +concerning the worlde to come, our Lord put theim into your myndes, as +I trust he dothe, and better to, by his holy spirite: who blesse +you and preserve you all. Written wyth a cole by your tender loving +father, who in his pore prayers forgetteth none of you all, nor +your babes, nor your nurses, nor your good husbandes, nor your good +husbandes shrewde wyves, nor your fathers shrewde wyfe neither, nor +our other frendes. And thus fare ye hartely well for lack of paper. + +THOMAS MORE, knight. + +Our Lorde kepe me continuallye true, faithfull and playne, to the +contrarye whereof I beseche hym hartelye never to suffer me live. For +as for longe life (as I have often tolde the Megge) I neyther looke +for, nor long for, but am well content to goe, yf God call me hence +to morowe. And I thanke our lorde, I knowe no person living, that I +woulde had one philippe for my sake: of whiche minde I am more gladde +then of all the worlde. + +Recommend me to your shrewde wil, and mine other sonnes, and to John +Harris my frende, and your selfe knoweth to whome els, and to my +shrewde wife above all, and God preserve you all and make and kepe you +his servantes all. + + + + +MARGARET ROPER + +1505-1544 + + + +TO SIR THOMAS MORE + +_Reply to the above_ + + +[1534.] + +Myne owne moste entierelye beloved father, I thynke my self never +hable to geve you sufficiente thankes, for the inestimable coumforte +my poore hearte received in the readyng of youre moste lovynge and +godlye letter, representing to me, the cleare shynyng bryghtenesse +of youre soule, the pure temple of the holy spirite of God, which I +doubte not shall perpetuallye reste in you and you in hym. Father, if +all the worlde hadde bene geven to me, as I be saved it hadde bene +a small pleasure, in comparison of the pleasure I conceived of the +treasure of youre letter, whiche thoughe it were written with a cole, +is woorthye in myne opinion to be wrytten in letters of golde. Father, +what moved them to shytte you uppe againe, we can nothynge heare. +But surelye I coniecture that when they considered that you wer of so +temperate mind, that you were contented to abyde there all your lyfe +with suche libertie, they thought it wer never possible to enclyne you +to theyr will, excepte it were by restrayning you from the church, and +the companye of my good mother youre deare wyfe and us youre chyldren +and bedesfolke. But father this chaunce was not straunge to you. For +I shal not forgeat howe you tolde us when we were with you in the +gardeyne, that these thinges wer like ynoughe to chaunce you shortlye +after. Father I have manye tymes rehearsed to myne owne coumfort and +dyvers others, your fashyon and wordes ye hadde to us when we were +laste with you: for which I trust by the grace of god to be the better +while I live, and when I am departed oute of this frayle life, which +I praye God I maye passe and ende in his true obedient service, after +the wholesome counsayle and fruitful exaumple of living I have had +(good father) of you, whom I pray god geve me grace to folowe: which +I shal the better thorow the assistaunce of your devoute prayers, +the speciall staye of my frayltie. Father I am sory I have no lenger +laysure at this time to talke with you, the chief comfort of my life, +I trust to have occasion to write again shortly. I trust I have your +daily prayer and blessing. + +Your most loving obedient daughter and bedeswoma Margaret Roper, which +daily and howrely is boude to pray for you, for whom she prayeth +in this wise, that our lord of his infinite mercye geve you of hys +hevenly comfort, and so to assist you with hys speciall grace, that ye +never in any thing declyne from hys blessed will, but live and dye his +true obedient servaunt. Amen. + + + + +ROGER ASCHAM + +1515-1568 + + + +To Lady Jane Grey + +_A most accomplished maiden_ + + +Augsberg, 18 _Jan_. 1551. + +Most Illustrious Lady, + +In this long travel of mine, I have passed over wide tracts of +country, and seen the largest cities, I have studied the customs, +institutes, laws, and religion of many men and diverse nations, with +as much diligence as I was able: but in all this variety of subjects, +nothing has caused in me so much wonder as my having fallen upon you +last summer, a maiden of noble birth, and that too in the absence of +your tutor, in the hall of your most noble family, and at a time +when others, both men and women, give themselves up to hunting and +pleasures, you, a divine maiden, reading carefully in Greek the +_Phaedo_ of the divine Plato; and happier in being so occupied than +because you derive your birth, both on your father's side, and on your +mother's, from kings and queens! Go on then, most accomplished maiden, +to bring honour on your country, happiness on your parents, glory to +yourself, credit to your tutor, congratulation to all your friends, +and the greatest admiration to all strangers! + +O happy Elmar in having such a pupil, and happier still you, in having +such a tutor ... I ask two things of you, my dear Elmar, for I suppose +you will read this letter, that you will persuade the Lady Jane to +write me a letter in Greek as soon as possible; for she promised she +would do so ... I have also lately written to John Sturm, and told him +that she had promised. Take care that I get a letter soon from her as +well as from you. It is a long way for letters to come, but John Hales +will be a most convenient letter-carrier and bring them safely.... + + + +To LADY CLARKE + +_An offer of assistance_ + + +[London], 15 _Jan_. 1554. + +Your remarkable love of virtue and zeal for learning, most illustrious +lady, joined with such talents and perseverance, are worthy of great +praise in themselves, and greater still because you are a woman, but +greatest of all because you are a lady of the court; where there are +many other occupations for ladies, besides learning, and many other +pleasures besides the practice of the virtues. This double praise +is further enhanced by the two patterns that you have proposed to +yourself to follow, the one furnished you by the court, the other +by your family. I mean our illustrious queen Mary, and your noble +grandfather, Thomas More--a man whose virtues go to raise England +above all other nations.... + +I am led to write thus not altogether by my admiration of you, but +partly by my own wish and more from the nature of my own office. It +was I who was invited some years ago from the University of Cambridge +by your mother, Margaret Roper--a lady worthy of her great father, +and of you her daughter--to the house of your kinsman, Lord Giles +Alington, to teach you and her other children the Greek and Latin +tongues; but at that time no offers could induce me to leave the +University. It is sweet to me to bear in mind this request of your +mother's, and I now not only remind you thereof, but would offer you, +now that I am at court, if not to fulfil her wishes, yet to do my +best to fulfil them, were it not that you have so much learning +in yourself, and also the aid of those two learned men, Cole and +Christopherson, so that you need no help from me, unless in their +absence you make use of my assistance, and if you like, abuse it. + +I write thus not because of any talents I possess (for I know they are +very small) but because of my will (which I know is very great), and +because of the opportunity long wished for and now granted me. For +by favour of that great bishop the Lord Stephen of Winchester, I have +been fetched away from the University to serve our illustrious queen +at court, and that too in such a post, that I can there follow the +same mode of life for the discharge of my duties as I did at the +University for study. My office is to write Latin letters for the +queen, and I hope I shall fulfil that office, if not with ability, +yet faithfully, diligently, and unblameably ... Farewell, most +accomplished lady! + + + + +SIR FRANCIS BACON + +1561-1626 + + + +To Sir Thomas Bodley + +_With a copy of his book_ + + +[_Nov_. 1605.] + +SIR, + +I think no man may more truly say with the Psalm _Multum incola +fuit anima mea_, than myself. For I do confess, since I was of any +understanding, my mind hath in effect been absent from that I have +done; and in absence are many errors which I do willingly acknowledge; +and amongst the rest this great one that led the rest; that knowing +myself by inward calling to be fitter to hold a book than to play a +part, I have led my life in civil causes; for which I was not very fit +by nature, and more unfit by the preoccupation of my mind. Therefore +calling myself home, I have now for a time enjoyed myself; whereof +likewise I desire to make the world partaker. My labours (if I may so +term that which was the comfort of my other labours) I have dedicated +to the King; desirous, if there be any good in them, it may be as the +fat of a sacrifice, incensed to his honour: and the second copy I have +sent unto you, not only in good affection, but in a kind of congruity, +in regard of your great and rare desert of learning. For books are the +shrines where the saint is, or is believed to be; and you having built +an Ark to save learning from deluge, deserve propriety in any new +instrument or engine, whereby learning should be improved or advanced. + + + + +SIR THOMAS BROWNE + +1605-1682 + + + +To HIS SON THOMAS + +_Fatherly commendations_ + + +[c. 1667.] + +I Receaved yours, and would not deferre to send vnto you before you +sayled, which I hope will come vnto you; for in this wind, neither can +Reare-admirall Kempthorne come to you, nor you beginne your voyage. +I am glad you like Lucan so well. I wish more military men could read +him; in this passage you mention, there are noble straynes; and such +as may well affect generous minds. Butt I hope you are more taken with +the verses then the subject, and rather embrace the expression then +the example. And this I the rather hint unto you, because the like, +though in another waye, is sometimes practised in the king's shipps, +when, in desperate cases, they blowe up the same. For though I know +you are sober and considerative, yet knowing you also to be of great +resolution; and having also heard from ocular testimonies with what +vndaunted and persevering courage you have demeaned yourself in great +difficulties; and knowing your captaine to bee a stout and resolute +man; and with all the cordiall friendshippe that is between you; I +cannot omitt my earnest prayers vnto God to deliver you from such a +temptation. Hee that goes to warre must patiently submitt vnto the +various accidents thereof. To bee made prisoner by an vnequall and +overruling power, after a due resistance, is no disparagement; butt +upon a carelesse surprizall or faynt opposition; and you have so good +a memorie that you cannot forgett many examples thereof, even of the +worthiest commanders in your beloved Plutark. God hath given you a +stout, butt a generous and mercifull heart withall; and in all your +life you could never behold any person in miserie butt with compassion +and relief; which hath been notable in you from a child: so have you +layd up a good foundation for God's mercy; and, if such a disaster +should happen, Hee will, without doubt, mercifully remember you. How +euer, let God that brought you in the world in his owne good time, +lead you through it; and in his owne season bring you out of it; and +without such wayes as are displeasing vnto him. When you are at Cales, +see if you can get a box of the Jesuits' powder at easier rate, and +bring it in the bark, not in powder. I am glad you haue receaued the +bill of exchange for Cales; if you should find occasion to make vse +thereof. Enquire farther at Tangier of the minerall water you told +mee, which was neere the towne, and whereof many made use. Take notice +of such plants as you meet with, either upon the Spanish or African +coast; and if you knowe them not, putt some leaves into a booke, +though carelessely, and not with that neatenesse as in your booke at +Norwich. Enquire after any one who hath been at Fez; and learne what +you can of the present state of that place, which hath been so famous +in the description of Leo and others. The mercifull providence of God +go with you. _Impellant animae lintea Thraciae_. + + + +TO HIS SON EDWARD + +_Centenarians_ + + +15 _Dec_. [1679.] + +DEARE SONNE, + +Some thinck that great age superannuates persons from the vse of +physicall meanes, or that at a hundred yeares of age 'tis either a +folly or a shame to vse meanes to liue longer, and yet I haue knowne +many send to mee for their seuerall troubles at a hundred yeares of +age, and this day a poore woeman being a hundred and three yeares +and a weeke old sent to mee to giue her some ease of the colick. The +_macrobii_ and long liuers which I haue knowne heere haue been of +the meaner and poorer sort of people. Tho. Parrot was butt a meane or +rather poore man. Your brother Thomas gaue two pence a weeke to John +More, a scauenger, who dyed in the hundred and second yeare of his +life; and 'twas taken the more notice of that the father of Sir John +Shawe, who marryed my Lady Killmorey, and liueth in London, I say that +his father, who had been a vintner, liued a hundred and two yeares, or +neere it, and dyed about a yeere agoe. God send us to number our dayes +and fitt ourselves for a better world. + + + + +JOHN MILTON + +1608-1674 + + + +TO A CAMBRIDGE FRIEND + +_The choice of a profession_ + + +[1631-2.] + +SIR, + +Besides that in sundry other respects I must acknowledge me to profit +by you whenever we meet, you are often to me, and were yesterday +especially, as a good watchman to admonish that the hours of the night +pass on (for so I call my life, as yet obscure and unserviceable to +mankind), and that the day with me is at hand, wherein Christ commands +all to labour, while there is light. Which because I am persuaded you +do to no other purpose than out of a true desire that God should be +honoured in every one, I therefore think myself bound, though unasked, +to give you account, as oft as occasion is, of this my tardy moving, +according to the precept of my conscience, which I firmly trust is not +without God. Yet now I will not strain for any set apology, but only +refer myself to what my mind shall have at any time to declare herself +at her best ease. + +But if you think, as you said, that too much love of learning is in +fault, and that I have given up myself to dream away my years in the +arms of studious retirement, like Endymion with the moon, as the tale +of Latmus goes; yet consider that if it were no more but the mere +love of learning--whether it proceed from a principle bad, good, +or natural--it could not have held out thus long against so strong +opposition on the other side of every kind. For, if it be bad, why +should not all the fond hopes that forward youth and vanity are fledge +with, together with gain, pride, and ambition, call me forward more +powerfully than a poor, regardless, and unprofitable sin of curiosity +should be able to withhold me; whereby a man cuts himself off from all +action, and becomes the most helpless, pusillanimous, and unweaponed +creature in the world, the most unfit and unable to do that which +all mortals most aspire to--either to be useful to his friends or to +offend his enemies? Or, if it be to be thought a natural proneness, +there is against that a much more potent inclination inbred, which +about this time of a man's life solicits most--the desire of house and +family of his own; to which nothing is esteemed more helpful than the +early entering into credible employment, and nothing more hindering +than this affected solitariness. And though this were enough, yet +there is to this another act, if not of pure, yet of refined nature, +no less available to dissuade prolonged obscurity--a desire of honour +and repute and immortal fame, seated in the breast of every true +scholar; which all make haste to by the readiest ways of publishing +and divulging conceived merits--as well those that shall, as those +that never shall, obtain it. Nature, therefore, would presently work +the more prevalent way, if there were nothing but this inferior bent +of herself to restrain her. Lastly, the love of learning, as it is the +pursuit of something good, it would sooner follow the more excellent +and supreme good known and presented, and so be quickly diverted from +the empty and fantastic chase of shadows and notions, to the solid +good flowing from due and timely obedience to that command in the +Gospel set out by the terrible seasing of him that hid the talent. + +It is more probable, therefore, that not the endless delight of +speculation, but this very consideration of that great commandment, +does not press forward, as soon as many do, to undergo, but keeps +off, with a sacred reverence and religious advisement how _best_ to +undergo--not taking thought of being _late_, so it give advantage +to be more _fit_; for those that were latest lost nothing, when the +master of the vineyard came to give each one his hire. And here I am +come to a stream-head, copious enough to disburden itself, like Nilus, +at seven mouths into an ocean. But then I should also run into a +reciprocal contradiction of ebbing and flowing at once, and do that +which I excuse myself for not doing--'preach and not preach.' Yet, +that you may see that I am something suspicious of myself, and do take +notice of a certain belatedness in me, I am the bolder to send you +some of my nightward thoughts some while since, because they come in +not altogether unfitly, made up in a Petrarchian stanza, which I told +you of: + + How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, + Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year! + My hasting days fly on with full career, + But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. + Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth + That I to manhood am arrived so near; + And inward ripeness doth much less appear + That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th. + Yet be it less, or more, or soon, or slow, + It shall be still in strictest measure even + To that same lot, however mean or high, + Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven. + All is, if I have grace to use it so, + As ever in my great taskmaster's eye. + +By this I believe you may well repent of having made mention at all of +this matter; for, if I have not all this while won you to this, I +have certainly wearied you of it. This, therefore, alone may be a +sufficient reason for me to keep me as I am, lest having thus tired +you singly, I should deal worse with, a whole congregation, and spoil +all the patience of a parish; for I myself do not only see my own +tediousness, but now grow offended with it, that has hindered me thus +long from coming to the last and best _period_ of my letter, and +that which must now chiefly work my pardon, that I am your true and +unfeigned _friend_. + + + +TO LEONARD PHILARAS, THE ATHENIAN + +_The blind poet_[1] + + +Westminster, 28 _Sept_. 1654. + +I have always been devotedly attached to the literature of Greece, and +particularly to that of your Athens; and have never ceased to cherish +the persuasion that that city would one day make me ample recompense +for the warmth of my regard. The ancient genius of your renowned +country has favoured the completion of my prophecy in presenting me +with your friendship and esteem. Though I was known to you only by my +writings, and we were removed to such a distance from each other, you +most courteously addressed me by letter; and when you unexpectedly +came to London, and saw me who could no longer see, my affliction, +which causes none to regard me with greater admiration, and perhaps +many even with feelings of contempt, excited your tenderest sympathy +and concern. You would not suffer me to abandon the hope of recovering +my sight; and informed me you had an intimate friend at Paris, Dr. +Thevenot, who was particularly celebrated in disorders of the eyes, +whom you would consult about mine, if I would enable you to lay before +him the causes and the symptoms of the complaint. I will do what you +desire, lest I should seem to reject that aid which perhaps may be +offered me by Heaven. It is now, I think, about ten years since I +perceived my vision to grow weak and dull; and at the same time I +was troubled with pain in my kidneys and bowels, accompanied with +flatulency. In the morning, if I began to read, as was my custom, +my eyes instantly ached intensely, but were refreshed after a little +corporeal exercise. The candle which I looked at, seemed as it were +encircled with a rainbow. Not long after the sight in the left part of +the left eye (which I lost some years before the other) became quite +obscured, and prevented me from discerning any object on that +side. The sight in my other eye has now been gradually and sensibly +vanishing away for about three years; some months before it had +entirely perished, though I stood motionless, everything which I +looked at seemed in motion to and fro. A stiff cloudy vapour seemed +to have settled on my forehead and temples, which usually occasions a +sort of somnolent pressure upon my eyes, and particularly from dinner +till the evening. So that I often recollect what is said of the poet +Phineas in the _Argonautics_: + + A stupor deep his cloudy temples bound, + And when he walked he seemed as whirling round, + Or in a feeble trance he speechless lay. + +I ought not to omit that while I had any sight left, as soon as I lay +down on my bed and turned on either side, a flood of light used to +gush from my closed eyelids. Then, as my sight became daily more +impaired, the colours became more faint and were emitted with a +certain inward crackling sound; but at present, every species of +illumination being, as it were, extinguished, there is diffused around +me nothing but darkness, or darkness mingled and streaked with an +ashy brown. Yet the darkness in which I am perpetually immersed seems +always, both by night and day, to approach nearer to white than black; +and when the eye is rolling in its socket, it admits a little particle +of light, as through a chink. And though your physician may kindle +a small ray of hope, yet I make up my mind to the malady as quite +incurable; and I often reflect, that as the wise man admonishes, +days of darkness are destined to each of us, the darkness which I +experience, less oppressive than that of the tomb, is, owing to the +singular goodness of the Deity, passed amid the pursuits of literature +and the cheering salutations of friendship. But if, as is written, +'Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth +from the mouth of God,' why may not any one acquiesce in the privation +of his sight, when God has so amply furnished his mind and his +conscience with eyes? While He so tenderly provides for me, while +He so graciously leads me by the hand, and conducts me on the way, I +will, since it is His pleasure, rather rejoice than repine at being +blind. And, my dear Philaras, whatever may be the event, I wish you +adieu with no less courage and composure than if I had the eyes of a +lynx. + +[Footnote 1: From the Latin.] + + + + +JOHN EVELYN + +1620-1706 + + + +To SAMUEL PEPYS + +_In retirement at Wotton_ + + +Wotton, 2 _Aug_. 1692. + +I have been philosophizing and world-despising in the solitudes of +this place, whither I am retired to pass and mourn the absence of my +worthiest friend. Here is wood and water, meadows and mountains, the +Dryads and Hamadryads; but here's no Mr. Pepys, no Dr. Gale. Nothing +of all the cheer in the parlour that I taste; all's insipid, and all +will be so to me, till I see and enjoy you again. I long to know what +you do, and what you think, because I am certain you do both what +is worthy the knowing and imitation. On Monday next will Mr. Bentley +resume his lecture, I think, at Bow Church: I fear I shall hardly +get through this wilderness by that time. Pray give him your wonted +confidence if you can, and tell him how unhappily I am entangled. I +hope, however, to get home within this fortnight, and about the end of +October to my hyemation in Dover Street. My son is gone with the Lord +Lieutenant, and our new relation, Sir Cyril Wych, into Ireland: I look +they should return wondrous statesmen, or else they had as well have +stayed at home. I am here with Boccalini, and Erasmus's _Praise of +Folly_, and look down upon the world with wondrous contempt, when +I consider for what we keep such a mighty bustle. _O fortunate_ Mr. +Pepys! who knows, possesses, and enjoys all that's worth the seeking +after. Let me live among your inclinations, and I shall be happy. + + + +To THE SAME + +_An old man's occupations_ + + +Wotton, 22 _July_, 1700. + +I could no longer suffer this old servant of mine to pass and repass +so near Clapham without a particular account of your health and all +your happy family. You will now inquire what I do here? Why, as the +patriarchs of old, I pass the days in the fields, among horses and +oxen, sheep, cows, bulls, and sows, _et cetera pecora campi_. We have, +thank God! finished our hay harvest prosperously. I am looking after +my hinds, providing carriage and tackle against reaping time and +sowing. What shall I say more? _Venio ad voluptates agricolarum_, +which Cicero, you know, reckons amongst the most becoming diversions +of old age; and so I render it. This without: now within doors, never +was any matron more busy than my wife, disposing of our plain +country furniture for a naked old extravagant house, suitable to +our employments. She has a dairy, and distaffs, for _lac, linum, et +lanam_, and is become a very Sabine. But can you thus hold out? Will +my friend say; is philosophy, Gresham College, and the example of Mr. +Pepys, and agreeable conversation of York Buildings, quite forgotten +and abandoned? No, no! _Naturam expellas furca tamen usque recurret_. +Know I have been ranging of no fewer than thirty large cases of books, +destined for a competent standing library, during four or five days +wholly destitute of my young coadjutor, who, upon some pretence of +being much engaged in the mathematics, and desiring he may continue +his course at Oxford till the beginning of August, I have wholly left +it to him. You will now suspect something by this disordered hand; +truly I was too happy in these little domestic affairs, when, on the +sudden, as I was about my books in the library, I found myself sorely +attacked with a shivering, followed by a feverish indisposition, and +a strangury, so as to have kept, not my chamber only, but my bed, till +very lately, and with just so much strength as to scribble these lines +to you. For the rest, I give God thanks for this gracious warning, my +great age calling upon me _sarcinam componere_ every day expecting it, +who have still enjoyed a wonderful course of bodily health for forty +years.... + + + + +DAME DOROTHY BROWNE + +1621-1685 + + + +TO HER DAUGHTER IN LONDON + +_Three interesting postscripts_ + + +[Norfolk, 28 _June, c_. 1679.] + +DEARE DAUGHTER, + +I have received all the things, to the great content of the owners, +who returne you many thankes. Thay ar indeed very well chose things of +all sorts: and I give you many thanks for the troble you have had with +them: I sent you Tomey's scurt and long slevs of his ould cott; I hope +you have them. On Mr. Felden it seemes took it last Wadinsday, and +sayd hee would deliver it him selfe. Wee dayly wish for the new +cloths; all our linen being worne out but shefts, and Tomey would give +all his stock to see his briches. I bless God wee ar all well as +I hope you ar. Tomey presents his dutty, your sisters all love and +services. + + +[4 _July_.] + +GOOD DAUGHTER, + +I must troble you once more abought my cosen Tenoson. She would +macke a manto gown of the grene and whight silke you sent down for a +peticot, but she wants two yards, and as much slit grene sarsinat as +will line it in sight. I pray send nurs to gett it and lett mee +know what it com to, and I will send you the mony. I sayes my Cossen +Cradock might send it me by the choch for she would have it as sonne +as possible. I bless God wee ar all in helth, and Tomey much longing +for his briches. + + +[5 _July_.] + +Tomey have received his cloues, and is much delighted, and sends you +and his mother and grandmother dutty and thanckes, and meanes to war +them carfully. + + + + +GEORGE, LORD BERKELEY + +1628-1698 + + + +To SAMUEL PEPYS[1] + +_Honourable Acquittal_ + + +Berkeley House, 23 _Feb_. 1677-8. + +GOOD MR. PEPYS, + +Though I thank you for the favour of your letter, yet I confess myself +both much surprised and troubled to receive a letter from you upon +such an occasion: so is my wife, who professes herself wholly innocent +of any crime of charging you in thought, word, or deed, and hopes you +will do her that right to believe so of her. My daughter Berkeley says +she expressed some trouble that the friend she recommended had not +success, and that she was told the Commissioners of the Navy did +report they had given the same recommendations of the person she +proposed, as they did of him that was accepted, for the lieutenant's +place; which my daughter, supposing to be true, wondered the more he +lost the preferment: but, by the copies enclosed in your's, it appears +her Ladyship was very much misinformed. As for Mrs. Henrietta, she +is extremely troubled in saying any thing that gave you offence; and +though she did not in the least intend it, yet she begs your pardon. +And now, my good friend, though I am not under any accusation, and +therefore need not say any thing to vindicate myself, yet give me +leave, upon this occasion, to assure you, that there is no person +has a better opinion of you than myself, nor is more sensible of your +particular civilities to me; which I should be very glad to make a +return of when in my power to serve you: and give me leave to add +further, without flattery to you, and with great sincerity, that I +believe our gracious master, His Majesty, is so fortunate in employing +you in his service, that, if he should lose you, it would be very +difficult for His Majesty to find a successor so well qualified in +all respects for his service, if we consider both your integrity, vast +abilities, industry, and zealous affections for his service; and, +if His Majesty were asked the question, I will hold ten to one His +Majesty declares himself of my opinion; so will I believe all that +know you, more especially our fellow-traders that are so conversant +with you and obliged by you. + +This is asserted as a great truth by, Sir, your very affectionate and +hearty friend and Servant. + +[Footnote 1: Cf. Letter on p. 45.] + + + + +DOROTHY OSBORNE + +1628-1698 + + + +To SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE + +_Passing the time_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +I have been reckoning up how many faults you lay to my charge in your +last letter, and I find I am severe, unjust, unmerciful, and unkind! +O me! how should one do to mend all those! 'Tis work for an age, and +I fear that I shall be so old before I am good, that 'twill not be +considerable to any body but myself whether I am so or not.... You ask +me how I pass my time here. I can give you a perfect account, not only +of what I do for the present, but what I am likely to do this seven +years if I stay here so long. I rise in the morning reasonably early, +and before I am ready I go round the house till I am weary of that, +and then into the garden till it grows too hot for me. I then think of +making me ready; and when that's done I go into my father's chamber; +from thence to dinner, where my cousin Molle and I sit in great state +in a room and at a table that would hold a great many more. After +dinner we sit and talk till Mr. P. comes in question, and then I am +gone. The heat of the day is spent in reading or working; and about +six or seven o'clock I walk out into a common that lies hard by the +house, where a great many young wenches keep sheep and cows, and +sit in the shade singing of ballads; I go to them, and compare their +voices and beauty to some ancient shepherdesses that I have read of, +and find a vast difference there; but, trust me, I think these are +as innocent as those could be. I talk to them, and find _they +want nothing to make them the happiest people in the world but the +knowledge that they are so_. Most commonly, while we are in the middle +of our discourse, one looks about her, and spies her cows going into +the corn, and then away they all run as if they had wings at their +heels. I that am not so nimble stay behind, and when I see them +driving home their cattle think it is time for me to return too. When +I have supped I go into the garden, and so to the side of a small +river that runs by it, where I sit down and wish you with me (you +had best say this is not kind, neither). In earnest, it is a pleasant +place, and would be more so to me if I had your company, as I sit +there sometimes till I am lost with thinking; and were it not for some +cruel thoughts of the crossness of my fortune, that will not let me +sleep there, I should forget there were such a thing to be done as +going to bed. Since I writ this, my company is increased by two, my +brother Harry, and a fair niece, my brother Peyton's daughter. She is +so much a woman that I am almost ashamed to say I am her aunt, and so +pretty, that if I had any design to gain a servant I should not like +her company; but I have none, and therefore I shall endeavour to keep +her here as long as I can persuade her father to spare her, for she +will easily consent to it, having so much of my humour (though it +be the worst thing in her) as to like a melancholy place, and little +company.... My father is reasonably well, but keeps his chamber still; +but will hardly, I am afraid, ever be so perfectly recovered as to +come abroad again. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Another pretender_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +I could tell you such a story (it is too long to be written), as would +make you see what I never discovered in my life before, that I am +a valiant lady. In earnest, we have had such a skirmish and upon so +foolish an occasion, as I cannot tell which is strangest. The Emperor +and his proposals began it; I talked merrily on it till I saw my +brother put on his sober face, and could hardly then believe he was +in earnest. It seems he was; for when I had spoke freely my meaning it +wrought so with him, as to fetch up all that lay upon his stomach: all +the people that I had ever in my life refused were brought again upon +the stage, like Richard the Third's ghosts, to reproach me withal, and +all the kindness his discoveries could make I had for you was laid to +my charge; my best qualities, if I have any that are good, served +but for aggravations of my fault, and I was allowed to have wit, and +understanding, and discretion, in all other things, that it might +appear I had none in this. Well, 'twas a pretty lecture, and I grew +warm with it after a while. In short, we came so near to an absolute +falling out that 'twas time to give over, and we said so much then +that we have hardly spoken a word together since. But 'tis wonderful +to see what courtesies and legs pass between us, and as before we were +thought the kindest brother and sister, we are certainly now the most +complimental couple in England: it is a strange change, and I am very +sorry for it, but I'll swear I know not how to help it.... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A disappointing preacher_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +... God forgive me, I was as near laughing yesterday where I should +not: would you believe that I had the grace to go to hear a sermon +upon a week-day? In earnest, 'tis true, and Mr. Marshall was the man +that preached, but never any body was so defeated. He is so famed that +I expected rare things from him, and seriously I listened to him at +first with as much reverence and attention as if he had been St. Paul. +And what do you think he told us? why, that if there were no kings, no +queens, no lords, no ladies, no gentlemen or gentlewomen in the world, +it would be no loss at all to God Almighty: this he said over some +forty times, which made me remember it, whether I would or not. +The rest was much at this rate, entertained with the prettiest odd +phrases, that I had the most ado to look soberly enough for the place +I was in that ever I had in my life. He does not preach so always, +sure; if he does, I cannot believe his sermons will do much towards +the bringing anybody to heaven more than by exercising their patience; +yet I'll say that for him, he stood stoutly for tithes, though in +my opinion few deserve them less than he, and it may be he would be +better without them. Yet you say you are not convinced that to be +miserable is the way to be good; to some natures I think it is not; +but there are many of so careless and vain a temper that the least +breath of good fortune swells them with so much pride, that if they +were not put in mind sometimes by a sound cross or two that they are +mortal, they would hardly think it possible; and though it is a sign +of a servile nature, when fear produces more of reverence in us +than love, yet there is more danger of forgetting one's self in a +prosperous fortune than in the contrary; and affliction may be the +surest though not the pleasantest guide to heaven. What think you, +might I not preach with Mr. Marshall for a wager?... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The ideal husband_ + + +[No date; _c_. 1653.] + +There are a great many ingredients must go to the making me happy in +a husband. My cousin F. says our humours must agree, and to do that he +must have that kind of breeding that I have had, and used to that kind +of company; that is, he must not be so much a country gentleman as to +understand nothing but hawks and dogs, and be fonder of either than of +his wife; nor of the next sort of them, whose time reaches no farther +than to be justice of peace, and once in his life high sheriff, who +reads no book but statutes, and studies nothing but how to make a +speech interlarded with Latin, that may amaze his disagreeing poor +neighbours, and fright them rather than persuade them into quietness. +He must not be a thing that began the world in a free school, was sent +from thence to the university, and is at his farthest when he reaches +the inns of court; has no acquaintance but those of his form in those +places; speaks the French he has picked out of old laws, and admires +nothing but the stories he has heard of the revels that were kept +there before his time. He must not be a town gallant neither, that +lives in a tavern and an ordinary; that cannot imagine how an hour +should be spent without company unless it be in sleeping; that makes +court to all the women he sees, thinks they believe him, and laughs +and is laughed at equally. Nor a travelled Monsieur, whose head is +feathered inside and outside, that can talk of nothing but of dances +and duels, and has courage enough to wear slashes, when every body +else dies with cold to see him. He must not be a fool of no sort, nor +peevish, nor ill-natured, nor proud, nor courteous; and to all this +must be added, that he must love me, and I him, as much as we are +capable of loving. Without all this his fortune, though never so +great, would not satisfy me, and with it a very moderate one would +keep me from ever repenting my disposal.... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The growth of friendship_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + + +... I must find you pleased and in good humour; merry as you were +wont to be, when we first met, if you will not have me show that I am +nothing akin to my cousin Osborne's lady. But what an age it is since +we first met, and how great a change it has wrought in both of us! +if there had been as great a one on my face, it would be either very +handsome or very ugly. For God's sake, when we meet, let us design one +day to remember old stories in, to ask one another by what degrees +our friendship grew to this height 'tis at. In earnest, I am lost +sometimes in thinking of it, and though I can never repent of the +share you have in my heart, I know not whether I gave it you willingly +or not at first. No; to speak ingenuously, I think you got an interest +there a good while before I thought you had any, and it grew so +insensibly and yet so fast, that all the traverses it has met with +since have served rather to discover it to me than at all to hinder +it. + + + +TO THE SAME. + +_Wilful woman_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +I was carried yesterday abroad to a dinner that was designed for +mirth, but it seems one ill-humoured person in the company is enough +to put all the rest out of tune, for I never saw people perform what +they intended worse, and could not forbear telling them so; but to +excuse themselves and silence my reproaches they all agreed to say +that I spoiled their jollity by wearing the most unseasonable looks +that could be put on for such an occasion. I told them I knew no +remedy but leaving me behind them; that my looks were suitable to +my fortune though not to a feast. Fie, I am got into my complaining +humour that tires myself as well as every body else, and which (as you +observe) helps not at all; would it would leave me and that I should +not always have occasion for it, but that's in nobody's power, and my +Lady Talmash, that says she can do whatever she will, cannot believe +whatsoever she pleases. 'Tis not unpleasant, methinks, to hear her +talk how at such a time she was sick, and the physicians told her she +would have the small-pox and showed her where they were coming out +upon her, but she bethought herself that it was not at all convenient +for her to have them at that time; some business she had that required +her going abroad, and so she resolved she would not be sick nor was +not. Twenty such stories as these she tells, and then falls into +discourses of the strength of reason and power of philosophy till she +confounds herself and all that hear her. You have no such ladies in +Ireland.... My poor Lady Vavasor is carried to the Tower, and her +situation could not excuse her, because she was acquainted by somebody +that there was a plot against the Protector, and did not discover it. +She has told now all that was told her, but vows she will never say +from whence she had it; we shall see whether her resolutions are as +unalterable as those of my Lady Talmash. I wonder how she behaved +herself when she was married; I never yet saw anybody that did not +look simply and out of countenance, nor ever knew a wedding well +designed but one, and that was of two persons who had time enough I +confess to contrive it, and nobody to please in it but themselves. He +came down into the country where she was upon a visit, and one morning +married her; as soon as they came out of the church, they took coach +and came for the town, dined at an Inn by the way, and at night came +into lodgings that were provided for them, where nobody knew them, +and where they passed for married people of seven years' standing. The +truth is I could not endure to be Mrs. Bride in a public wedding, to +be made the happiest person on earth; do not take it ill, for I would +endure it if I could, rather than fail, but in earnest I do not think +it were possible for me; you cannot apprehend the formalities of a +treaty more than I do, nor so much the success of it. Yet in earnest +your father will not find my brother Peyton wanting in civility +(though he is not a man of much compliment unless it be in his letters +to me), nor an unreasonable person in any thing so he will allow him, +out of his kindness to his wife, to set a higher value upon his +sister than she deserves. I know not how he may be prejudiced upon the +business, but he is not deaf to reason when it is civilly delivered, +and is as easily gained with compliance and good usage as any body +I know, but no other way; when he is roughly used he is like me ten +times the worse for it. I make it a case of conscience to discover my +faults to you as fast as I know them, that you may consider what you +have to do: my aunt told me no longer ago than yesterday, that I was +the most wilful woman that ever she knew, and had an obstinacy of +spirit nothing could overcome. Take heed, you see I give you fair +warning. I have missed a letter this Monday, what is the reason? +By the next I shall be gone into Kent, and my other journey is laid +aside, which I am not displeased at, because it would have broken our +intercourse very much. Here are some verses of Cowley's; pray tell me +how you like them. It is only a piece taken out of a new thing of +his. The whole is very long, and is a description of, or rather a +paraphrase upon, the friendships of David and Jonathan. 'Tis I think +the best I have seen of his, and I like the subject because it is that +I would be perfect in. Adieu! + + + + +KATHARINE PHILIPS + +1631-1664 + + + +ORINDA TO THE HONOURABLE BERENICE + +_Yielding to opinion_ + + +Priory of Cardigan, _25 June_ + +Your Ladyship's last favour from Coll. P----'s was truly obliging, +and carried so much of the same great soul of yours, which loves to +diffuse itself in expressions of friendship to me, that it merits +a great deal more acknowledgement than I am able to pay at my best +condition, and am less now when my head aches, and will give me no +leave to enlarge, though I have so much subject and reason; but really +if my heart ached too, I could be sensible of a very great kindness +and condescension in thinking me worthy of your concern, though +I visibly perceive most of my letters have lost their way to your +Ladyship. I beseech you be pleased first to believe I have written +every post; but, secondly, since I came, and then to enquire for them, +that they may be commended into your hands, where alone they can hope +for a favourable residence; I am very much a sharer by sympathy, in +your Ladyship's satisfaction in the converse you had in the country, +and find that to that ingenious company Fortune hath been just, there +being no person fitter to receive all the admiration of persons best +capable to pay them, than the great _Berenice_.... + +And now (madam) why was that a cruel question, When will you come to +_Wales_? 'Tis cruel to me, I confess, that it is yet in question, but +I humbly beg your Ladyship to unriddle that part of your letter, for +I cannot understand why you, madam, who have no persons alive to whom +your birth hath submitted you, and have already by your life secured +to yourself the best opinion the world can give you, should create an +awe upon your own actions, from imaginary inconveniences: Happiness, +I confess, is two-faced, and one is opinion; but that opinion is +certainly _our own_; for it were equally ridiculous and impossible +to shape our _actions_ by others' _opinions_. I have had so much (and +some sad) reason to discuss this principle, that I can speak with some +confidence, That _none will ever be happy, who make their happiness to +consist in, or be governed by the votes of other persons._ I deny +not but the approbation of wise and good persons is a very necessary +satisfaction; but to forbear innocent contentments, only because it's +possible some fancies may be so capricious as to dispute whether I +should have taken them, is, in my belief, neither better nor worse +than to fast always, because there are some so superstitious in the +world, that will abstain from meat, upon some score or other, upon +every day in the year, that is, some upon some days, and others +upon others, and some upon all. You know, madam, there is nothing so +various as _vulgar opinion_, nothing so untrue to itself. Who shall +then please since none can fix it? 'Tis heresy (this of submitting to +every blast of popular extravagancy) which I have combated in persons +very dear to me; _Dear madam_, let them not have your authority for a +relapse, when I had almost committed them; but consider it without a +bias, and give sentence as you see cause; and in that interim put me +not off (_Dear madam_) with those chimeras, but tell me plainly what +inconvenience is it to come? If it be one in earnest, I will submit, +but otherwise, I am so much my own friend, and my friend's friend, +as not to be satisfied with your Ladyship's taking measure of your +actions by others' opinion, when I know too that the severest could +find nothing in this journey that they could condemn, but your excess +of charity to me, and that censure you have already supported with +patience, and (notwithstanding my own consciousness of no ways +deserving your sufferance upon that score) I cannot beg you to recover +the reputation of your judgement in that particular, since it must be +my ruin. I should now say very much for your most obliging commands to +me, to write, and should beg frequent letters from your Ladyship with +all possible importunity, and should by command from my _Lucasia_ +excuse her last rudeness (as she calls it) in giving you account of +her honour for you under her own hand, but I must beg your pardon now, +and out-believing all, I can say upon every one of these accounts, for +really, madam, you cannot tell how to imagine any person more to any +one, than I am, + +_Madam, +Your Ladyship's +most faithful servant, +and passionate friend_, +ORINDA + + + + +JOHN LOCKE + +1632-1704 + + + +TO WILLIAM MOLYNEUX + +_A philosopher's confidences_ + + +Oates, 26 _April_, 1695. + +SIR, + +You look with the eyes, and speak the language of friendship, when you +make my life of much more concern to the world than your own. I take +it, as it is, for an effect of your kindness, and so shall not accuse +you of compliment; the mistakes and over-valuings of good-will being +always sincere, even when they exceed what common truth allows. This +on my side I must beg you to believe, that my life would be much more +pleasant and useful to me, if you were within my reach, that I might +sometimes enjoy your conversation, and, upon twenty occasions, lay +my thoughts before you, and have the advantage of your judgement. I +cannot complain that I have not my share of friends of all ranks, and +such, whose interest, assistance, affection, and opinions too, in fit +cases, I can rely on. But methinks, for all this, there is one place +vacant, that I know nobody that would so well fill as yourself; I want +one near me to talk freely with, _de quolibet ente_; to propose to +the extravagancies that rise in my mind; one with whom I would debate +several doubts and questions, to see what was in them. Meditating by +one's self, is like digging in the mine; it often, perhaps, brings up +maiden earth, which never came near the light before; but whether it +contains any metal in it, is never so well tried as in conversation +with a knowing judicious friend who carries about with him the true +touchstone, which is love of truth in a clear-thinking head. Men of +parts and judgement the world usually gets hold of, and by a great +mistake (that their abilities of mind are lost, if not employed in the +pursuit of wealth or power) engages them in the ways of fortune and +interest, which usually leave but little freedom or leisure of thought +for pure disinterested truth. And such who give themselves up frankly, +and in earnest to the full latitude of real knowledge, are not +everywhere to be met with. Wonder not, therefore, that I wish so much +for you in my neighbourhood; I should be too happy in a friend of your +make, were you within my reach. But yet I cannot but wish that some +business would once bring you within distance; and it is a pain to me +to think of leaving the world without the happiness of seeing you. + +I do not wonder that a kinsman of yours should magnify civilities that +scarce deserve the name; I know not wherein they consisted, but in +being glad to see one that was in any way related to you, and was +himself a very ingenious man; either of those was a title to more than +I did, or could show him. I am sorry I have not yet had an opportunity +to wait on him in London; and I fear he should be gone before I am +able to get thither. This long winter, and cold spring, has hung very +heavy upon my lungs, and they are not yet in a case to be ventured in +London air, which must be my excuse for not waiting upon him and Dr. +Ashe yet. + +The third edition of my essay has already, or will be speedily, in the +press. But what perhaps will seem stranger, and possibly please you +better, an abridgement is now making (if it be not already done) by +one of the university of Oxford, for the use of young scholars, in the +place of the ordinary system of logic. From the acquaintance I had of +the temper of that place I did not expect to have it get much footing +there. But so it is, I some time since received a very civil letter +from one, wholly a stranger to me there, concerning such a design; and +by another from him since, I conclude it near done. He seems to be an +ingenious man, and he writes sensibly about it, but I can say nothing +of it till I see it; and he, of his own accord, has offered that it +shall be wholly submitted to my opinion, and disposal of it. And thus, +sir, possibly that which you once proposed may be attained to, and I +was pleased with the gentleman's design for your sake. + +You are a strange man, you oblige me very much by the care you take +to have it well translated, and you thank me for complying with your +offer. In my last, as I remember, I told you the reason why it was +so long before I writ, was an expectation of an answer from London, +concerning something I had to communicate to you: it was in short +this; I was willing to know what my bookseller would give for a good +latin copy; he told me, at last, twenty pounds. His delay was, because +he would first have known what the translator demanded. But I forced +him to make his proposal, and so I send it to you, to make what use of +it you please. He since writ me word, that a friend of his at Oxford +would, in some time, be at leisure to do it, and would undertake it. I +bid him excuse himself to him, for that it was in hands I approved of, +and some part of it now actually done. For I hope the essay (he was to +show you the next week after you writ to me last) pleased you. Think +it not a compliment, that I desire you to make what alterations you +think fit. One thing particularly you will oblige me and the world in, +and that is, in paring off some of the superfluous repetitions, which +I left in for the sake of illiterate men, and the softer sex, not used +to abstract notions and reasonings. But much of this reasoning will +be out of doors in a latin translation. I refer all to your judgement, +and so am secure it will be done as is best. + +What I shall add concerning enthusiasm, I guess, will very much agree +with your thoughts, since yours jump so right with mine, about the +place where it is to come in, I having designed it for chap. 18, lib. +iv, as a false principle of reasoning often made use of. But, to give +an historical account of the various ravings men have embraced for +religion, would, I fear, be besides my purpose, and be enough to make +an huge volume. + +My opinion of P. Malebranche agrees perfectly with yours. What I +have writ concerning 'seeing all things in God', would make a little +treatise of itself. But I have not quite gone through it, for fear +I should by somebody or other be tempted to print it. For I love not +controversies, and have a personal kindness for the author. When I +have the happiness to see you, we will consider it together, and you +shall dispose of it. + +I think I shall make some other additions to be put into your latin +translation, and particularly concerning the 'connection of ideas', +which has not, that I know, been hitherto considered, and has, I +guess, a greater influence upon our minds than is usually taken notice +of. Thus, you see, I make you the confident of my reveries; you would +be troubled with a great many more of them, were you nearer. + + + +TO DR. MOLYNEUX + +_True friendship_ + + +Oates, 27 _Oct._ 1698. + +SIR, + +Death has, with a violent hand, hastily snatched from you a dear +brother. I doubt not but, on this occasion, you need all the +consolation can be given to one unexpectedly bereft of so worthy and +near a relation. Whatever inclination I may have to alleviate your +sorrow, I bear too great a share in the loss, and am too sensibly +touched with it myself, to be in a condition to discourse with you on +this subject, or do any thing but mingle my tears with yours. I have +lost, in your brother, not only an ingenious and learned acquaintance, +all that the world esteemed; but an intimate and sincere friend, whom +I truly loved, and by whom I was truly loved: and what a loss that is, +those only can be sensible who know how valuable, and how scarce, +a true friend is, and how far to be preferred to all other sorts of +treasure. He has left a son, who I know was dear to him, and deserved +to be so as much as was possible, for one of his age. I cannot think +myself wholly incapacitated from paying some of the affection and +service that was due from me to my dear friend, as long as he has a +child, or a brother, in the world. If, therefore, there be any thing, +at this distance, wherein I, in my little sphere, may be able to serve +your nephew or you, I beg you, by the memory of our deceased friend, +to let me know it, that you may see that one who loved him so well, +cannot but be tenderly concerned for his son, nor be otherwise than I +am, Sir, etc. + + + + +SAMUEL PEPYS + +1633-1703 + + + +TO GEORGE, LORD BERKELEY + +_An explanation_ + + +Derby House, 22 _Feb._ 1677-8 + +MY LORD, + +I am greatly owing to your Lordship for your last favour at St. +John's, and did, till now, reckon myself under no less a debt to my +Ladies for the honour at the same time done me, in their commands +touching Mr. Bonithan. But, my Lord, I have lately had the misfortune +of being undeceived in the latter, by coming to know the severity with +which some of my Ladies are pleased to discourse of me in relation +thereto. I assure your Lordship, I was so big with the satisfaction of +having an opportunity given me by my Ladies at once of obliging them, +paying a small respect to you, and doing a good office to a deserving +gentleman, that I did not let one day pass before I had bespoke and +obtained His Majesty's and Royal Highness's promise of favour in Mr. +Bonithan's behalf: and was so far afterwards from failing him in my +further assistances with Captain Trevanion and others, that I took +early care to secure him a lieutenancy, by a commission actually +signed for him by the King, in the ship _Stavereene_, relying upon the +character Captain Trevanion had given me of his capacity to abide +the examination, established by the King, upon the promotion of +lieutenants; which was not only the most I should have done in the +case of a brother, but more than ever I did in any man's case before, +or, for his sake, do think I shall ever do again. True it is, my Lord, +that when, upon his examination by the officers of the Navy, he was +found not so fully qualified for the office of lieutenant as was +requisite, I did with all respect, and to his seeming satisfaction, +advise him to pass a little longer time in the condition he was +then in, under a stricter application of himself to the practice of +navigation. And, in pursuance of my duty to the King, I did acquaint +him also with Mr. Bonithan's present unreadiness; and had, therefore, +a command given me for conferring the commission prepared for him upon +another, who, upon examination, at the same time with Mr. Bonithan, +was found better qualified for it. As to what I understand my Ladies +are pleased to entertain themselves and others with, to my reproach, +as if money had been wanting in the case, it is a reproach lost upon +me, my Lord, who am known to be so far from needing any purgation in +the point of selling places, as never to have taken so much as my fee +for a commission or warrant to any one officer in the Navy, within +the whole time, now near twenty years, that I have had the honour of +serving His Majesty therein--a self-denial at this day so little in +fashion, and yet so chargeable to maintain, that I take no pride, +and as little pleasure, in the mentioning it, further than it happily +falls in here to my defence against the mistake the Ladies seem +disposed to arraign me by on this occasion. Besides that, in the +particular case of this gentleman, Lieut. Beele, who enjoys the +commission designed for Mr. Bonithan, he is one whose face I never +saw either before or since the time of his receiving it, nor know one +friend he has in the world to whom he owes this benefit, other than +the King's justice and his own modest merit: which, having said, it +remains only that I assure your Lordship what I have so said, is not +calculated with any regard to, much less any repining at, the usage +the Ladies are pleased to show me in this affair, for 'tis fit I bear +it, but to acquit myself to your Lordship in my demeanour towards +them, as becomes their and, my Lord, + +Your Lordship's most obedient Servant. + + + +TO MRS. STEWARD + +_A wedding in the city_ + + +20 _Sept._ 1695. + +MADAM, + +You are very good, and pray continue so, by as many kind messages as +you can, and notices of your health, such as the bearer brings you +back my thanks for, and a thousand services. Here's a sad town, and +God knows when it will be a better, our losses at sea making a very +melancholy exchange at both ends of it; the gentlewomen of this, to +say nothing of the other, sitting with their arms across, without a +yard of muslin in their shops to sell, while the ladies, they tell +me, walk pensively by, without a shilling, I mean a good one, in their +pockets to buy. One thing there is indeed, that comes in my way as a +Governor, to hear of, which carries a little mirth with it, and indeed +is very odd. Two wealthy citizens that are lately dead, and left their +estates, one to a Blue Coat boy, and the other to a Blue Coat girl, in +Christ's Hospital. The extraordinariness of which has led some of +the magistrates to carry it on to a match, which is ended in a public +wedding; he in his habit of blue satin, led by two of the girls, and +she in blue, with an apron green and petticoat yellow, all of sarsnet, +led by two of the boys of the house, through Cheapside to Guildhall +Chapel, where they were married by the Dean of St. Paul's, she given +by my Lord Mayor. The wedding dinner, it seems, was kept in the +Hospital Hall, but the great day will be tomorrow, St Matthew's; when, +so much I am sure of, my Lord Mayor will be there, and myself also +have had a ticket of invitation thither, and if I can, will be there +too, but, for other particulars, I must refer you to my next, and so, + +Dear madam, Adieu. + +Bow Bells are just now ringing, ding dong, but whether for this, I +cannot presently tell; but it is likely enough, for I have known them +ring upon much foolisher occasions, and lately too. + + + +TO JOHN EVELYN + +_Reply to an old friend_ + + +Clapham, 7 _Aug._ 1700. + +I have no herds to mind, nor will my Doctor allow me any books here. +What then, will you say, too, are you doing? Why, truly, nothing that +will bear naming, and yet I am not, I think, idle; for who can, that +has so much of past and to come to think on, as I have? And thinking, +I take it, is working, though many forms beneath what my Lady and you +are doing. But pray remember what o'clock it is with you and me; and +be not now, by overstirring, too bold with your present complaint, any +more than I dare be with mine, which, too, has been no less kind in +giving me my warning, than the other to you, and to neither of us, +I hope, and, through God's mercy, dare say, either unlooked for or +unwelcome. I wish, nevertheless, that I were able to administer any +thing towards the lengthening that precious rest of life which God has +thus long blessed you, and, in you, mankind, with; but I have always +been too little regardful of my own health, to be a prescriber to +others. I cannot give myself the scope I otherwise should in talking +now to you at this distance, on account of the care extraordinary I am +now under from Mrs. Skinner's being suddenly fallen very ill; but ere +long I may possibly venture at entertaining you with something from +my young man in exchange--I don't say in payment, for the pleasure you +gratify me with from yours, whom I pray God to bless with continuing +but what he is! and I'll ask no more for him. + + + + +JONATHAN SWIFT + +1667-1745 + + + +TO STELLA + +_The Dean at home_ + + +London, 16 _Jan._ 1710-11. + +O faith, young women, I have sent my letter N. 13, without one crumb +of an answer to any of MD's; there is for you now; and yet Presto +ben't angry faith, not a bit, only he will begin to be in pain next +Irish post, except he sees MD's little handwriting in the glass frame +at the bar of St. James's Coffee-house, where Presto would never go +but for that purpose. Presto's at home, God help him, every night from +six till bed time, and has as little enjoyment or pleasure in life at +present as anybody in the world, although in full favour with all the +ministry. As hope saved, nothing gives Presto any sort of dream of +happiness, but a letter now and then from his own dearest MD. I love +the expectation of it, and when it does not come, I comfort myself, +that I have it yet to be happy with. Yes faith, and when I write to +MD, I am happy too; it is just as if methinks you were here, and I +prating to you, and telling you where I have been: Well, says you, +Presto, come, where have you been to-day? come, let's hear now. And so +then I answer; Ford and I were visiting Mr. Lewis, and Mr. Prior, and +Prior has given me a fine Plautus, and then Ford would have had me +dine at his lodgings, and so I would not; and so I dined with him at +an eating-house; which I have not done five times since I came here; +and so I came home, after visiting Sir Andrew Fountaine's mother and +sister, and Sir Andrew Fountaine is mending, though slowly. + +17. I was making, this morning, some general visits, and at twelve I +called at the coffee-house for a letter from MD; so the man said he +had given it to Patrick; then I went to the Court of requests and +treasury to find Mr. Harley, and after some time spent in mutual +reproaches, I promised to dine with him; I stayed there till seven, +then called at Sterne's and Leigh's to talk about your box, and to +have it sent by Smyth; Sterne says he has been making inquiries, +and will set things right as soon as possible. I suppose it lies at +Chester, at least I hope so, and only wants a lift over to you.... +Well, so I came home to read my letter from Stella, but the dog +Patrick was abroad; at last he came, and I got my letter; I found +another hand had superscribed it; when I opened it, I found it written +all in French, and subscribed Bernage: faith, I was ready to fling +it at Patrick's head. Bernage tells me, he had been to desire your +recommendation to me to make him a captain; and your cautious answer, +'That he had as much power with me as you,' was a notable one; if you +were here, I would present you to the ministry as a person of ability. +Bernage should let me know where to write to him; this is the second +letter I have had without any direction; however, I beg I may not have +a third, but that you will ask him, and send me how I shall direct +to him. In the meantime, tell him, that if regiments are to be raised +here, as he says, I will speak to George Granville, secretary at war, +to make him a captain; and use what other interest I conveniently can. +I think that is enough, and so tell him, and do not trouble me with +his letters when I expect them from MD; do you hear, young women, +write to Presto. + +18. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary St. John, and we were to +dine at Mr. Harley's alone, about some business of importance; but +there were two or three gentlemen there. Mr. Secretary and I went +together from his office to Mr. Harley's, and thought to have been +very wise; but the deuce a bit: the company stayed, and more came, +and Harley went away at seven, and the secretary and I stayed with the +rest of the company till eleven; I would then have had him come away, +but he was in for it; and though he swore he would come away at that +flask, there I left him. I wonder at the civility of these people; +when he saw I would drink no more, he would always pass the bottle by +me, and yet I could not keep the toad from drinking himself, nor he +would not let me go neither, nor Masham, who was with us. When I +got home, I found a parcel directed to me, and opening it, I found +a pamphlet written entirely against myself, not by name, but against +something I writ: it is pretty civil, and affects to be so, and I +think I will take no notice of it; it is against something written +very lately; and indeed I know not what to say, nor do I care; and so +you are a saucy rogue for losing your money to-day at Stoyte's; to let +that bungler beat you, my Stella, are not you ashamed? well, I forgive +you this once, never do so again; no, noooo. Kiss and be friends, +sirrah.--Come, let me go sleep, I go earlier to bed than formerly; and +have not been out so late these two months; but the secretary was in a +drinking humour. So good night, myownlittledearsaucyinsolentrogues. + +19. Then you read that long word in the last line, no faith have not +you. Well, when will this letter come from our MD? to-morrow or next +day without fail; yes faith, and so it is coming. This was an insipid +snowy day, and I dined gravely with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and came home, +and am now got to bed a little after ten; I remember old Culpepper's +maxim: + + Would you have a settled head, + You must early go to bed: + I tell you, and I tell it again, + You must be in bed at ten. + +20. And so I went to-day with my new wig, o hoao, to visit Lady +Worsley, whom I had not seen before, although she was near a month in +town. Then I walked in the Park to find Mr. Ford, whom I had promised +to meet, and coming down the Mall, who should come towards me but +Patrick, and gives me five letters out of his pocket. I read the +superscription of the first, Pshoh, said I; of the second, pshoh +again; of the third, pshah, pshah, pshah; of the fourth, a gad, a gad, +a gad, I am in a rage; of the fifth and last, O hoooa; ay marry +this is something, this is our MD, so truly we opened it, I think +immediately, and it began the most impudently in the world, thus; Dear +Presto, we are even thus far. Now we are even, quoth Stephen, when he +gave his wife six blows for one. I received your ninth four days after +I had sent my thirteenth. But I'll reckon with you anon about that, +young women. Why did not you recant at the end of your letter when you +got your eleventh? tell me that, huzzies base, were we even then, were +we, sirrah? but I will not answer your letter now, I will keep it for +another time. We had a great deal of snow to-day, and it is terrible +cold.... + +21. _Morning_. It has snowed terribly all night, and is vengeance +cold. I am not yet up, but cannot write long; my hands will freeze. Is +there a good fire, Patrick? Yes, sir, then I will rise; come take away +the candle. You must know I write on the dark side of my bedchamber, +and am forced to have a candle till I rise, for the bed stands between +me and the window, and I keep the curtains shut this cold weather. +So pray let me rise, and, Patrick, here, take away the candle.--_At +night._ We are now here in high frost and snow, the largest fire can +hardly keep us warm. It is very ugly walking, a baker's boy broke his +thigh yesterday. I walk slow, make short steps, and never tread on my +heel. It is a good proverb the Devonshire people have: + + Walk fast in snow, + In frost walk slow, + And still as you go, + Tread on your toe: + + When frost and snow are both together, + Sit by the fire and spare shoe leather. + +22. _Morning_. Starving, starving, uth, uth, uth, uth, uth.--Do not +you remember I used to come into your chamber, and turn Stella out of +her chair, and rake up the fire in a cold morning, and cry uth, uth, +uth? O faith, I must rise, my hand is so cold I can write no more.... + +26, 27, 28, 29, 30. I have been so lazy and negligent these last four +days, that I could not write to MD. My head is not in order, and yet +it is not absolutely ill, but giddyish, and makes me listless; I walk +every day, and hope I shall grow better. I wish I were with MD; I long +for spring and good weather, and then I will come over. My riding in +Ireland keeps me well. I am very temperate, and eat of the easiest +meats as I am directed, and hope the malignity will go off; but +one fit shakes me a long time. I dined to-day with Lord Mountjoy, +yesterday at Mr. Stone's in the city, on Sunday at Vanhomrigh's, +Saturday with Ford, and Friday I think at Vanhomrigh's, and that's all +the journal I can send MD; for I was so lazy while I was well that I +could not write. I thought to have sent this to-night, but it is ten, +and I'll go to bed, and write on the other side to Parsivol to-morrow, +and send it on Thursday; and so good night my dears, and love Presto, +and be healthy, and Presto will be so too. + + + +To LORD TREASURER OXFORD + +_The Dean makes his bow_ + + +1 _July_, 1714. + +MY LORD, + +When I was with you, I have said more than once, that I would never +allow quality or station made any real difference between men. Being +now absent and forgotten, I have changed my mind: you have a thousand +people who can pretend they love you, with as much appearance of +sincerity as I, so that, according to common justice, I can have but +a thousandth part in return of what I give. And this difference is +wholly owing to your station. And the misfortune is still the greater, +because I always loved you just so much the worse for your station: +for, in your public capacity, you have often angered me to the heart, +but, as a private man, never once. So that, if I only look toward +myself, I could wish you a private man to-morrow: for I have nothing +to ask; at least nothing that you will give, which is the same thing: +and then you would see whether I should not with much more willingness +attend you in a retirement, whenever you please to give me leave, than +ever I did at London or Windsor. From these sentiments I will never +write to you, if I can help it, otherwise than as to a private person, +or allow myself to have been obliged to you in any other capacity. + +The memory of one great instance of your candour and justice, I will +carry to my grave; that having been in a manner domestic with you +for almost four years, it was never in the power of any public or +concealed enemy to make you think ill of me, though malice and envy +were often employed to that end. If I live, posterity shall know that, +and more; which, though you, and somebody that shall be nameless, seem +to value less than I could wish, is all the return I can make you. +Will you give me leave to say how I would desire to stand in your +memory? As one, who was truly sensible of the honour you did him, +though he was too proud to be vain upon it; as one, who was neither +assuming, officious, nor teasing; who never wilfully misrepresented +persons or facts to you, nor consulted his passions when he gave +a character; and lastly, as one, whose indiscretions proceeded +altogether from a weak head, and not an ill heart. I will add one +thing more, which is the highest compliment I can make, that I never +was afraid of offending you, nor am now in any pain for the manner +I write to you in. I have said enough; and, like one at your levee, +having made my bow, I shrink back into the crowd. + + + +TO DR. SHERIDAN + +_News from the country_ + + +25 _Jan._ 1724-5. + +I have a packet of letters, which I intended to send by Molly, who has +been stopped three days by the bad weather; but now I will send them +by the post to-morrow to Kells, and enclosed to Mr. Tickell there is +one to you, and one to James Stopford. + +I can do no work this terrible weather; which has put us all seventy +times out of patience. I have been deaf nine days, and am now pretty +well recovered again. + +Pray desire Mr. Stanton and Worral to continue giving themselves some +trouble with Mr. Pratt; but let it succeed or not, I hope I shall be +easy. + +Mrs. Johnson swears it will rain till Michaelmas. She is so pleased +with her pick-axe, that she wears it fastened to her girdle on her +left side, in balance with her watch. The lake is strangely overflown, +and we are desperate about turf, being forced to buy it three miles +off: and Mrs. Johnson (God help her!) gives you many a curse. Your +mason is come, but cannot yet work upon your garden. Neither can I +agree with him about the great wall. For the rest, _vide_ the letter +you will have on Monday, if Mr. Tickell uses you well. + +The news of this country is, that the maid you sent down, John +Farelly's sister, is married; but the portion and settlement are yet a +secret. The cows here never give milk on midsummer eve. + +You would wonder what carking and caring there is among us for small +beer and lean mutton, and starved lamb, and stopping gaps, and driving +cattle from the corn. In that we are all-to-be-Dingleyed. + +The ladies' room smokes; the rain drops from the skies into the +kitchen; our servants eat and drink like the devil, and pray for rain, +which entertains them at cards and sleep; which are much lighter than +spades, sledges, and crows. Their maxim is, + + Eat like a Turk, + Sleep like a dormouse; + Be last at work, + At victuals foremost. + +Which is all at present; hoping you and your good family are well, as +we are all at this present writing &c. + +Robin has just carried out a load of bread and cold meat for +breakfast; this is their way; but now a cloud hangs over them, for +fear it should hold up, and the clouds blow off. + +I write on till Molly comes in for the letter. O, what a draggletail +will she be before she gets to Dublin! I wish she may not happen to +fall upon her back by the way. + +I affirm against Aristotle, that cold and rain congregate homogenes, +for they gather together you and your crew, at whist, punch, and +claret. Happy weather for Mrs. Maul, Betty, and Stopford, and all true +lovers of cards and laziness. + +THE BLESSINGS OF A COUNTRY LIFE. + + Far from our debtors, + No Dublin letters, + Not seen by our betters. + +THE PLAGUES OF A COUNTRY LIFE. + + A companion with news, + A great want of shoes; + Eat lean meat, or choose; + A church without pews. + Our horses astray, + No straw, oats, or hay; + December in May, + Our boys run away, + All servants at play. + +Molly sends for the letter. + + + +TO ALEXANDER POPE + +_Mostly about Gulliver_ + + +Dublin, 17 _Nov._ 1726. + +I am just come from answering a letter of Mrs. Howard's, writ in such +mystical terms, that I should never have found out the meaning, if a +book had not been sent me called _Gulliver's Travels_, of which you +say so much in yours. I read the book over, and in the second volume +observed several passages which appear to be patched and altered, and +the style of a different sort, unless I am mistaken. Dr. Arbuthnot +likes the projectors least; others, you tell me, the flying island; +some think it wrong to be so hard upon whole bodies or corporations, +yet the general opinion is, that reflections on particular persons are +most to be blamed; so that in these cases, I think the best method is +to let censure and opinion take their course. A bishop here said, that +book was full of improbable lies, and for his part, he hardly believed +a word of it; and so much for Gulliver. + +Going to England is a very good thing, if it were not attended with +an ugly circumstance of returning to Ireland. It is a shame you do not +persuade your ministers to keep me on that side, if it were but by a +court expedient of keeping me in prison for a plotter; but at the same +time I must tell you, that such journeys very much shorten my life, +for a month here is very much longer than six at Twickenham. + +How comes friend Gay to be so tedious? Another man can publish fifty +thousand lies sooner than he can publish fifty fables.... Let me add, +that if I were Gulliver's friend, I would desire all my acquaintance +to give out that his copy was basely mangled and abused, and added to, +and blotted out by the printer; for so to me it seems in the second +volume particularly. + +Adieu. + + + +TO JOHN GAY + +_Enquiries into Mr. Gay's pursuits_ + + +Dublin, 4 _May_, 1732. + +I am now as lame as when you writ your letter, and almost as lame as +your letter itself, for want of that limb from my lady duchess, which +you promised, and without which I wonder how it could limp hither. I +am not in a condition to make a true step even on Amesbury Downs, and +I declare that a corporeal false step is worse than a political one: +nay, worse than a thousand political ones, for which I appeal to +courts and ministers, who hobble on and prosper without the sense of +feeling. To talk of riding and walking is insulting me, for I can +as soon fly as do either. It is your pride or laziness, more than +chair-hire, that makes the town expensive. No honour is lost by +walking in the dark; and in the day you may beckon a blackguard +boy under a gate, near your visiting place, (experto crede,) save +elevenpence, and get half-a-crown's worth of health. The worst of my +present misfortune is, that I eat and drink, and can digest neither +for want of exercise; and, to increase my misery, the knaves are +sure to find me at home, and make huge void spaces in my cellars. I +congratulate with you for losing your great acquaintance; in such a +case, philosophy teaches that we must submit, and be content with good +ones. I like Lord Cornbury's refusing his pension, but I demur at his +being elected for Oxford; which, I conceive, is wholly changed; and +entirely devoted to new principles; so it appeared to me the two last +times I was there. I find by the whole cast of your letter, that you +are as giddy and as volatile as ever: just the reverse of Mr. Pope, +who has always loved a domestic life from his youth. I was going to +wish you had some little place that you could call your own, but, I +profess I do not know you well enough to contrive any one system +of life that would please you. You pretend to preach up riding and +walking to the duchess, yet from my knowledge of you after twenty +years, you always joined a violent desire of perpetually shifting +places and company, with a rooted laziness, and an utter impatience of +fatigue. A coach and six horses is the utmost exercise you can bear; +and this only when you can fill it with such company as is best suited +to your taste, and how glad would you be if it could waft you in the +air to avoid jolting; while I, who am so much later in life, can, +or at least could, ride five hundred miles on a trotting horse. You +mortally hate writing, only because it is the thing you chiefly ought +to do; as well to keep up the vogue you have in the world, as to make +you easy in your fortune. You are merciful to everything but money, +your best friend, whom you treat with inhumanity. Be assured I will +hire people to watch all your motions, and to return me a faithful +account. Tell me, have you cured your absence of mind? can you attend +to trifles? can you at Amesbury write domestic libels to divert the +family and neighbouring squires for five miles round? or venture so +far on horseback, without apprehending a stumble at every step? can +you set the footmen a-laughing as they wait at dinner? and do the +duchess's women admire your wit? in what esteem are you with the vicar +of the parish? can you play with him at backgammon? have the farmers +found out that you cannot distinguish rye from barley, or an oak from +a crab-tree? You are sensible that I know the full extent of your +country skill is in fishing for roaches or gudgeons at the highest. + +I love to do you good offices with your friends, and therefore desire +you will show this letter to the duchess, to improve her grace's good +opinion of your qualifications, and convince her how useful you are +likely to be in the family. Her grace shall have the honour of my +correspondence again when she goes to Amesbury. Hear a piece of Irish +news; I buried the famous General Meredyth's father last night in my +cathedral, he was ninety-six years old; so that Mrs. Pope may live +seven years longer. You saw Mr. Pope in health, pray is he generally +more healthy than when I was among you? I would know how your own +health is, and how much wine you drink in a day? My stint in company +is a pint at noon, and half as much at night; but I often dine at home +like a hermit, and then I drink little or none at all. Yet I differ +from you, for I would have society, if I could get what I like, people +of middle understanding, and middle rank. + +Adieu. + + + + +JOSEPH ADDISON + +1672-1719 + + + +TO ALEXANDER POPE + +_Translation of Homer_ + + +26 _Oct._ 1713. + +I was extremely glad to receive a letter from you, but more so upon +reading the contents of it. The work you mention will, I dare say, +very sufficiently recommend itself when your name appears with the +proposals: and if you think I can any way contribute to the forwarding +of them, you cannot lay a greater obligation upon me, than by +employing me in such an office. As I have an ambition of having it +known that you are my friend, I shall be very proud of showing it by +this or any other instance. I question not but your translation will +enrich our tongue, and do honour to our country; for I conclude of +it already from those performances with which you have obliged the +public. I would only have you consider how it may most turn to your +advantage. Excuse my impertinence in this particular, which proceeds +from my zeal for your ease and happiness. The work would cost you a +great deal of time, and, unless you undertake it, will, I am afraid, +never be executed by any other; at least I know none of this age that +is equal to it besides yourself. + +I am at present wholly immersed in country business, and begin to take +a delight in it. I wish I might hope to see you here some time, and +will not despair of it, when you engage in a work that will require +solitude and retirement. + + + +TO MR. SECRETARY CRAGGS + +_A bequest_ + + +_June_ 1719. + +DEAR SIR, + +I cannot wish that any of my writings should last longer than the +memory of our friendship, and therefore I thus publicly bequeath them +to you, in return for the many valuable instances of your affection. + +That they may come to you with as little disadvantage as possible, +I have left the care of them to one, whom, by the experience of some +years, I know well-qualified to answer my intentions. He has already +the honour and happiness of being under your protection; and as he +will very much stand in need of it, I cannot wish him better than +that he may continue to deserve the favour and countenance of such a +patron. + +I have no time to lay out in forming such compliments as would but ill +suit that familiarity between us which was once my greatest pleasure, +and will be my greatest honour hereafter. Instead of them, accept of +my hearty wishes that the great reputation you have acquired so early, +may increase more and more, and that you may long serve your country +with those excellent talents and unblemished integrity, which have so +powerfully recommended you to the most gracious and amiable monarch +that ever filled a throne. May the frankness and generosity of your +spirit continue to soften and subdue your enemies, and gain you many +friends, if possible, as sincere as yourself. When you have found +such, they cannot wish you more true happiness than I, who am with the +greatest zeal, dear sir, + +Your most entirely affectionate friend +and faithful obedient servant. + + + + +SIR RICHARD STEELE + +1672-1729 + + + +TO MARY SCURLOCK + +_An explicit declaration_ + + +11 _Aug._ 1707. + +Madam,--I writ you on Saturday, by Mrs. Warren, and give you this +trouble to urge the same request I made then; which was, that I may be +admitted to wait upon you. I should be very far from desiring this if +it were a transgression of the most severe rules to allow it. I know +you are very much above the little arts which are frequent in your +sex, of giving unnecessary torment to their admirers; I therefore hope +you will do so much justice to the generous passion I have for you, as +to let me have an opportunity of acquainting you upon what motives +I pretend to your good opinion. I shall not trouble you with my +sentiments till I know how they will be received; and as I know no +reason why the difference of sex should make our language to each +other differ from the ordinary rules of right reason, I shall affect +plainness and sincerity in my discourse to you, as much as other +lovers do perplexity and rapture. Instead of saying 'I shall die for +you', I profess I should be glad to lead my life with you. You are +as beautiful, as witty, as prudent, and as good-humoured as any woman +breathing; but, I must confess to you, I regard all these excellences +as you will please to direct them for my happiness or misery. With me, +madam, the only lasting motive to love, is the hope of its becoming +mutual. I beg of you to let Mrs. Warren send me word when I may attend +you. I promise you, I will talk of nothing but indifferent things; +though, at the same time, I know not how I shall approach you in the +tender moment of first seeing you after this declaration which has +been made by, madam, + +Your most obedient and most faithful +humble servant. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A pleasing transport_ + + +Smith Street, Westminster, 1707. + +Madam,--I lay down last night with your image in my thoughts, and +have awakened this morning in the same contemplation. The pleasing +transport with which I am delighted has a sweetness in it attended +with a train of ten thousand soft desires, anxieties, and cares. +The day arises on my hopes with new brightness; youth, beauty, and +innocence are the charming objects that steal me from myself, and give +me joys above the reach of ambition, pride, or glory. Believe me, fair +one, to throw myself at your feet is giving myself the highest bliss +I know on earth. Oh, hasten, ye minutes! bring on the happy morning +wherein to be ever hers will make me look down on thrones! Dear Molly, +I am tenderly, passionately, faithfully thine. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A lover betrays himself_ + + +St. James's Coffee House, 1 _Sept._ 1707 + +Madam,--It is the hardest thing in the world to be in love, and yet to +attend to business. As for me, all who speak to me find me out, and I +must lock myself up, or other people will do it for me. + +A gentleman asked me this morning, 'What news from Lisbon?' and I +answered, 'She's exquisitely handsome.' Another desired to know when I +had been last at Hampton Court. I replied, 'It will be on Tuesday come +se'nnight.' Pr'ythee allow me at least to kiss your hand before that +day, that my mind may be in some composure. O love! + + A thousand torments dwell about thee! + Yet who would live to live without thee? + +Methinks I could write a volume to you; but all the language on earth +would fail in saying how much, and with what disinterested passion, I +am ever yours. + + + +TO HIS WIFE + +_He proposes an outing_ + + +Lord Sunderland's Office, 19 May, 1708. + +Eleven o'clock. + +Dear Prue,--I desire you to get the coach and yourself ready as soon +as you can conveniently, and call for me here, from whence we will go +and spend some time together in the fresh air in free conference. Let +my best periwig be put in the coach-box, and my new shoes, for it is +a great comfort to be well dressed in agreeable company. You are vital +life to your obliged, affectionate husband, and humble servant. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_His greatest affliction_ + + +12 _Aug._ 1708. + +Madam,--I have your letter, wherein you let me know that the little +dispute we have had is far from being a trouble to you; nevertheless +I assure you, any disturbance between us is the greatest affliction to +me imaginable. You talk of the judgement of the world; I shall never +govern my actions by it, but by the rules of morality and right +reason. I love you better than the light of my eyes or the life-blood +in my heart; but you are also to understand that neither my sight +shall be so far enchanted, nor my affection so much master of me, +as to make me forget our common interest. To attend my business as +I ought, and improve my fortune, it is necessary that my time and +my will should be under no direction but my own.... I write all this +rather to explain my own thoughts to you, than to answer your letter +distinctly. I enclose it to you, that upon second thoughts, you may +see the disrespectful manner in which you treat + +Your affectionate, faithful husband. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Four characteristic notes_ + + +I + +From the Press, one in the morning, 30 _Sept._ 1710. + +Dear Prue,--I am very sleepy and tired, but could not think of closing +my eyes till I had told you I am, dearest creature, + +Your most affectionate and faithful husband. + + +II + +Bloomsbury Square, 24 _Dec._ 1713. + +Dear Prue,--I dine with Lord Halifax and shall be at home half hour +after six. For thee I die, for thee I languish. + + +III + +16 _Feb._ 1716-17. + +Dear Prue,--Sober or not, I am ever yours. + + +IV + +Thursday, 3 in the afternoon, 2 _May_, 1717. + +I had a very painful night last night; but, after a little chocolate +an hour or two ago, and a chicken for dinner, am much more at ease. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The natural slave of beauty_. + + +20 _June_, 1717. + +Dear Prue,--I have yours of the 14th, and am infinitely obliged to you +for the length of it. I do not know another whom I could commend for +that circumstance; but where we entirely love, the continuance of +anything they do to please us is a pleasure. As for your relations, +once for all, pray take it for granted, that my regard and conduct +towards all and singular of them shall be as you direct. + +I hope, by the grace of God, to continue what you wish me, every +way, an honest man. My wife and my children are the objects that have +wholly taken up my heart; and as I am not invited or encouraged in +anything which regards the public, I am easy under that neglect or +envy of my past actions, and cheerfully contract that diffusive spirit +within the interests of my own family. You are the head of us; and I +stoop to a female reign as being naturally made the slave of beauty. +But to prepare for our manner of living when we are again together, +give me leave to say, while I am here at leisure, and come to lie at +Chelsea, what I think may contribute to our better way of living. +I very much approve Mrs. Evans and her husband; and if you take my +advice, I would have them a being in our house, and Mrs. Clark the +care and inspection of the nursery. I would have you entirely +at leisure to pass your time with me in diversions, in books, in +entertainments, and no manner of business intrude upon us but at +stated times. For, though you are made to be the delight of my eyes, +and food of all my senses and faculties, yet a turn of care +and housewifery, and I know not what prepossession against +conversation-pleasures, robs me of the witty and the handsome woman +to a degree not to be expressed. I will work my brains and fingers to +procure us plenty of all things, and demand nothing of you but to take +delight in agreeable dresses, cheerful discourses, and gay sights, +attended by me. This may be done by putting the kitchen and the +nursery in the hands I propose; and I shall have nothing to do but to +pass as much time at home as I possibly can, in the best company in +the world. We cannot tell here what to think of the trial of my Lord +Oxford; if the ministry are in earnest in that, and I should see it +will be extended to a length of time, I will leave them to themselves, +and wait upon you. Miss Moll grows a mighty beauty, and she shall be +very prettily dressed, as likewise shall Betty and Eugene: and if +I throw away a little money in adorning my brats, I hope you will +forgive me: they are, I thank God, all very well; and the charming +form of their mother has tempered the likeness they bear to their +rough sire, who is, with the greatest fondness, + +Your most obliged and obedient husband. + + + + +JOHN GAY + +1685-1732 + + + +TO JONATHAN SWIFT + +_Concerning Gulliver_ + + +17 _Nov._ 1726. + +About ten days ago a book was published here of the travels of one +Gulliver, which has been the conversation of the whole town ever +since: the whole impression sold in a week: and nothing is more +diverting than to hear the different opinions people give of it, +though all agree in liking it extremely. It is generally said that you +are the author; but I am told the bookseller declares, he knows +not from what hand it came. From the highest to the lowest it is +universally read, from the cabinet-council to the nursery. The +politicians to a man agree, that it is free from particular +reflections, but that the satire on general societies of men is +too severe. Not but we now and then meet with people of greater +perspicuity, who are in search for particular applications in every +leaf; and it is highly probable we shall have keys published to +give light into Gulliver's design. Lord ---- is the person who least +approves it, blaming it as a design of evil consequence to depreciate +human nature, at which it cannot be wondered that he takes most +offence, being himself the most accomplished of his species, and so +losing more than any other of that praise which is due both to the +dignity and virtue of a man. Your friend, my Lord Harcourt, commends +it very much, though he thinks in some places the matter too far +carried. The Duchess Dowager of Marlborough is in raptures at it; she +says she can dream of nothing else since she read it: she declares +that she has now found out that her whole life has been lost in +caressing the worst part of mankind, and treating the best as her +foes: and that if she knew Gulliver, though he had been the worst +enemy she ever had, she should give up her present acquaintance for +his friendship. You may see by this, that you are not much injured +by being supposed the author of this piece. If you are, you have +disobliged us, and two or three of your best friends, in not giving +us the least hint of it while you were with us; and in particular Dr. +Arbuthnot, who says it is ten thousand pities he had not known it, he +could have added such abundance of things upon every subject. Among +lady critics, some have found out that Mr. Gulliver had a particular +malice to maids of honour. Those of them who frequent the church, say +his design is impious, and that it is depreciating the works of the +Creator. + +Notwithstanding, I am told the princess has read it with great +pleasure. As to other critics, they think the flying island is the +least entertaining; and so great an opinion the town have of the +impossibility of Gulliver's writing at all below himself, it is agreed +that part was not writ by the same hand, though this has its defenders +too. It has passed lords and commons, _nemine contradicente_; and the +whole town, men, women, and children, are quite full of it. + +Perhaps I may all this time be talking to you of a book you have never +seen, and which has not yet reached Ireland; if it has not, I believe +what we have said will be sufficient to recommend it to your reading, +and that you will order me to send it to you. + +But it will be much better to come over yourself, and read it here, +where you will have the pleasure of variety of commentators, to +explain the difficult passages to you. + +We all rejoice that you have fixed the precise time of your coming to +be _cum hirundine prima_; which we modern naturalists pronounce, +ought to be reckoned, contrary to Pliny, in this northern latitude of +fifty-two degrees, from the end of February, Styl. Greg., at furthest. +But to us, your friends, the coming of such a black swallow as you +will make a summer in the worst of seasons. We are no less glad at +your mention of Twickenham and Dawley; and in town you know, you have +a lodging at court. + +The princess is clothed in Irish silk; pray give our service to the +weavers. We are strangely surprised to hear that the bells in Ireland +ring without your money. I hope you do not write the thing that is +not. We are afraid that B---- hath been guilty of that crime, that you +(like a houyhnhnm) have treated him as a yahoo, and discarded him your +service. I fear you do not understand these modish terms, which every +creature now understands but yourself. + +You tell us your wine is bad, and that the clergy do not frequent your +house, which we look upon to be tautology. The best advice we can give +you is, to make them a present of your wine, and come away to better. + +You fancy we envy you, but you are mistaken; we envy those you are +with, for we cannot envy the man we love. Adieu. + + + + +ALEXANDER POPE + +1688-1744 + + + +TO WILLIAM WYCHERLEY + +_Dryden and his critics_ + + +Binfield in Windsor Forest, 26 _Dec_. 1704. + +It was certainly a great satisfaction to me to see and converse with +a man, whom in his writings I had so long known with pleasure; but +it was a high addition to it, to hear you, at our very first meeting, +doing justice to your dead friend Mr. Dryden. I was not so happy as to +know him: _Virgilium tantum vidi_. Had I been born early enough I +must have known and loved him: for I have been assured, not only +by yourself, but by Mr. Congreve and Sir William Trumbul, that his +personal qualities were as amiable as his poetical, notwithstanding +the many libellous misrepresentations of them, against which the +former of these gentlemen has told me he will one day vindicate him. I +suppose those injuries were begun by the violence of party, but it +is no doubt they were continued by envy at his success and fame. And +those scribblers who attacked him in his latter times, were only like +gnats in a summer's evening, which are never very troublesome but in +the finest and most glorious season; for his fire, like the sun's, +shined clearest towards its setting. + +You must not therefore imagine, that when you told me my own +performances were above those critics, I was so vain as to believe it; +and yet I may not be so humble as to think myself quite below their +notice. For critics, as they are birds of prey, have ever a natural +inclination to carrion: and though such poor writers as I are but +beggars, no beggar is so poor but he can keep a cur, and no author +is so beggarly but he can keep a critic. I am far from thinking the +attacks of such people any honour or dishonour even to me, much less +to Mr. Dryden. I agree with you that whatever lesser wits have arisen +since his death are but like stars appearing when the sun is set, that +twinkle only in his absence, and with the rays they have borrowed +from him. Our wit (as you call it) is but reflection or imitation, +therefore scarce to be called ours. True wit, I believe, may be +defined a justness of thought, and a facility of expression.... +However, this is far from a complete definition; pray help me to a +better, as I doubt not you can. + + + +TO JOSEPH ADDISON + +_A few thoughts from a rambling head_ + + +14 _Dec_. 1713. + +I have been lying in wait for my own imagination, this week and more, +and watching what thoughts came up in the whirl of the fancy, that +were worth communicating to you in a letter. But I am at length +convinced that my rambling head can produce nothing of that sort; so +I must e'en be content with telling you the old story, that I love +you heartily. I have often found by experience, that nature and +truth, though never so low or vulgar, are yet pleasing when openly and +artlessly represented: it would be diverting to me to read the very +letters of an infant, could it write its innocent inconsistencies and +tautologies just as it thought them. This makes me hope a letter from +me will not be unwelcome to you, when I am conscious I write with more +unreservedness than ever man wrote, or perhaps talked, to another. I +trust your good nature with the whole range of my follies, and really +love you so well, that I would rather you should pardon me than esteem +me; since one is an act of goodness and benevolence, the other a kind +of constrained deference. + +You cannot wonder my thoughts are scarce consistent, when I tell you +how they are distracted. Every hour of my life my mind is strangely +divided; this minute perhaps I am above the stars, with a thousand +systems round about me, looking forward into a vast abyss, and +losing my whole comprehension in the boundless space of creation, in +dialogues with Whiston and the astronomers; the next moment I am below +all trifles, grovelling with T---- in the very centre of nonsense: now +I am recreated with the brisk sallies and quick turns of wit, which +Mr. Steele, in his liveliest and freest humours, darts about him; and +now levelling my application to the insignificant observations and +quirks of grammar of C---- and D----. + +Good God! what an incongruous animal is man! how unsettled in his best +part, his soul; and how changing and variable in his frame of body! +the constancy of the one shook by every notion, the temperament of the +other affected by every blast of wind! What is he, altogether, but a +mighty inconsistency; sickness and pain is the lot of one half of him, +doubt and fear the portion of the other! What a bustle we make about +passing our time when all our space is but a point! what aims and +ambitions are crowded into this little instant of our life, which +(as Shakespeare finely worded it) is rounded with a sleep! Our whole +extent of being is no more, in the eye of Him who gave it, than a +scarce perceptible moment of duration. Those animals whose circle of +living is limited to three or four hours, as the naturalists tell us, +are yet as long-lived, and possess as wide a field of action as man, +if we consider him with a view to all space and all eternity. Who +knows what plots, what achievements a mite may perform in his kingdom +of a grain of dust, within his life of some minutes; and of how much +less consideration than even this, is the life of man in the sight of +God, who is for ever and ever? + +Who that thinks in this train, but must see the world, and its +contemptible grandeurs, lessen before him at every thought? It is +enough to make one remain stupefied in a poise of inaction, void of +all desires, of all designs, of all friendships. + +But we must return (through our very condition of being) to our narrow +selves, and those things that affect ourselves: our passions, our +interests flow in upon us and unphilosophize us into mere mortals. For +my part, I never return so much into myself, as when I think of +you, whose friendship is one of the best comforts I have for the +insignificancy of myself. + + + +TO JONATHAN SWIFT + +_Friends to posterity_ + + +23 _March_, 1727-8. + +I send you a very odd thing, a paper printed in Boston, in New +England, wherein you will find a real person, a member of their +parliament, of the name of Jonathan Gulliver. If the fame of that +traveller has travelled thither, it has travelled very quick, to have +folks christened already by the name of the supposed author. But if +you object that no child so lately christened could be arrived at +years of maturity to be elected into parliament, I reply (to solve the +riddle) that the person is an Anabaptist, and not christened till +full age, which sets all right. However it be, the accident is very +singular that these two names should be united. + +Mr. Gay's opera has been acted near forty days running, and will +certainly continue the whole season. So he has more than a fence about +his thousand pounds; he will soon be thinking of a fence about his two +thousand. Shall no one of us live as we would wish each other to live? +Shall he have no annuity, you no settlement on this side, and I +no prospect of getting to you on the other? This world is made for +Caesar,--as Cato said, for ambitious, false, or flattering people to +domineer in; nay, they would not, by their good will, leave us our +very books, thoughts, or words in quiet. I despise the world yet, I +assure you, more than either Gay or you, and the court more than all +the rest of the world. As for those scribblers for whom you apprehend +I would suppress my _Dulness_ (which, by the way, for the future you +are to call by a more pompous name, the _Dunciad_), how much that nest +of hornets are my regard will easily appear to you when you read the +_Treatise of the Bathos_. + +At all adventures, yours and mine shall stand linked as friends +to posterity, both in verse and prose, and (as Tully calls it) _in +consuetudine studiorum_. Would to God our persons could but as well +and as surely be inseparable! I find my other ties dropping from me; +some worn off, some torn off, some relaxing daily: my greatest, both +by duty, gratitude, and humanity, time is shaking every moment, and +it now hangs but by a thread! I am many years the older for living so +much with one so old; much the more helpless for having been so long +helped and tendered by her; much the more considerate and tender, for +a daily commerce with one who required me justly to be both to her; +and consequently the more melancholy and thoughtful; and the less fit +for others, who want only in a companion or a friend to be amused or +entertained. My constitution too has had its share of decay as well as +my spirits, and I am as much in the decline at forty as you at sixty. +I believe we should be fit to live together could I get a little more +health, which might make me not quite insupportable. Your deafness +would agree with my dulness; you would not want me to speak when +you could not hear. But God forbid you should be as destitute of the +social comforts of life as I must when I lose my mother; or that ever +you should lose your more useful acquaintance so utterly, as to turn +your thoughts to such a broken reed as I am, who could so ill supply +your wants. I am extremely troubled at the return of your deafness; +you cannot be too particular in the accounts of your health to me; +everything you do or say in this kind obliges me, nay, delights me, +to see the justice you do me in thinking me concerned in all your +concerns; so that though the pleasantest thing you can tell me be that +you are better or easier; next to that it pleases me that you make me +the person you would complain to. + +As the obtaining the love of valuable men is the happiest end I +know of this life, so the next felicity is to get rid of fools and +scoundrels; which I cannot but own to you was one part of my design in +falling upon these authors, whose incapacity is not greater than their +insincerity, and of whom I have always found (if I may quote myself), + + That each bad author is as bad a friend. + +This poem will rid me of these insects. + + Cedite, Romani scriptores, cedite, Graii; + _Nescio quid_ maius nascitur Iliade. + +I mean than _my Iliad_; and I call it _Nescio quid_, which is a degree +of modesty; but however, if it silence these fellows, it must be +something greater than any _Iliad_ in Christendom. Adieu. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A farming friend, and the Dunciad_ + + +Dawley, 28 _June_, 1728. + +I now hold the pen for my Lord Bolingbroke, who is reading your +letter between two haycocks, but his attention is somewhat diverted by +casting his eyes on the clouds, not in admiration of what you say, +but for fear of a shower. He is pleased with your placing him in the +triumvirate between yourself and me: though he says, that he doubts he +shall fare like Lepidus, while one of us runs away with all the power, +like Augustus, and another with all the pleasures, like Anthony. It is +upon a foresight of this that he has fitted up his farm, and you will +agree that his scheme of retreat at least is not founded upon weak +appearances. Upon his return from the Bath, all peccant humours, he +finds, are purged out of him; and his great temperance and economy are +so signal, that the first is fit for my constitution, and the latter +would enable you to lay up so much money as to buy a bishopric in +England. As to the return of his health and vigour, were you here, you +might inquire of his haymakers; but as to his temperance, I can answer +that (for one whole day) we have had nothing for dinner but mutton +broth, beans, and bacon, and a barn-door fowl. + +Now his lordship is run after his cart, I have a moment left to myself +to tell you, that I overheard him yesterday agree with a painter +for £200, to paint his country hall with trophies of rakes, spades, +prongs, &c., and other ornaments, merely to countenance his calling +this place a farm--now turn over a new leaf. + +He bids me assure you, he should be sorry not to have more schemes of +kindness for his friends than of ambition for himself; there, though +his schemes may be weak, the motives at least are strong; and he +says farther, if you could bear as great a fall and decrease of your +revenues, as he knows by experience he can, you would not live in +Ireland an hour. + +The _Dunciad_ is going to be printed in all pomp, with the +inscription, which makes me proudest. It will be attended with +_proeme, prolegomena, testimonia scriptorum, index authorum_, and +notes _variorum_. As to the latter, I desire you to read over the +text, and make a few in any way you like best; whether dry raillery, +upon the style and way of commenting of trivial critics; or humourous, +upon the authors in the poem; or historical, of persons, places, +times; or explanatory, or collecting the parallel passages of the +ancients. Adieu. I am pretty well, my mother not ill, Dr. Arbuthnot +vexed with his fever by intervals; I am afraid he declines, and we +shall lose a worthy man: I am troubled about him very much. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_An invitation to England_ + + +23 _March_, 1736-7. + +Though you were never to write to me, yet what you desired in your +last, that I would write often to you, would be a very easy task: for +every day I talk with you, and of you, in my heart; and I need only +set down what that is thinking of. The nearer I find myself verging to +that period of life which is to be labour and sorrow, the more I prop +myself upon those few supports that are left me. People in this state +are like props indeed; they cannot stand alone, but two or more of +them can stand, leaning and bearing upon one another. I wish you and I +might pass this part of life together. My only necessary care is at +an end. I am now my own master too much; my house is too large; my +gardens furnish too much wood and provision for my use. My servants +are sensible and tender of me; they have intermarried, and are become +rather low friends than servants; and to all those that I see here +with pleasure, they take a pleasure in being useful. I conclude this +is your case too in your domestic life, and I sometimes think of your +old housekeeper as my nurse, though I tremble at the sea, which only +divides us. As your fears are not so great as mine, and I firmly hope +your strength still much greater, is it utterly impossible it might +once more be some pleasure to you to see England? My sole motive in +proposing France to meet in, was the narrowness of the passage by sea +from hence, the physicians having told me the weakness of my breast, +&c., is such, as a sea-sickness might endanger my life. Though one or +two of our friends are gone since you saw your native country, there +remain a few more who will last so till death; and who I cannot but +hope have an attractive power to draw you back to a country which +cannot quite be sunk or enslaved, while such spirits remain. And let +me tell you, there are a few more of the same spirit, who would awaken +all your old ideas, and revive your hopes of her future recovery and +virtue. These look up to you with reverence, and would be animated by +the sight of him at whose soul they have taken fire in his writings, +and derived from thence as much love of their species as is consistent +with a contempt for the knaves in it. + +I could never be weary, except at the eyes, of writing to you; but my +real reason (and a strong one it is) for doing it so seldom, is fear; +fear of a very great and experienced evil, that of my letters being +kept by the partiality of friends, and passing into the hands and +malice of enemies, who publish them with all their imperfections on +their head, so that I write not on the common terms of honest men. + +Would to God you would come over with Lord Orrery, whose care of you +in the voyage I could so certainly depend on; and bring with you your +old housekeeper and two or three servants. I have room for all, a +heart for all, and (think what you will) a fortune for all. We could, +were we together, contrive to make our last days easy, and leave some +sort of monument, what friends two wits could be in spite of all the +fools in the world. Adieu. + + + + +SAMUEL RICHARDSON + +1689-1761 + + + +TO MISS MULSO + +_A discussion on love_ + + +3 _Sept_. 1751. + +In another place, you are offended with the word gratitude; as if your +idea of love excluded gratitude. + +And further on, you are offended that I call this same passion 'a +little selfish passion'. + +And you say that you have known few girls, and still fewer men, whom +you have thought 'capable of being in love'. + +'By this', proceed you, 'you will see that my ideas of the word love +are different from yours, when you call it a little selfish passion.' + +Now, madam, if that passion is not little and selfish that makes two +vehement souls prefer the gratification of each other, often to a +sense of duty, and always to the whole world without them, be pleased +to tell me what is? And pray be so good as to define to me what the +noble passion is, of which so few people of either sex are capable. +Give me your ideas of it. + +I put not this question as a puzzler, a bamboozler, but purely for +information; and that I may make my Sir Charles susceptible of the +generous (may I say generous?) flame, and yet know what he is about, +yet be a reasonable man. + +Harriet's passion is founded in gratitude for relief given her in a +great exigence. But the man who rescued her is not, it seems, to have +such a word as gratitude in his head, in return for her love. + +I repeat, that I will please you if I can; please you, Miss Mulso, +I here mean (before I meant not you particularly, my dear, but your +sex), in Sir Charles's character; and I sincerely declare, that I +would rather form his character to your liking, than to the liking of +three parts out of four of the persons I am acquainted with. + +You are one of my best girls, and best judges. Of whom have I the +opinion that I have of Miss Mulso on these nice subjects?--I ask +therefore repeatedly for your definition of the passion which you +dignify by the word noble; and from which you exclude everything mean, +little, or selfish. + +And you really think it marvellous that a young woman should find a +man of exalted merit to be in love with? Why, truly, I am half of your +mind; for how should people find what, in general, they do not seek? +Yet what good creatures are many girls! They will be in love for all +that. + +Why, yes, to be sure, they would be glad of a Sir Charles Grandison, +and prefer him even to a Lovelace, were he capable of being terribly +in love. And yet, I know one excellent girl who is afraid 'that ladies +in general will think him too wise'.--Dear, dear girls, help me to a +few monkey-tricks to throw into his character, in order to shield him +from contempt for his wisdom. + +'It is one of my maxims,' you say, 'that people even of bad hearts +will admire and love people of good ones.' Very true!--and yet +admiration and love, in the sense before us, do not always shake +hands, except at parting, and with an intention never to meet again. I +have known women who professed to admire good men, but have chosen +to marry men--not so good, when lovers of both sorts have tendered +themselves to their acceptance. There is something very pretty in the +sound of the word wild, added to the word fellow; and good sense is +a very grateful victim to be sacrificed on the altar of love. Fervour +and extravagance in expressions will please. How shall a woman, +who, moreover, loves to be admired, know a man's heart, but from +his lips?--Let him find flattery, and she will find credulity. Sweet +souls! can they be always contradicting? + +You believe it is not in human nature, however depraved, to prefer +evil to good in another, whatever people may do in themselves. Why, no +one would really think so, did not experience convince us that many, +very many young women, in the article of marriage, though not before +thought to be very depraved, are taken by this green sickness of the +soul, and prefer dirt and rubbish to wholesome diet. The result of the +matter is this, with very many young women: they will admire a good +man, but they will marry a bad one. Are not rakes pretty fellows? + +But one thing let me add, to comfort you in relation to Harriet's +difficulties: I intend to make her shine by her cordial approbation, +as she goes along, of every good action of her beloved. She is +humbled by her love (suspense in love is a mortifier) to think herself +inferior to his sisters; but I intend to raise her above them, even +in her own just opinion; and when she shines out the girl worthy of +a man, not exalt, but reward her, and at the same time make him think +himself highly rewarded by the love of so frank and so right an heart. + +There now!--Will that do, my Miss Mulso? + +I laid indeed a heavy hand on the good Clarissa. But I had begun with +her, with a view to the future saint in her character; and could she, +but by sufferings, shine as she does? + +Do you, my dear child, look upon me as your paternal friend. + + + + +LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU + +1689-1762 + + + +TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR + +_The Viennese court_ + + +Vienna, 14 _Sept_. o.s. [1716]. + +Though I have so lately troubled you, my dear sister, with a long +letter, yet I will keep my promise in giving you an account of my +first going to court. + +In order to that ceremony, I was squeezed up in a gown, and adorned +with a gorget and the other implements thereunto belonging: a dress +very inconvenient, but which certainly shews the neck and shape +to great advantage. I cannot forbear in this place giving you some +description of the fashions here, which are more monstrous and +contrary to all common sense and reason, than 'tis possible for you +to imagine. They build certain fabrics of gauze on their heads about +a yard high, consisting of three or four stories, fortified with +numberless yards of heavy ribbon. The foundation of this structure is +a thing they call a _Bourle_, which is exactly of the same shape +and kind, but about four times as big, as those rolls our prudent +milk-maids make use of to fix their pails upon. This machine they +cover with their own hair, which they mix with a great deal of false, +it being a particular beauty to have their heads too large to go into +a moderate tub. Their hair is prodigiously powdered, to conceal the +mixture, and set out with three or four rows of bodkins (wonderfully +large, that stick two or three inches from their hair), made of +diamonds, pearls, red, green, and yellow stones, that it certainly +requires as much art and experience to carry the load upright, as to +dance upon May-day with the garland. Their whalebone petticoats outdo +ours by several yards circumference, and cover some acres of ground. + +You may easily suppose how much this extraordinary dress sets off and +improves the natural ugliness with which God Almighty has been pleased +to endow them all generally. Even the lovely empress herself is +obliged to comply, in some degree, with these absurd fashions, which +they would not quit for all the world. I had a private audience +(according to ceremony) of half an hour, and then all the other ladies +were permitted to come make their court. I was perfectly charmed +with the empress: I cannot, however, tell you that her features are +regular; her eyes are not large, but have a lively look, full of +sweetness; her complexion the finest I ever saw; her nose and forehead +well-made, but her mouth has ten thousand charms that touch the +soul. When she smiles, 'tis with a beauty and sweetness that force +adoration. She has a vast quantity of fine fair hair; but then her +person!--one must speak of it poetically to do it rigid justice; all +that the poets have said of the mien of Juno, the air of Venus, comes +not up to the truth. The Graces move with her; the famous statue of +Medicis was not formed with more delicate proportion; nothing can be +added to the beauty of her neck and hands. Till I saw them, I did not +believe there were any in nature so perfect, and I was almost sorry +that my rank here did not permit me to kiss them; but they are kissed +sufficiently; for every body that waits on her pays that homage at +their entrance, and when they take leave. + +When the ladies were come in, she sat down to Quinze. I could not play +at a game I had never seen before, and she ordered me a seat at her +right hand, and had the goodness to talk to me very much, with that +grace so natural to her. I expected every moment when the men were to +come in to pay their court; but this drawing-room is very different +from that of England; no man enters it but the old grand-master, who +comes in to advertize the empress of the approach of the emperor. +His imperial majesty did me the honour of speaking to me in a very +obliging manner; but he never speaks to any of the other ladies; and +the whole passes with a gravity and air of ceremony that has something +very formal in it. + +The empress Amelia, dowager of the late emperor Joseph, came +this evening to wait on the reigning empress, followed by the two +archduchesses her daughters, who are very agreeable young princesses. +Their imperial majesties rise and go to meet her at the door of the +room, after which she is seated in an armed chair, next the empress, +and in the same manner at supper, and there the men had the permission +of paying their Court. The archduchesses sit on chairs with backs +without arms. The table is entirely served, and all the dishes set on +by the empress's maids of honour, which are twelve young ladies of the +first quality. They have no salary, but their chambers at court, where +they live in a sort of confinement, not being suffered to go to the +assemblies or public places in town, except in compliment to the +wedding of a sister maid, whom the empress always presents with her +picture set in diamonds. The three first of them are called _Ladies +of the Key_, and wear gold keys by their sides; but what I find most +pleasant, is the custom which obliges them, as long as they live, +after they have left the empress's service, to make her some present +every year on the day of her feast. Her majesty is served by no +married women but the _grande maîtresse_, who is generally a widow of +the first quality, always very old, and is at the same time groom of +the stole, and mother of the maids. The dresses are not at all in the +figure they pretend to in England, being looked upon no otherwise than +as downright chambermaids. + +I had audience next day of the empress mother, a princess of great +virtue and goodness, but who piques herself so much on a violent +devotion; she is perpetually performing extraordinary acts of penance, +without having ever done anything to deserve them. She has the same +number of maids of honour, whom she suffers to go in colours; but she +herself never quits her mourning; and sure nothing can be more dismal +than the mourning here, even for a brother. There is not the least bit +of linen to be seen; all black crape instead of it. The neck, ears, +and side of the face covered with a plaited piece of the same stuff, +and the face that peeps out in the midst of it, looks as if it were +pilloried. The widows wear, over and above, a crape forehead cloth; +and in this solemn weed go to all the public places of diversion +without scruple. The next day I was to wait on the empress Amelia, who +is now at her palace of retirement half a mile from the town. I had +there the pleasure of seeing a diversion wholly new to me, but which +is the common amusement of this court. The empress herself was seated +on a little throne at the end of a fine alley in the garden, and on +each side of her were ranged two parties of her ladies of honour with +other young ladies of quality, headed by the two young archduchesses, +all dressed in their hair full of jewels, with fine light guns in +their hands; and at proper distances were placed three oval pictures, +which were the marks to be shot at. The first was that of a CUPID, +filling a bumper of Burgundy, and this motto, '_Tis easy to be valiant +here_. The second a FORTUNE, holding a garland in her hand, the motto, +_For her whom Fortune favours_. The third was a SWORD, with a laurel +wreath on the point, the motto, _Here is no shame to the vanquished_. +Near the empress was a gilded trophy wreathed with flowers, and made +of little crooks, on which were hung rich Turkish handkerchiefs, +tippets, ribbons, laces, etc., for the small prizes. The empress gave +the first with her own hand, which was a fine ruby ring set round +with diamonds, in a gold snuff-box. There was for the second, a little +Cupid set with brilliants; and besides these, a set of fine china for +a tea-table enchased in gold, japan trunks, fans, and many gallantries +of the same nature. All the men of quality at Vienna were spectators; +but only the ladies had permission to shoot, and the Archduchess +Amelia carried off the first prize. I was very well pleased with +having seen this entertainment, and I do not know but it might make as +good a figure as the prize-shooting in the _Eneid_, if I could write +as well as Virgil. This is the favourite pleasure of the emperor, and +there is rarely a week without some feast of this kind, which makes +the young ladies skilful enough to defend a fort, and they laughed +very much to see me afraid to handle a gun. + +My dear sister, you will easily pardon an abrupt conclusion. I +believe, by this time, you are ready to fear I would never conclude at +all. + + + +To MRS. SARAH CHISWELL + +_Ingrafting for small-pox_ + + +Adrianople, 1 _April_, O.S. [1717]. + +In my opinion, dear S., I ought rather to quarrel with you for not +answering my Nimeguen letter of August till December, than to excuse +my not writing again till now. I am sure there is on my side a very +good excuse for silence, having gone such tiresome land-journeys, +though I don't find the conclusion of them so bad as you seem to +imagine. I am very easy here, and not in the solitude you fancy me. +The great number of Greek, French, English, and Italians, that are +under our protection, make their court to me from morning till night; +and, I'll assure you, are many of them very fine ladies; for there is +no possibility for a Christian to live easily under this government +but by the protection of an embassador--and the richer they are, the +greater their danger. + +Those dreadful stories you have heard of the plague have very little +foundation in truth. I own I have much ado to reconcile myself to the +sound of a word which has always given me such terrible ideas, though +I am convinced there is little more in it than a fever. As a proof we +passed through two or three towns most violently infected. In the +very next house where we lay (in one of them) two persons died of it. +Luckily for me, I knew nothing of the matter; and I was made believe, +that our second cook who fell ill here, had only a great cold. +However, we left our doctor to take care of him, and yesterday they +both arrived here in good health; and now I am let into the secret +that he has had the _plague_. There are many that escape it; neither +is the air ever infected. I am persuaded that it would be as easy to +root it out here as out of Italy and France; but it does so little +mischief, they are not very solicitous about it, and are content to +suffer this distemper instead of our variety, which they are utterly +unacquainted with. + +_A propos_ of distempers: I am going to tell you a thing that I am +sure will make you wish yourself here. The small-pox, so fatal and +so general among us, is here entirely harmless by the invention of +_ingrafting_, which is the term they give it. There is a set of +old women who make it their business to perform the operation every +autumn, in the month of September, when the great heat is abated. +People send to one another to know if any of their family has a mind +to have the small-pox: they make parties for this purpose, and when +they are met (commonly fifteen or sixteen together) the old woman +comes with a nut-shell full of the matter of the best sort of +small-pox, and asks what veins you please to have opened. She +immediately rips open that you offer to her with a large needle (which +gives you no more pain than a common scratch), and puts into the vein +as much venom as can lie upon the head of her needle, and after that +binds up the little wound with a hollow bit of shell; and in this +manner opens four or five veins. The Grecians have commonly the +superstition of opening one in the middle of the forehead, in each +arm, and on the breast, to mark the sign of the cross; but this has +a very ill effect, all these wounds leaving little scars, and is not +done by those that are not superstitious, who choose to have them in +the legs, or that part of the arm that is concealed. The children +or young patients play together all the rest of the day, and are in +perfect health to the eighth. Then the fever begins to seize them, +and they keep their beds two days, very seldom three. They have very +rarely above twenty or thirty in their faces, which never mark; and in +eight days' time they are as well as before their illness. Where they +are wounded, there remain running sores during the distemper, which I +don't doubt is a great relief to it. Every year thousands undergo this +operation; and the French embassador says pleasantly, that they take +the small-pox here by way of diversion, as they take the waters in +other countries. There is no example of any one that has died in it; +and you may believe I am very well satisfied of the safety of the +experiment, since I intend to try it on my dear little son. + +I am patriot enough to take pains to bring this useful invention into +fashion in England; and I should not fail to write to some of our +doctors very particularly about it, if I knew any one of them that +I thought had virtue enough to destroy such a considerable branch +of their revenue for the good of mankind. But that distemper is too +beneficial to them not to expose to all their resentment the hardy +wight that should undertake to put an end to it. Perhaps, if I live +to return, I may, however, have courage to war with them. Upon this +occasion admire the heroism in the heart of your friend. + + + + +TO THE COUNTESS OF BRISTOL + +_The Grand Signior a slave_ + + +Adrianople, 1 _April_, o.s. 1717. + +As I never can forget the smallest of your ladyship's commands, my +first business here has been to inquire after the stuffs you ordered +me to look for, without being able to find what you would like. The +difference of the dress here and at London is so great, the same sort +of things are not proper for _caftans_ and _manteaus_. However, I will +not give over my search, but renew it again at Constantinople, though +I have reason to believe there is nothing finer than what is to +be found here, being the present residence of the court. The Grand +Signior's eldest daughter was married some few days before I came; and +upon that occasion the Turkish ladies display all their magnificence. +The bride was conducted to her husband's house in very great +splendour. She is widow of the late Vizier, who was killed at +Peterwaradin, though that ought rather to be called a contract than a +marriage, not having ever lived with him: however, the greatest part +of his wealth is hers. He had the permission of visiting her in the +seraglio; and, being one of the handsomest men in the empire, had very +much engaged her affections.--When she saw this second husband, who is +at least fifty, she could not forbear bursting into tears. He is a man +of merit, and the declared favourite of the Sultan (which they call +_mosáyp_); but that is not enough to make him pleasing in the eyes of +a girl of thirteen. + +The government here is entirely in the hands of the army: and the +Grand Signior, with all his absolute power, as much a slave as any of +his subjects, and trembles at a janissary's frown. Here is, indeed, +a much greater appearance of subjection than among us: a minister of +state is not spoken to, but upon the knee; should a reflection on his +conduct be dropped in a coffee-house (for they have spies everywhere), +the house would be razed to the ground, and perhaps the whole company +put to the torture. No huzzaing mobs, senseless pamphlets, and tavern +disputes about politics: + + A consequential ill that freedom draws; + A bad effect,--but from a noble cause. + +None of our harmless calling names! but when a minister here +displeases the people, in three hours' time he is dragged even from +his master's arms. They cut off his hands, head, and feet, and throw +them before the palace gate, with all the respect in the world; while +that Sultan (to whom they all profess an unlimited adoration) sits +trembling in his apartment, and dare neither defend nor revenge his +favourite. This is the blessed condition of the most absolute monarch +upon earth, who owns no _law_ but his _will_. I cannot help wishing, +in the loyalty of my heart, that the parliament would send hither a +ship-load of your passive-obedient men, that they might see arbitrary +government in its clearest strongest light, where it is hard to judge +whether the prince, people, or ministers, are most miserable. I could +make many reflections on this subject; but I know, madam, your own +good sense has already furnished you with better than I am capable of. + +I went yesterday with the French embassadors to see the Grand Signior +in his passage to the mosque. He was preceded by a numerous guard of +janissaries, with vast white feathers on their heads, _spahis_ +and _bostangees_ (these are foot and horse guards), and the royal +gardeners, which are a very considerable body of men, dressed in +different habits of fine lively colours, that, at a distance, +they appeared like a parterre of tulips. After them the aga of the +janissaries, in a robe of purple velvet, lined with silver tissue, +his horse led by two slaves richly dressed. Next him the _Kyzlár-aga_ +(your ladyship knows this is the chief guardian of the seraglio +ladies) in a deep yellow cloth (which suited very well to his black +face) lined with sables, and last his Sublimity himself, in green +lined with the fur of a black Muscovite fox, which is supposed worth +a thousand pounds sterling, mounted on a fine horse, with furniture +embroidered with jewels. Six more horses richly furnished were led +after him; and two of his principal courtiers bore, one his gold, and +the other his silver coffee-pot, on a staff; another carried a silver +stool on his head for him to sit on. + +It would be too tedious to tell your ladyship the various dresses +and turbans by which their rank is distinguished; but they were +all extremely rich and gay, to the number of some thousands; that, +perhaps, there cannot be seen a more beautiful procession. The Sultan +appeared to us a handsome man of about forty, with a very graceful +air, but something severe in his countenance, his eyes very full and +black. He happened to stop under the window where we stood, and (I +suppose being told who we were) looked upon us very attentively, +that we had full leisure to consider him, and the French embassadress +agreed with me as to his good mien: I see that lady very often; she is +young, and her conversation would be a great relief to me, if I could +persuade her to live without those forms and ceremonies that make +life formal and tiresome. But she is so delighted with her guards, her +four-and-twenty footmen, gentlemen ushers, etc., that she would rather +die than make me a visit without them: not to reckon a coachful of +attending damsels yclep'd maids of honour. What vexes me is, that as +long as she will visit with a troublesome equipage, I am obliged to do +the same: however, our mutual interest makes us much together. + +I went with her the other day all round the town, in an open gilt +chariot, with our joint train of attendants, preceded by our guards, +who might have summoned the people to see what they had never seen, +nor ever would see again--two young Christian embassadresses never yet +having been in this country at the same time, nor I believe ever will +again. Your ladyship may easily imagine that we drew a vast crowd +of spectators, but all silent as death. If any of them had taken the +liberties of our mob upon any strange sight, our janissaries had made +no scruple of falling on them with their scimitars, without danger for +so doing, being above law. + +Yet these people have some good qualities; they are very zealous and +faithful where they serve, and look upon it as their business to fight +for you upon all occasions. Of this I had a very pleasant instance in +a village on this side Philipopolis, where we were met by our domestic +guard. I happened to bespeak pigeons for my supper, upon which one of +my janissaries went immediately to the Cadi (the chief civil officer +of the town), and ordered him to send in some dozens. The poor man +answered that he had already sent about, but could get none. My +janissary, in the height of his zeal for my service, immediately +locked him up prisoner in his room, telling him he deserved death for +his impudence, in offering to excuse his not obeying my command; but, +out of respect to me, he would not punish him but by my order, and +accordingly, came very gravely to me, to ask what should be done to +him; adding, by way of compliment, that if I pleased he would bring me +his head. This may give you some idea of the unlimited power of these +fellows, who are all sworn brothers, and bound to revenge the injuries +done to one another, whether at Cairo, Aleppo, or any part of the +world; and this inviolable league makes them so powerful, that the +greatest man at court never speaks to them but in a flattering +tone; and in Asia, any man that is rich is forced to enrol himself a +janissary, to secure his estate. + +But I have already said enough; and I dare swear, dear madam, that, by +this time, 'tis a very comfortable reflection to you that there is no +possibility of your receiving such a tedious letter but once in +six months; 'tis that consideration has given me the assurance to +entertain you so long, and will, I hope, plead the excuse of, dear +madam, &c. + + + +To THE COUNTESS OF MAR + +_The Grand Vizier's lady_ + + +Adrianople, 18 _April_, O.S. [1717]. + +I wrote to you, dear sister, and to all my other English +correspondents, by the last ship, and only Heaven can tell when I +shall have another opportunity of sending to you; but I cannot forbear +writing, though perhaps my letter may lie upon my hands this two +months. To confess the truth, my head is so full of my entertainment +yesterday, that 'tis absolutely necessary for my own repose to give it +some vent. Without farther preface, I will then begin my story. I was +invited to dine with the Grand Vizier's lady, and it was with a great +deal of pleasure I prepared myself for an entertainment which was +never given before to any Christian. I thought I should very little +satisfy her curiosity (which I did not doubt was a considerable +motive to the invitation) by going in a dress she was used to see, and +therefore dressed myself in the court habit of Vienna, which is much +more magnificent than ours. However, I chose to go _incognita_, to +avoid any disputes about ceremony, and went in a Turkish coach, only +attended by my woman that held up my train, and the Greek lady who was +my interpretress. I was met at the court door by her black eunuch, +who helped me out of the coach with great respect, and conducted me +through several rooms, where her she-slaves, finely dressed, were +ranged on each side. In the innermost I found the lady sitting on her +sofa, in a sable vest. She advanced to meet me, and presented me half +a dozen of her friends with great civility. She seemed a very good +woman, near fifty years old. I was surprised to observe so little +magnificence in her house, the furniture being all very moderate; and +except the habits and number of her slaves, nothing about her that +appeared expensive. She guessed at my thoughts, and told me that +she was no longer of an age to spend either her time or money in +superfluities; that her whole expense was in charity, and her whole +employment praying to God. There was no affectation in this speech; +both she and her husband are entirely given up to devotion. He never +looks upon any other woman; and, what is much more extraordinary, +touches no bribes, notwithstanding the example of all his +predecessors. He is so scrupulous on this point, he would not accept +Mr. Wortley's present, till he had been assured over and over that +it was a settled perquisite of his place at the entrance of every +ambassador. + +She entertained me with all kind of civility till dinner came in, +which was served, one dish at a time, to a vast number, all finely +dressed after their manner, which I do not think so bad as you have +perhaps heard it represented. I am a very good judge of their eating, +having lived three weeks in the house of an _effendi_ at Belgrade, who +gave us very magnificent dinners, dressed by his own cooks, which the +first week pleased me extremely; but I own I then began to grow weary +of it, and desired our own cook might add a dish or two after our +manner. But I attribute this to custom. I am very much inclined to +believe an Indian, that had never tasted of either, would prefer their +cookery to ours. Their sauces are very high, all the roast very much +done. They use a great deal of rich spice. The soup is served for the +last dish; and they have at least as great variety of ragouts as we +have. I was very sorry I could not eat of as many as the good lady +would have had me, who was very earnest in serving me of everything. +The treat concluded with coffee and perfumes, which is a high mark +of respect; two slaves kneeling censed my hair, clothes, and +handkerchief. After this ceremony, she commanded her slaves to play +and dance, which they did with their guitars in their hands; and +she excused to me their want of skill, saying she took no care to +accomplish them in that art. + +I returned her thanks, and soon after took my leave. I was conducted +back in the same manner I entered; and would have gone straight to my +own house; but the Greek lady with me earnestly solicited me to visit +the _Kiyàya's_ lady, saying, he was the second officer in the empire, +and ought indeed to be looked upon as the first, the Grand Vizier +having only the name, while he exercised the authority. I had found so +little diversion in this harem, that I had no mind to go into another. +But her importunity prevailed with me, and I am extreme glad that I +was so complaisant. + +All things here were with quite another air than at the Grand +Vizier's; and the very house confessed the difference between an old +devotee and a young beauty. It was nicely clean and magnificent. I +was met at the door by two black eunuchs, who led me through a long +gallery between two ranks of beautiful young girls, with their hair +finely plaited, almost hanging to their feet, all dressed in fine +light damasks, brocaded with silver. I was sorry that decency did not +permit me to stop to consider them nearer. But that thought was lost +upon my entrance into a large room, or rather pavilion, built round +with gilded sashes, which were most of them thrown up, and the trees +planted near them gave an agreeable shade, which hindered the sun from +being troublesome. The jessamines and honeysuckles that twisted round +their trunks, shedding a soft perfume, increased by a white marble +fountain playing sweet water in the lower part of the room, which fell +into three or four basins with a pleasing sound. The roof was painted +with all sort of flowers, falling out of gilded baskets, that seemed +tumbling down. On a sofa, raised three steps, and covered with fine +Persian carpets, sat the _Kiyàya's_ lady, leaning on cushions of white +satin, embroidered; and at her feet sat two young girls, the eldest +about twelve years old, lovely as angels, dressed perfectly rich, and +almost covered with jewels. But they were hardly seen near the fair +Fatima (for that is her name), so much her beauty effaced every thing +I have seen, all that has been called lovely either in England +or Germany, and must own that I never saw any thing so gloriously +beautiful, nor can I recollect a face that would have been taken +notice of near hers. She stood up to receive me, saluting me after +their fashion, putting her hand upon her heart with a sweetness +full of majesty, that no court breeding could ever give. She ordered +cushions to be given to me, and took care to place me in the corner, +which is the place of honour. I confess, though the Greek lady had +before given me a great opinion of her beauty, I was so struck with +admiration, that I could not for some time speak to her, being wholly +taken up in gazing. That surprising harmony of features! that charming +result of the whole! that exact proportion of body! that lovely bloom +of complexion unsullied by art! the unutterable enchantment of her +smile!--But her eyes!--large and black, with all the soft languishment +of the blue! every turn of her face discovering some new charm. + +After my first surprise was over, I endeavoured, by nicely examining +her face, to find out some imperfection, without any fruit of my +search, but being clearly convinced of the error of that vulgar +notion, that a face perfectly regular would not be agreeable: nature +having done for her with more success, what Apelles is said to have +essayed, by a collection of the most exact features, to form a perfect +face, and to that, a behaviour, so full of grace and sweetness, such +easy motions, with an air so majestic, yet free from stiffness or +affectation, that I am persuaded, could she be suddenly transported +upon the most polite throne of Europe, nobody would think her other +than born and bred to be a queen, though educated in a country we call +barbarous. To say all in a word, our most celebrated English beauties +would vanish near her. + +She was dressed in a _caftán_ of gold brocade, flowered with silver, +very well fitted to her shape, and shewing to advantage the beauty +of her bosom, only shaded by the thin guaze of her shift. Her +drawers were pale pink, green and silver, her slippers white, finely +embroidered; her lovely arms adorned with bracelets of diamonds, and +her broad girdle set round with diamonds; upon her head a rich Turkish +handkerchief of pink and silver, her own fine black hair hanging a +great length in various tresses, and on one side of her head some +bodkins of jewels. I am afraid you will accuse me of extravagance +in this description. I think I have read somewhere that women always +speak in rapture when they speak of beauty, but I cannot imagine why +they should not be allowed to do so. I rather think it virtue to be +able to admire without any mixture of desire or envy. The gravest +writers have spoken with great warmth of some celebrated pictures +and statues. The workmanship of Heaven certainly excels all our weak +imitations, and, I think, has a much better claim to our praise. For +me, I am not ashamed to own I took more pleasure in looking on the +beauteous Fatima, than the finest piece of sculpture could have given +me. + +She told me the two girls at her feet were her daughters, though she +appeared too young to be their mother. Her fair maids were ranged +below the sofa, to the number of twenty, and put me in mind of the +pictures of the ancient nymphs. I did not think all nature could have +furnished such a scene of beauty. She made them a sign to play and +dance. Four of them immediately began to play some soft airs on +instruments between a lute and a guitar, which they accompanied +with their voices, while the others danced by turns. This dance +was very different from what I had seen before. Nothing could +be more artful.... The tunes so soft!--the motions so +languishing!--accompanied with pauses and dying eyes! half-falling +back, and then recovering themselves in so artful a manner.... I +suppose you may have read that the Turks have no music but what is +shocking to the ears; but this account is from those who never heard +any, but what is played in the streets, and is just as reasonable as +if a foreigner should take his ideas of the English music from the +bladder and string, and marrowbone and cleavers. I can assure you that +the music is extremely pathetic; 'tis true I am inclined to prefer the +Italian, but perhaps I am partial. I am acquainted with a Greek lady +who sings better than Mrs. Robinson, and is very well skilled in both, +who gives the preference to the Turkish. 'Tis certain they have very +fine natural voices; these were very agreeable. When the dance was +over, four fair slaves came into the room with silver censers in their +hands, and perfumed the room with amber, aloes-wood, and other scents. +After this they served me coffee upon their knees in the finest japan +china, with _soucoupes_ of silver, gilt. The lovely Fatima entertained +me all this while in the most polite agreeable manner, calling me +often _Guzél sultanum_, or the beautiful sultana, and desiring my +friendship with the best grace in the world, lamenting that she could +not entertain me in my own language. + +When I took my leave, two maids brought in a fine silver basket of +embroidered handkerchiefs; she begged I would wear the richest for her +sake, and gave the others to my woman and interpretress. I returned +through the same ceremonies as before, and could not help fancying I +had been some time in Mahomet's paradise, so much I was charmed with +what I had seen. I know not how the relation of it appears to you. +I wish it may give you part of my pleasure; for I would have my dear +sister share in all the diversions of, &c. + + + +To THE COUNTESS OF BUTE + +_Her grand-daughter's education_ + + +28 _Jan_. N.S. [1753]. + +Dear child, + +You have given me a great deal of satisfaction by your account of +your eldest daughter. I am particularly pleased to hear she is a good +arithmetician; it is the best proof of understanding: the knowledge of +numbers is one of the chief distinctions between us and the brutes. +If there is anything in blood, you may reasonably expect your children +should be endowed with an uncommon share of good sense. Mr. Wortley's +family and mine have both produced some of the greatest men that have +been born in England: I mean Admiral Sandwich, and my grandfather, +who was distinguished by the name of Wise William. I have heard Lord +Bute's father mentioned as an extraordinary genius, though he had not +many opportunities of showing it; and his uncle, the present Duke of +Argyll, has one of the best heads I ever knew. I will therefore +speak to you as supposing Lady Mary not only capable, but desirous +of learning: in that case by all means let her be indulged in it. You +will tell me I did not make it a part of your education: your prospect +was very different from hers. As you had no defect either in mind +or person to hinder, and much in your circumstances to attract the +highest offers, it seemed your business to learn how to live in the +world, as it is hers to know how to be easy out of it. It is the +common error of builders and parents to follow some plan they think +beautiful (and perhaps is so), without considering that nothing is +beautiful that is displaced. Hence we see so many edifices raised that +the raisers can never inhabit, being too large for their fortunes. +Vistas are laid open over barren heaths, and apartments contrived +for a coolness very agreeable in Italy, but killing in the north of +Britain: thus every woman endeavours to breed her daughter a fine +lady, qualifying her for a station in which she will never appear, and +at the same time incapacitating her for that retirement to which she +is destined. Learning, if she has a real taste for it, will not only +make her contented, but happy in it. No entertainment is so cheap as +reading, nor any pleasure so lasting. She will not want new fashions, +nor regret the loss of expensive diversions, or variety of company, +if she can be amused with an author in her closet. To render this +amusement extensive, she should be permitted to learn the languages. +I have heard it lamented that boys lose so many years in mere learning +of words: this is no objection to a girl, whose time is not so +precious: she cannot advance herself in any profession, and has +therefore more hours to spare; and as you say her memory is good, she +will be very agreeably employed this way. There are two cautions to +be given on this subject: first, not to think herself learned when +she can read Latin, or even Greek. Languages are more properly to be +called vehicles of learning than learning itself, as may be observed +in many schoolmasters, who, though perhaps critics in grammar, are the +most ignorant fellows upon earth. True knowledge consists in knowing +things, not words. I would wish her no further a linguist than to +enable her to read books in their originals, that are often corrupted, +and always injured, by translations. Two hours' application every +morning will bring this about much sooner than you can imagine, and +she will have leisure enough besides to run over the English poetry, +which is a more important part of a woman's education than it is +generally supposed. Many a young damsel has been ruined by a fine copy +of verses, which she would have laughed at if she had known it had +been stolen from Mr. Waller. I remember, when I was a girl, I saved +one of my companions from destruction, who communicated to me an +epistle she was quite charmed with. As she had a natural good taste, +she observed the lines were not so smooth as Prior's or Pope's, but +had more thought and spirit than any of theirs. She was wonderfully +delighted with such a demonstration of her lover's sense and passion, +and not a little pleased with her own charms, that had force enough +to inspire such elegancies. In the midst of this triumph I showed +her that they were taken from Randolph's poems, and the unfortunate +transcriber was dismissed with the scorn he deserved. To say truth, +the poor plagiary was very unlucky to fall into my hands; that +author being no longer in fashion, would have escaped any one of less +universal reading than myself. You should encourage your daughter to +talk over with you what she reads; and, as you are very capable of +distinguishing, take care she does not mistake pert folly for wit +and humour, or rhyme for poetry, which are the common errors of young +people, and have a train of ill consequences. The second caution to +be given her (and which is most absolutely necessary) is to conceal +whatever learning she attains, with as much solicitude as she would +hide crookedness or lameness; the parade of it can only serve to draw +on her the envy, and consequently the most inveterate hatred, of all +he and she fools, which will certainly be at least three parts in four +of all her acquaintance. The use of knowledge in our sex, besides the +amusement of solitude, is to moderate the passions, and learn to be +contented with a small expense, which are the certain effects of a +studious life; and it may be preferable even to that fame which men +have engrossed to themselves, and will not suffer us to share. +You will tell me I have not observed this rule myself; but you +are mistaken: it is only inevitable accident that has given me any +reputation that way. I have always carefully avoided it, and ever +thought it a misfortune. The explanation of this paragraph would +occasion a long digression, which I will not trouble you with, it +being my present design only to say what I think useful for the +instruction of my granddaughter, which I have much at heart. If she +has the same inclination (I should say passion) for learning that I +was born with, history, geography, and philosophy will furnish her +with materials to pass away cheerfully a longer life than is allotted +to mortals. I believe there are few heads capable of making Sir I. +Newton's calculations, but the result of them is not difficult to be +understood by a moderate capacity. Do not fear this should make her +affect the character of Lady----, or Lady----, or Mrs.----: those +women are ridiculous, not because they have learning, but because they +have it not. One thinks herself a complete historian, after reading +Echard's Roman History; another a profound philosopher, having got +by heart some of Pope's unintelligible essays; and a third an able +divine, on the strength of Whitefield's sermons: thus you hear them +screaming politics and controversy. + +It is a saying of Thucydides, ignorance is bold, and knowledge +reserved. Indeed, it is impossible to be far advanced in it without +being more humbled by a conviction of human ignorance than elated by +learning. At the same time I recommend books, I neither exclude work +nor drawing. I think it as scandalous for a woman not to know how to +use a needle, as for a man not to know how to use a sword. I was once +extremely fond of my pencil, and it was a great mortification to +me when my father turned off my master, having made a considerable +progress for a short time I learnt. My over-eagerness in the pursuit +of it had brought a weakness on my eyes, that made it necessary to +leave it off; and all the advantage I got was the improvement of my +hand. I see, by hers, that practice will make her a ready writer: +she may attain it by serving you for a secretary, when your health or +affairs make it troublesome to you to write yourself; and custom will +make it an agreeable amusement to her. She cannot have too many for +that station of life which will probably be her fate. The ultimate end +of your education was to make you a good wife (and I have the comfort +to hear that you are one): hers ought to be, to make her happy in +a virgin state. I will not say it is happier; but it is undoubtedly +safer than any marriage. In a lottery, where there are (at the lowest +computation) ten thousand blanks to a prize, it is the most prudent +choice not to venture. I have always been so thoroughly persuaded of +this truth, that, notwithstanding the flattering views I had for you +(as I never intended you a sacrifice to my vanity), I thought I owed +you the justice to lay before you all the hazards attending matrimony: +you may recollect I did so in the strongest manner. Perhaps you may +have more success in the instructing your daughter: she has so much +company at home, she will not need seeking it abroad, and will more +readily take the notions you think fit to give her. As you were alone +in my family, it would have been thought a great cruelty to suffer +you no companions of your own age, especially having so many near +relations, and I do not wonder their opinions influenced yours. I was +not sorry to see you not determined on a single life, knowing it was +not your father's intention, and contented myself with endeavouring to +make your home so easy that you might not be in haste to leave it. + +I am afraid you will think this a very long and insignificant letter. +I hope the kindness of the design will excuse it, being willing to +give you every proof in my power that I am, + +Your most affectionate mother. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Fielding and other authors_ + + +Lovere, 22 _Sept_. [1755]. + +MY DEAR CHILD, + +I received, two days ago, the box of books you were so kind to +send; but I can scarce say whether my pleasure or disappointment was +greatest. I was much pleased to see before me a fund of amusement, but +heartily vexed to find your letter consisting only of three lines +and a half. Why will you not employ Lady Mary as secretary, if it is +troublesome to you to write? I have told you over and over, you may at +the same time oblige your mother and improve your daughter, both +which I should think very agreeable to yourself. You can never want +something to say. The history of your nursery, if you had no other +subject to write on, would be very acceptable to me. I am such a +stranger to everything in England, I should be glad to hear more +particulars relating to the families I am acquainted with: if +Miss Liddel marries the Lord Euston I knew, or his nephew, who has +succeeded him; if Lord Berkeley has left children; and several trifles +of that sort, that would be a satisfaction to my curiosity. I am +sorry for H. Fielding's death, not only as I shall read no more of his +writings, but I believe he lost more than others, as no man enjoyed +life more than he did, though few had less reason to do so, the +highest of his preferment being raking in the lowest sinks of vice and +misery. I should think it a nobler and less nauseous employment to +be one of the staff officers that conduct the nocturnal weddings. +His happy constitution (even when he had, with great pains, half +demolished it) made him forget everything when he was before a venison +pasty, or over a flask of champagne; and I am persuaded he has known +more happy moments than any prince upon earth. His natural spirits +gave him rapture with his cook-maid, and cheerfulness when he was +starving in a garret. There was a great similitude between his +character and that of Sir Richard Steele. He had the advantage both +in learning, and, in my opinion, genius: they both agreed in wanting +money in spite of all their friends, and would have wanted it, if +their hereditary lands had been as extensive as their imagination; +yet each one of them so formed for happiness, it is a pity he was not +immortal.... This Richardson is a strange fellow. I heartily +despise him, and eagerly read him, nay, sob over his works in a most +scandalous manner. The first two tomes of _Clarissa_ touched me, as +being very resembling to my maiden days; and I find in the pictures of +Sir Thomas Grandison and his lady, what I have heard of my mother, and +seen of my father.... + + + + +PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE, EARL + OF CHESTERFIELD + +1694-1773 + + + +TO HIS SON + +_Dancing_ + + +Dublin Castle, 29 _Nov_. 1745. + +DEAR BOY, + +I have received your last Saturday's performance, with which I am very +well satisfied. I know or have heard of no Mr. St. Maurice here; and +young Pain, whom I have made an ensign, was here upon the spot, as +were every one of those I have named in these new levies. + +Now that the Christmas breaking-up draws near, I have ordered Mr. +Desnoyers to go to you, during that time, to teach you to dance. I +desire that you will particularly attend to the graceful motion of +your arms; which with the manner of putting on your hat, and giving +your hand, is all that a gentleman need attend to. Dancing is +in itself a very trifling, silly thing; but it is one of those +established follies to which people of sense are sometimes obliged +to conform; and then they should be able to do it well. And though I +would not have you a dancer, yet when you do dance, I would have you +dance well; as I would have you do everything you do, well. There is +no one thing so trifling, but which (if it is to be done at all) ought +to be done well; and I have often told you that I wish you even +played at pitch, and cricket, better than any boy at Westminster. For +instance, dress is a very foolish thing; and yet it is a very foolish +thing for a man not to be well dressed, according to his rank and +way of life; and it is so far from being a disparagement to any man's +understanding, that it is rather a proof of it, to be as well dressed +as those whom he lives with: the difference in this case between a man +of sense and a fop is, that the fop values himself upon his dress; and +the man of sense laughs at it, at the same time that he knows he must +not neglect it. There are a thousand foolish customs of this kind, +which not being criminal, must be complied with, and even cheerfully, +by men of sense. Diogenes the cynic was a wise man for despising them; +but a fool for showing it. Be wiser than other people if you can; but +do not tell them so. + +It is a very fortunate thing for Sir Charles Hotham, to have fallen +into the hands of one of your age, experience, and knowledge of the +world: I am persuaded you will take infinite care of him. Goodnight. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A good enunciation_ + + +London, 21 _June_, O.S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY, + +Your very bad enunciation runs so much in my head, and gives me such +real concern, that it will be the object of this, and I believe of +many more letters. I congratulate both you and myself that I was +informed of it (as I hope) in time to prevent it; and shall ever think +myself, as hereafter you will, I am sure, think yourself, infinitely +obliged to Sir Charles Williams, for informing me of it. Good God! +if this ungraceful and disagreeable manner of speaking had, either +by your negligence or mine, become habitual to you, as in a couple of +years more it would have been, what a figure would you have made in +company, or in a public assembly! Who would have liked you in the one, +or have attended to you in the other? Read what Cicero and Quintilian +say of enunciation, and see what a stress they lay on the gracefulness +of it; nay, Cicero goes farther, and even maintains that a good figure +is necessary for an orator, and particularly that he must not be +_vastus_; that is, overgrown and clumsy. He shows by it that he +knew mankind well, and knew the powers of an agreeable figure and a +graceful manner. Men, as well as women, are much oftener led by their +hearts, than by their understandings. The way to the heart is through +the senses; please their eyes and their ears, and the work is half +done. I have frequently known a man's fortune decided for ever by his +first address. If it is pleasing, people are hurried involuntarily +into persuasion that he has a merit, which possibly he has not; as, on +the other hand, if it is ungraceful, they are immediately prejudiced +against him, and unwilling to allow him the merit which it may be +he has. Nor is this sentiment so unjust and unreasonable as at first +sight it may seem; for if a man has parts, he must know of what +infinite consequence it is to him to have a graceful manner of +speaking, and a genteel and pleasing address: he will cultivate and +improve them to the utmost. Your figure is a good one; you have no +natural defects in the organs of speech; your address may be engaging, +and your manner of speaking graceful, if you will; so that, if they +are not so, neither I nor the world can ascribe it to anything but +your want of parts. What is the constant and just observation as to +all the actors upon the stage? Is it not, that those who have the best +sense always speak the best, though they may not happen to have the +best voices? They will speak plainly, distinctly, and with the proper +emphasis, be their voices ever so bad. Had Roscius spoken quick, +thick, and ungracefully, I will answer for it, that Cicero would not +have thought him worth the oration which he made in his favour. Words +were given us to communicate our ideas by, and there must be something +inconceivably absurd in uttering them in such a manner, as that either +people cannot understand them, or will not desire to understand them. +I tell you truly and sincerely, that I shall judge of your parts by +your speaking gracefully or ungracefully. If you have parts, you will +never be at rest till you have brought yourself to a habit of speaking +most gracefully: for I aver, that it is in your power. You will desire +Mr. Harte, that you may read aloud to him every day, and that he will +interrupt and correct you every time that you read too fast, do not +observe the proper stops, or lay a wrong emphasis. You will take care +to open your teeth when you speak; to articulate very distinctly; and +to beg of Mr. Harte, Mr. Eliot, or whomever you speak to, to remind +and stop you, if ever you fall into the rapid and unintelligible +mutter. You will even read aloud to yourself, and tune your utterance +to your own ear, and read at first much slower than you need to do, +in order to correct yourself of that shameful trick of speaking faster +than you ought. In short, if you think right, you will make it your +business, your study, and your pleasure to speak well. Therefore, what +I have said in this and in my last, is more than sufficient, if you +have sense; and ten times more would not be sufficient if you have +not: so here I rest it. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Keeping accounts_ + + +London, 10 _Jan._ O.S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY, + +I have received your letter of the 31st December, N.S. Your thanks for +my present, as you call it, exceed the value of the present; but the +use which you assure me that you will make of it, is the thanks which +I desire to receive. Due attention to the inside of books, and due +contempt for the outside, is the proper relation between a man of +sense and his books. + +Now that you are going a little more into the world, I will take this +occasion to explain my intentions as to your future expenses, that +you may know what you have to expect from me, and make your plan +accordingly. I shall neither deny nor grudge you any money that may +be necessary for either your improvement or pleasures; I mean the +pleasures of a rational being. Under the head of improvement I mean +the best books, and the best masters, cost what they will; I also +mean all the expense of lodgings, coach, dress, servants, &c., +which, according to the several places where you may be, shall be +respectively necessary to enable you to keep the best company. Under +the head of rational pleasures I comprehend, first, proper charities +to real and compassionate objects of it; secondly, proper presents to +those to whom you are obliged, or whom you desire to oblige; thirdly, +a conformity of expense to that of the company which you keep; as in +public spectacles, your share of little entertainments, a few pistoles +at games of mere commerce, and other incidental calls of good company. +The only two articles which I will never supply are, the profusion of +low riot, and the idle lavishness of negligence and laziness. A fool +squanders away, without credit or advantage to himself, more than a +man of sense spends with both. The latter employs his money as he does +his time, and never spends a shilling of the one, nor a minute of the +other, but in something that is either useful or rationally pleasing +to himself or others. The former buys whatever he does not want, and +does not pay for what he does want. He cannot withstand the charms +of a toy-shop; snuff-boxes, watches, heads of canes, etc., are +his destruction. His servants and tradesmen conspire with his own +indolence to cheat him, and in a very little time he is astonished, in +the midst of all the ridiculous superfluities, to find himself in want +of all the real comforts and necessaries of life. Without care and +method the largest fortune will not, and with them almost the smallest +will, supply all necessary expenses. As far as you can possibly, pay +ready money for everything you buy, and avoid bills. Pay that money +too yourself, and not through the hands of any servant, who always +either stipulates poundage, or requires a present for his good word, +as they call it. Where you must have bills, (as for meat and drink, +clothes, etc.) pay them regularly every month, and with your own hand. +Never, from a mistaken economy, buy a thing you do not want, because +it is cheap; or from a silly pride, because it is dear. Keep an +account in a book, of all that you receive, and of all that you pay; +for no man, who knows what he receives and what he pays, ever runs +out. I do not mean that you should keep an account of the shillings +and half-crowns which you may spend in chair-hire, operas, etc. They +are unworthy of the time, and of the ink that they would consume; +leave such _minutiae_ to dull, penny-wise fellows; but remember in +economy, as well as in every other part of life, to have the proper +attention to proper objects, and the proper contempt for little ones. +A strong mind sees things in their true proportion; a weak one views +them through a magnifying medium, which, like the microscope, makes an +elephant of a flea; magnifies all little objects, but cannot receive +great ones. I have known many a man pass for a miser, by saving a +penny, and wrangling for two-pence, who was undoing himself at the +same time, by living above his income, and not attending to essential +articles, which were above his _portée_. The sure characteristic of a +sound and strong mind is, to find in everything those certain bounds, +_quos ultra citrave nequit consistere rectum_. These boundaries are +marked out by a very fine line, which only good sense and attention +can discover; it is much too fine for vulgar eyes. In manners, this +line is good-breeding; beyond it, is troublesome ceremony; short of +it, is unbecoming negligence and inattention. In morals, it divides +ostentatious puritanism from criminal relaxation; in religion, +superstition from impiety; and, in short, every virtue from its +kindred vice or weakness. I think you have sense enough to discover +the line; keep it always in your eye, and learn to walk upon it; rest +upon Mr. Harte, and he will poise you, till you are able to go alone. +By the way, there are fewer people who walk well upon that line, than +upon the slack-rope; and, therefore, a good performer shines so much +the more.... + +Remember to take the best dancing-master at Berlin, more to teach you +to sit, stand, and walk gracefully, than to dance finely. The graces, +the graces; remember the graces! Adieu. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A father's example_ + + +London, 7 _Feb_. o.s. 1749. + +DEAR BOY, + +You are now come to an age capable of reflection; and I hope you will +do, what however few people at your age do, exert it, for your own +sake, in the search of truth and sound knowledge. I will confess (for +I am not unwilling to discover my secrets to you) that it is not many +years since I have presumed to reflect for myself. Till sixteen or +seventeen I had no reflection, and for many years after that I made no +use of what I had. I adopted the notions of the books I read, or the +company I kept, without examining whether they were just or not; and I +rather chose to run the risk of easy error, than to take the time and +trouble of investigating truth. Thus, partly from laziness, partly +from dissipation, and partly from the _mauvaise honte_ of rejecting +fashionable notions, I was (as I since found) hurried away by +prejudices, instead of being guided by reason; and quietly cherished +error, instead of seeking for truth. But since I have taken the +trouble of reasoning for myself, and have had the courage to own that +I do so, you cannot imagine how much my notions of things are altered, +and in how different a light I now see them, from that in which I +formerly viewed them through the deceitful medium of prejudice or +authority. Nay, I may possibly still retain many errors, which, from +long habit, have perhaps grown into real opinions; for it is very +difficult to distinguish habits, early acquired and long entertained, +from the result of our reason and reflection. + +My first prejudice (for I do not mention the prejudices of boys and +women, such as hobgoblins, ghosts, dreams, spilling salt, &c.) was my +classical enthusiasm, which I received from the books I read, and the +masters who explained them to me. I was convinced there had been no +common sense nor common honesty in the world for these last fifteen +hundred years; but that they were totally extinguished with the +ancient Greek and Roman governments. Homer and Virgil could have no +faults, because they were ancient; Milton and Tasso could have no +merit, because they were modern. And I could almost have said, with +regard to the ancients, what Cicero, very absurdly and unbecomingly +for a philosopher, says with regard to Plato, _Cum quo errare malim +quam cum aliis recte sentire_. Whereas now, without any extraordinary +effort of genius, I have discovered that nature was the same three +thousand years ago as it is at present; that men were but men then as +well as now; that modes and customs vary often, but that human nature +is always the same. And I can no more suppose, that men were better, +braver, or wiser, fifteen hundred or three thousand years ago, than I +can suppose that the animals or vegetables were better then than +they are now. I dare assert too, in defiance of the favourers of the +ancients, that Homer's hero Achilles was both a brute and a scoundrel, +and consequently an improper character for the hero of an epic poem; +he had so little regard for his country, that he would not act in +defence of it, because he had quarrelled with Agamemnon about a--; and +then afterwards, animated by private resentment only, he went about +killing people basely, I will call it, because he knew himself +invulnerable; and yet, invulnerable as he was, he wore the strongest +armour in the world; which I humbly apprehend to be a blunder; for a +horseshoe clapped to his vulnerable heel would have been sufficient. +On the other hand, with submission to the favourers of the moderns, +I assert with Mr. Dryden, that the Devil is in truth the hero of +Milton's poem: his plan, which he lays, pursues, and at last executes, +being the subject of the poem. From all which considerations I +impartially conclude that the ancients had their excellencies and +their defects, their virtues and their vices, just like the moderns: +pedantry and affectation of learning clearly decide in favour of +the former; vanity and ignorance, as peremptorily, in favour of the +latter. Religious prejudices kept pace with my classical ones; and +there was a time when I thought it impossible for the honestest man in +the world to be saved, out of the pale of the Church of England: not +considering that matters of opinion do not depend upon the will; +and that it is as natural, and as allowable, that another man should +differ in opinion from me, as that I should differ from him; and that, +if we are both sincere, we are both blameless, and should consequently +have mutual indulgences for each other. + +The next prejudices I adopted were those of the _beau monde_, in +which, as I was determined to shine, I took what are commonly called +the genteel vices to be necessary. I had heard them reckoned so, and +without further inquiry, I believed it; or at least should have been +ashamed to have denied it, for fear of exposing myself to the ridicule +of those whom I considered as the models of fine gentlemen. But now I +am neither ashamed nor afraid to assert, that those genteel vices, as +they are falsely called, are only so many blemishes in the character +of even a man of the world, and what is called a fine gentleman, and +degrade him in the opinion of those very people, to whom he hopes to +recommend himself by them. Nay, this prejudice often extends so far, +that I have known people pretend to vices they had not, instead of +carefully concealing those they had. + +Use and assert your own reason; reflect, examine, and analyze +everything, in order to form a sound and mature judgement; let no +[Greek: outos epha] impose upon your understanding, mislead your +actions, or dictate your conversation. Be early what, if you are not, +you will when too late wish you had been. Consult your reason betimes: +I do not say, that it will always prove an unerring guide; for human +reason is not infallible; but it will prove the least erring guide +that you can follow. Books and conversation may assist it; but adopt +neither, blindly and implicitly: try both by that best rule which God +has given to direct us, reason. Of all the troubles, do not decline, +as many people do, that of thinking. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Public speaking_ + + +London, 9 _Dec_. o.s. 1749. + +DEAR BOY, + +It is now above forty years since I have never spoken nor written +one single word, without giving myself at least one moment's time to +consider, whether it was a good one or a bad one, and whether I could +not find out a better in its place. An unharmonious and rugged period, +at this time, shocks my ears; and I, like all the rest of the world, +will willingly exchange and give up some degree of rough sense, for +a good degree of pleasing sound. I will freely and truly own to you, +without either vanity or false modesty, that whatever reputation I +have acquired as a speaker, is more owing to my constant attention to +my diction than to my matter, which was necessarily just the same as +other people's. When you come into parliament, your reputation as a +speaker will depend much more upon your words, and your periods than +upon the subject. The same matter occurs equally to everybody of +common sense, upon the same question: the dressing it well, is what +excites the attention and admiration of the audience. + +It is in parliament that I have set my heart upon your making a +figure; it is there that I want to have you justly proud of yourself, +and to make me justly proud of you. This means that you must be a good +speaker there; I use the word _must_, because I know you may if you +will. The vulgar, who are always mistaken, look upon a speaker and a +comet with the same astonishment and admiration, taking them both for +preternatural phenomena. This error discourages many young men from +attempting that character; and good speakers are willing to have their +talent considered as something very extraordinary, if not a peculiar +gift of God to his elect. But, let you and I analyze and simplify this +good speaker; let us strip him of those adventitious plumes with which +his own pride and the ignorance of others have decked him; and we +shall find the true definition of him to be no more than this: a +man of good common sense, who reasons justly, and expresses himself +elegantly, on that subject upon which he speaks. There is, surely, no +witchcraft in this. A man of sense, without a superior and astonishing +degree of parts, will not talk nonsense upon any subject; nor will he, +if he has the least taste or application, talk inelegantly. What then +does all this mighty art and mystery of speaking in parliament amount +to? Why, no more than this, that the man who speaks in the House +of Commons, speaks in that house, and to four hundred people, that +opinion upon a given subject which he would make no difficulty of +speaking in any house in England, round the fire, or at table, to +any fourteen people whatsoever; better judges, perhaps, and severer +critics of what he says, than any fourteen gentlemen of the House of +Commons. + +I have spoken frequently in parliament, and not always without some +applause; and therefore I can assure you, from my experience, that +there is very little in it. The elegancy of the style and the turn of +the periods make the chief impression upon the hearers. Give them but +one or two round and harmonious periods in a speech, which they will +retain and repeat, and they will go home as well satisfied as people +do from an opera, humming all the way one or two favourite tunes that +have struck their ears, and were easily caught. Most people have ears, +but few have judgement; tickle those ears, and, depend upon it, you +will catch their judgements, such as they are. + +Cicero, conscious that he was at the top of his profession (for in +his time eloquence was a profession), in order to set himself off, +defines, in his treatise _de Oratore_, an orator to be such a man as +never was, or never will be; and, by this fallacious argument, says +that he must know every art and science whatsoever, or how shall he +speak upon them? But with submission to so great an authority, my +definition of an orator is extremely different from, and I believe +much truer than, his. I call that man an orator who reasons justly, +and expresses himself elegantly, upon whatever subjects he treats. +Problems in geometry, equations in algebra, processes in chemistry, +and experiments in anatomy, are never, that I have heard of, the +objects of eloquence; and therefore I humbly conceive that a man may +be a very fine speaker, and yet know nothing of geometry, algebra, +chemistry, or anatomy. The subjects of all parliamentary debates are +subjects of common sense singly. + +Thus I write whatever occurs to me, that I think may contribute either +to form or inform you. May my labour not be in vain! and it will not, +if you will but have half the concern for yourself that I have for +you. Adieu. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The new Earl of Chatham_ + + +Blackheath, 1 _Aug._ 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +The curtain was at last drawn up, the day before yesterday, and +discovered the new actors together with some of the old ones. I do not +name them to you, because to-morrow's Gazette will do it full as well +as I could. Mr. Pitt, who had _carte blanche_ given him, named every +one of them: but what would you think he named himself for? Lord Privy +Seal; and (what will astonish you, as it does every mortal here) Earl +of Chatham. The joke here is, that he has had _a fall upstairs_, and +has done himself so much hurt, that he will never be able to stand +upon his legs again. Everybody is puzzled how to account for this +step; though it would not be the first time that great abilities have +been duped by low cunning. But be it what it will, he is now certainly +only Earl of Chatham; and no longer Mr. Pitt, in any respect whatever. +Such an event, I believe, was never read nor heard of. To withdraw, +in the fullness of his power, and in the utmost gratification of his +ambition, from the House of Commons, (which procured him his power, +and which could alone ensure it to him) and to go into that hospital +of incurables, the House of Lords, is a measure so unaccountable, that +nothing but proof positive could have made me believe it: but true it +is. Hans Stanley is to go ambassador to Russia; and my nephew, Ellis, +to Spain, decorated with the red ribband. Lord Shelburne is your +secretary of state, which I suppose he has notified to you this post +by a circular letter. Charles Townshend has now the sole management of +the House of Commons; but how long he will be content to be only Lord +Chatham's viceregent there, is a question which I will not pretend +to decide. There is one very bad sign for Lord Chatham in his new +dignity; which is, that all his enemies, without exception, rejoice at +it; and all his friends are stupefied and dumb-founded. If I mistake +not much, he will in the course of a year enjoy perfect _otium cum +dignitate_. Enough of politics. + +Is the fair, or at least the fat Miss C---- with you still? It must +be confessed that she knows the art of courts, to be so received at +Dresden and so connived at in Leicester-fields. + +There never was so wet a summer as this has been, in the memory of +man; we have not had one single day, since March, without some rain; +but most days a great deal. I hope that does not affect your health, +as great cold does; for with all these inundations it has not been +cold. God bless you! + + + + +SAMUEL JOHNSON + +1709-1784 + + + +To BENNET LANGTON + +_Postponement of a visit_ + + +6 _May_, 1755. + +SIR, + +It has been long observed, that men do not suspect faults which +they do not commit; your own elegance of manners, and punctuality of +complaisance, did not suffer you to impute to me that negligence +of which I was guilty, and [for] which I have not since atoned. +I received both your letters, and received them with pleasure +proportioned to the esteem which so short an acquaintance strongly +impressed, and which I hope to confirm by nearer knowledge, though I +am afraid that gratification will be for a time withheld. + +I have, indeed, published my book, of which I beg to know your +father's judgment, and yours; and I have now stayed long enough to +watch its progress in the world. It has, you see, no patrons, and +I think has yet had no opponents, except the critics of the +coffee-house, whose outcries are soon dispersed into the air, and are +thought on no more. From this, therefore, I am at liberty, and think +of taking the opportunity of this interval to make an excursion, and +why not then into Lincolnshire? or, to mention a stronger attraction, +why not to dear Mr. Langton? I will give the true reason, which I know +you will approve:--I have a mother more than eighty years old, who has +counted the days to the publication of my book, in hopes of seeing me; +and to her, if I can disengage myself here, I resolve to go. + +As I know, dear sir, that to delay my visit for a reason like this +will not deprive me of your esteem, I beg it may not lessen your +kindness. I have very seldom received an offer of friendship which I +so earnestly desire to cultivate and mature. I shall rejoice to hear +from you, till I can see you, and will see you as soon as I can; for +when the duty that calls me to Lichfield is discharged, my inclination +will carry me to Langton. I shall delight to hear the ocean roar, or +see the stars twinkle, in the company of men to whom Nature does not +spread her volumes or utter her voice in vain. + +Do not, dear sir, make the slowness of this letter a precedent +for delay, or imagine that I approved the incivility that I have +committed; for I have known you enough to love you, and sincerely to +wish a further knowledge; and I assure you once more, that to live in +a house that contains such a father and such a son, will be accounted +a very uncommon degree of pleasure by, dear sir, your most obliged and +most humble servant. + + + +TO MISS PORTER + +_A mother's death_ + + +23 _Jan._ 1759. + +You will conceive my sorrow for the loss of my mother, of the best +mother. If she were to live again, surely I should behave better to +her. But she is happy, and what is past is nothing to her; and for me, +since I cannot repair my faults to her, I hope repentance will +efface them. I return you and all those that have been good to her +my sincerest thanks, and pray God to repay you all with infinite +advantage. Write to me and comfort me, dear child. I shall be glad +likewise, if Kitty will write to me. I shall send a bill of twenty +pounds in a few days, which I thought to have brought to my mother; +but God suffered it not. I have not power or composure to say much +more. God bless you, and bless us all. + + + +To JOSEPH BARETTI + +_A letter of counsel_ + + +21 _Dec._ 1762. + +SIR, + +You are not to suppose, with all your conviction of my idleness, that +I have passed all this time without writing to my Baretti. I gave +a letter to Mr. Beauclerk, who, in my opinion, and in his own, was +hastening to Naples for the recovery of his health; but he has stopped +at Paris, and I know not when he will proceed. Langton is with him. + +I will not trouble you with speculations about peace and war. The good +or ill success of battles and embassies extends itself to a very small +part of domestic life: we all have good and evil, which we feel more +sensibly than our petty part of public miscarriage or prosperity. I am +sorry for your disappointment, with which you seem more touched than +I should expect a man of your resolution and experience to have been, +did I not know that general truths are seldom applied to particular +occasions; so that the fallacy of our self-love extends itself as wide +as our interest and affections. Every man believes that mistresses are +unfaithful, and patrons capricious; but he excepts his own mistress +and his own patron. We have all learned that greatness is negligent +and contemptuous, and that in courts, life is often languished away in +ungratified expectation; but he that approaches greatness, or glitters +in a court, imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from the +common lot. + +Do not let such evils overwhelm you as thousands have suffered and +thousands have surmounted; but turn your thoughts with vigour to +some other plan of life, and keep always in your mind that, with due +submission to Providence, a man of genius has been seldom ruined but +by himself. Your patron's weakness or insensibility will finally do +you little hurt, if he is not assisted by your own passions. Of your +love I know not the propriety, nor can estimate the power; but in +love, as in every other passion, of which hope is the essence, we +ought always to remember the uncertainty of events. There is indeed +nothing that so much seduces reason from her vigilance, as the thought +of passing life with an amiable woman; and if all would happen that +a lover fancies, I know not what other terrestrial happiness would +deserve pursuit. But love and marriage are different states. Those who +are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for the sakes of +one another, soon lose that tenderness of look and that benevolence +of mind which arose from the participation of unmingled pleasure and +successive amusement. A woman we are sure will not be always fair, +we are not sure she will always be virtuous; and man cannot retain +through life that respect and assiduity by which he pleases for a day +or for a month. I do not however pretend to have discovered that life +has anything more to be desired than a prudent and virtuous marriage; +therefore know not what counsel to give you. + +If you can quit your imagination of love and greatness, and leave your +hopes of preferment and bridal raptures to try once more the fortune +of literature and industry, the way through France is now open. We +flatter ourselves that we shall cultivate with great diligence the +arts of peace; and every man will be welcome among us who can teach +us anything we do not know. For your part, you will find all your old +friends willing to receive you.... + + + +To MRS. THRALE + +_Travel in Scotland_ + + +Skye, 21 _Sept._ 1773. + +DEAREST MADAM, + +I am so vexed at the necessity of sending yesterday so short a letter, +that I purpose to get a long letter beforehand by writing something +every day, which I may the more easily do, as a cold makes me now too +deaf to take the usual pleasure in conversation. Lady Macleod is very +good to me, and the place at which we now are, is equal in strength of +situation, in the wildness of the adjacent country, and in the plenty +and elegance of the domestic entertainment, to a castle in Gothic +romances. The sea with a little island is before us; cascades play +within view. Close to the house is the formidable skeleton of an old +castle probably Danish, and the whole mass of building stands upon +a protuberance of rock, inaccessible till of late but by a pair of +stairs on the sea side, and secure in ancient times against any enemy +that was likely to invade the kingdom of Skye. + +Macleod has offered me an island; if it were not too far off I should +hardly refuse it: my island would be pleasanter than Brighthelmstone, +if you and my master could come to it; but I cannot think it pleasant +to live quite alone. + + Oblitusque meorum, obliviscendus et illis. + +That I should be elated by the dominion of an island to forgetfulness +of my friends at Streatham I cannot believe, and I hope never to +deserve that they should be willing to forget me. + +It has happened that I have been often recognised in my journey +where I did not expect it. At Aberdeen I found one of my acquaintance +professor of physic; turning aside to dine with a country gentleman, I +was owned at table by one who had seen me at a philosophical lecture; +at Macdonald's I was claimed by a naturalist, who wanders about the +islands to pick up curiosities; and I had once in London attracted the +notice of Lady Macleod. I will now go on with my account. + +The Highland girl made tea, and looked and talked not inelegantly; her +father was by no means an ignorant or a weak man; there were books in +the cottage, among which were some volumes of Prideaux's _Connection_: +this man's conversation we were glad of while we stayed. He had been +_out_, as they call it, in forty-five, and still retained his old +opinions. He was going to America, because his rent was raised beyond +what he thought himself able to pay. + +At night our beds were made, but we had some difficulty in persuading +ourselves to lie down in them, though we had put on our own sheets; +at last we ventured, and I slept very soundly in the vale of Glen +Morrison, amidst the rocks and mountains. Next morning our landlord +liked us so well, that he walked some miles with us for our company, +through a country so wild and barren that the proprietor does not, +with all his pressure upon his tenants, raise more than four hundred +pounds a year for near one hundred square miles or sixty thousand +acres. He let us know that he had forty head of black cattle, an +hundred goats, and an hundred sheep, upon a farm that he remembered +let at five pounds a year, but for which he now paid twenty. He told +us some stories of their march into England. At last he left us, +and we went forward, winding among mountains, sometimes green and +sometimes naked, commonly so steep as not easily to be climbed by +the greatest vigour and activity: our way was often crossed by little +rivulets, and we were entertained with small streams trickling from +the rocks, which after heavy rains must be tremendous torrents. + +About noon we came to a small glen, so they call a valley, which +compared with other places appeared rich and fertile; here our guides +desired us to stop, that the horses might graze, for the journey +was very laborious, and no more grass would be found. We made no +difficulty of compliance, and I sat down to take notes on a green +bank, with a small stream running at my feet, in the midst of savage +solitude, with mountains before me, and on either hand covered with +heath. I looked around me, and wondered that I was not more affected, +but the mind is not at all times equally ready to be put in motion; +if my mistress and master and Queeny had been there we should have +produced some reflections among us, either poetical or philosophical, +for though _solitude be the nurse of woe_, conversation is often the +parent of remarks and discoveries. + +In about an hour we remounted, and pursued our journey. The lake by +which we had travelled for some time ended in a river, which we passed +by a bridge, and came to another glen, with a collection of huts, +called Auknashealds; the huts were generally built of clods of earth, +held together by the intertexture of vegetable fibres, of which earth +there are great levels in Scotland which they call mosses. Moss in +Scotland is bog in Ireland, and moss-trooper is bog-trotter: there +was, however, one hut built of loose stones, piled up with great +thickness into a strong though not solid wall. From this house we +obtained some great pails of milk, and having brought bread with us, +were very liberally regaled. The inhabitants, a very coarse tribe, +ignorant of any language but Erse, gathered so fast about us, that if +we had not had Highlanders with us, they might have caused more alarm +than pleasure; they are called the Clan of Macrae. + +We had been told that nothing gratified the Highlanders so much as +snuff and tobacco, and had accordingly stored ourselves with both at +Fort Augustus. Boswell opened his treasure, and gave them each a piece +of tobacco roll. We had more bread than we could eat for the present, +and were more liberal than provident. Boswell cut it in slices, and +gave them an opportunity of tasting wheaten bread for the first time. +I then got some halfpence for a shilling, and made up the deficiencies +of Boswell's distribution, who had given some money among the +children. We then directed that the mistress of the stone house should +be asked what we must pay her: she, who perhaps had never before +sold anything but cattle, knew not, I believe, well what to ask, and +referred herself to us: we obliged her to make some demand, and one of +the Highlanders settled the account with her at a shilling. One of the +men advised her, with the cunning that clowns never can be without, to +ask more; but she said that a shilling was enough. We gave her half +a crown, and she offered part of it again. The Macraes were so well +pleased with our behaviour, that they declared it the best day they +had seen since the time of the old Laird of Macleod, who, I suppose, +like us, stopped in their valley, as he was travelling to Skye.... + +I cannot forbear to interrupt my narrative. Boswell, with some of his +troublesome kindness, has informed this family and reminded me that +the 18th of September is my birthday. The return of my birthday, if I +remember it, fills me with thoughts which it seems to be the general +care of humanity to escape. I can now look back upon three score +and four years, in which little has been done, and little has been +enjoyed; a life diversified by misery, spent part in the sluggishness +of penury, and part under the violence of pain, in gloomy discontent +or importunate distress. But perhaps I am better than I should have +been if I had been less afflicted. With this I will try to be content. + +In proportion as there is less pleasure in retrospective +considerations, the mind is more disposed to wander forward into +futurity; but at sixty-four what promises, however liberal, of +imaginary good can futurity venture to make? Yet something will be +always promised and some promises will always be credited. I am hoping +and I am praying that I may live better in the time to come, whether +long or short, than I have yet lived, and in the solace of that +hope endeavour to repose. Dear Queeny's day is next, I hope she at +sixty-four will have less to regret.... + +You will now expect that I should give you some account of the Isle of +Skye, of which, though I have been twelve days upon it, I have little +to say. It is an island perhaps fifty miles long, so much indented by +inlets of the sea that there is no part of it removed from the water +more than six miles. No part that I have seen is plain; you are always +climbing or descending, and every step is upon rock or mire. A walk +upon ploughed ground in England is a dance upon carpets compared to +the toilsome drudgery of wandering in Skye. There is neither town nor +village in the island, nor have I seen any house but Macleod's, that +is not much below your habitation at Brighthelmstone. In the mountains +there are stags and roebucks, but no hares, and few rabbits; nor have +I seen anything that interested me as a zoologist, except an otter, +bigger than I thought an otter could have been. + +You perhaps are imagining that I am withdrawn from the gay and +the busy world into regions of peace and pastoral felicity, and am +enjoying the relics of the golden age; that I am surveying nature's +magnificence from a mountain, or remarking her minuter beauties on the +flowery bank of a winding rivulet; that I am invigorating myself in +the sunshine, or delighting my imagination with being hidden from +the invasion of human evils and human passions in the darkness of a +thicket; that I am busy in gathering shells and pebbles on the shore, +or contemplative on a rock, from which I look upon the water, and +consider how many waves are rolling between me and Streatham. + +The use of travelling is to regulate imagination by reality, and +instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are. Here +are mountains which I should once have climbed, but to climb steps +is now very laborious, and to descend them dangerous; and I am now +content with knowing, that by scrambling up a rock, I shall only see +other rocks, and a wider circuit of barren desolation. Of streams, we +have here a sufficient number, but they murmur not upon pebbles, but +upon rocks. Of flowers, if Chloris herself were here, I could present +her only with the bloom of heath. Of lawns and thickets, he must read +that would know them, for here is little sun and no shade. On the sea +I look from my window, but am not much tempted to the shore; for since +I came to this island, almost every breath of air has been a storm, +and what is worse, a storm with all its severity, but without its +magnificence, for the sea is here so broken into channels that there +is not a sufficient volume of water either for lofty surges or a loud +roar.... + + + +TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + +_Patronage_ + + +7 _Feb_. 1775. + +MY LORD, + +I have been lately informed, by the proprietor of _The World_, that +two papers, in which my _Dictionary_ is recommended to the public, are +by your lordship. To be so distinguished is an honour, which, being +very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well how +to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. + +When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your lordship, I +was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your +address, and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself _le +vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre_;--that I might obtain that regard +for which I saw the world contending; but I found my attendance so +little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to +continue it. When I had once addressed your lordship in public, I +had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly +scholar can possess. I had done all I could; and no man is well +pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. + +Seven years, my lord, have now passed, since I waited in your outward +rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been +pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to +complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, +without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile +of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron +before. + +The shepherd in _Virgil_ grew at last acquainted with Love, and found +him a native of the rocks. + +Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man +struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached ground, +encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to +take of my labours, had it been early had been kind; but it has +been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am +solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I +hope it is no very cynical asperity, not to confess obligations, +where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public +should consider me as owing that to a patron, which Providence has +enabled me to do for myself. + +Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any +favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I shall +conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been long +wakened from that dream of hope in which I once boasted myself with so +much exultation. + +My Lord, + +Your Lordship's most humble, +most obedient servant. + + + +To JAMES BOSWELL + +_A silent friend_ + + +13 _July_, 1779. + +DEAR SIR, + +What can possibly have happened that keeps us two such strangers to +each other? I expected to have heard from you when you came home; I +expected afterwards. I went into the country and returned, and yet +there is no letter from Mr. Boswell. No ill, I hope, has happened; and +if ill should happen, why should it be concealed from him who loves +you? Is it a fit of humour, that has disposed you to try who can hold +out longest without writing? If it be, you have the victory. But I am +afraid of something bad; set me free from my suspicions. + +My thoughts are at present employed in guessing the reason of your +silence; you must not expect that I should tell you anything, if I had +anything to tell. Write, pray write to me, and let me know what is or +what has been the cause of this long interruption. + + + +To MRS. THRALE + +_A great man's fortitude_ + + +19 _June_, 1783. + +ON Monday the 16th, I sat for my picture and walked a considerable way +with little inconvenience. In the afternoon and evening I felt myself +light and easy, and began to plan schemes of life. Thus I went to bed, +and in a short time waked and sat up, as has been long my custom, +when I felt a confusion and indistinctness in my head, which lasted, +I suppose, about half a minute. I was alarmed, and prayed God, that +however he might afflict my body, he would spare my understanding. +This prayer, that I might try the integrity of my faculties, I made in +Latin verse. The lines were not very good, but I knew them not to be +very good: I made them easily, and concluded myself to be unimpaired +in my faculties. + +Soon after I perceived that I had suffered a paralytic stroke, +and that my speech was taken from me. I had no pain, and so little +dejection in this dreadful state, that I wondered at my own apathy, +and considered that perhaps death itself, when it should come, would +excite less horror than seems now to attend it. + +In order to rouse the vocal organs, I took two drams. Wine has been +celebrated for the production of eloquence. I put myself into violent +motion, and I think repeated it; but all was vain. I then went to bed, +and strange as it may seem, I slept. When I saw light, it was time to +contrive what I should do. Though God stopped my speech, he left me +my hands; I enjoyed a mercy which was not granted to my dear friend +Lawrence, who now perhaps overlooks me as I am writing, and rejoices +that I have what he wanted. My first note was necessarily to my +servant, who came in talking, and could not immediately comprehend why +he should read what I put into his hands. I then wrote a card to Mr. +Allen, that I might have a discreet friend at hand, to act as occasion +should require. In penning this note I had some difficulty; my hand, +I knew not how nor why, made wrong letters. I then wrote to Dr. Taylor +to come to me, and bring Dr. Heberden: and I sent to Dr. Brocklesby, +who is my neighbour. My physicians are very friendly, and give me +great hopes; but you may imagine my situation. I have so far recovered +my vocal powers, as to repeat the Lord's Prayer with no very imperfect +articulation. My memory, I hope, yet remains as it was! but such an +attack produces solicitude for the safety of every faculty. + + + + +LAURENCE STERNE + +1713-1768 + + + +To Miss LUMLEY + +_The disconsolate lover_ + + +[1740-1] + +You bid me tell you, my dear L., how I bore your departure for S----, +and whether the valley, where D'Estella stands, retains still its +looks, or if I think the roses or jessamines smell as sweet as when +you left it. Alas! everything has now lost its relish and look! The +hour you left D'Estella I took to my bed. I was worn out with fevers +of all kinds, but most by that fever of the heart with which thou +knowest well I have been wasting these two years--and shall continue +wasting till you quit S----. The good Miss S----, from the forebodings +of the best of hearts, thinking I was ill, insisted upon my going to +her. What can be the cause, my dear L., that I never have been able to +see the face of this mutual friend, but I feel myself rent to pieces? +She made me stay an hour with her, and in that short space I burst +into tears a dozen different times, and in such affectionate gusts of +passion, that she was constrained to leave the room, and sympathize +in her dressing-room. I have been weeping for you both, said she, in +a tone of the sweetest pity--for poor L.'s heart, I have long known +it--her anguish is as sharp as yours--her heart as tender--her +constancy as great--her virtues as heroic--Heaven brought you not +together to be tormented. I could only answer her with a kind look, +and a heavy sigh, and returned home to your lodgings (which I have +hired till your return) to resign myself to misery. Fanny had prepared +me a supper--she is all attention to me--but I sat over it with tears; +a bitter sauce, my L., but I could eat it with no other; for the +moment she began to spread my little table, my heart fainted within +me. One solitary plate, one knife, one fork, one glass! I gave a +thousand pensive, penetrating looks at the chair thou hadst so often +graced, in those quiet and sentimental repasts, then laid down my +knife and fork, and took out my handkerchief, and clapped it across +my face, and wept like a child. I could do so this very moment, my L.; +for, as I take up my pen, my poor pulse quickens, my pale face glows, +and tears are trickling down upon the paper, as I trace the word +L----. O thou! blessed in thyself, and in thy virtues, blessed to all +that know thee--to me most so, because more do I know of thee than all +thy sex. This is the philtre, my L., by which thou hast charmed me, +and by which thou wilt hold me thine, while virtue and faith hold this +world together. This, my friend, is the plain and simple magic, by +which I told Miss ---- I have won a place in that heart of thine, on +which I depend so satisfied, that time, or distance, or change of +everything which might alarm the hearts of little men, create no +uneasy suspense in mine. Wast thou to stay in S---- these seven +years, thy friend, though he would grieve, scorns to doubt, or to be +doubted--'tis the only exception where security is not the parent of +danger. + +I told you poor Fanny was all attention to me since your +departure--contrives every day bringing in the name of L. She told +me last night (upon giving me some hartshorn), she had observed my +illness began the very day of your departure for S----; that I had +never held up my head, had seldom, or scarce ever, smiled, had fled +from all society; that she verily believed I was broken-hearted, for +she had never entered the room, or passed by the door, but she heard +me sigh heavily; that I neither eat, or slept, or took pleasure in +anything as before. Judge then, my L., can the valley look so well, +or the roses and jessamines smell so sweet as heretofore? Ah me! but +adieu--the vesper bell calls me from thee to my GOD. + + + +To DAVID GARRICK + +_Le chevalier Shandy_ + + +Paris, 19 _March_, 1762. + + +DEAR GARRICK, + +This will be put into your hands by Dr. Shippen, a physician, who has +been here some time with Miss Poyntz, and is at this moment setting +out for your metropolis; so I snatch the opportunity of writing to you +and my kind friend Mrs. Garrick. I see nothing like her here, and yet +I have been introduced to one half of their best Goddesses, and in a +month more shall be admitted to the shrines of the other half; but I +neither worship or fall (much) on my knees before them; but, on the +contrary, have converted many unto Shandeism; for be it known, I +Shandy it away fifty times more than I was ever wont, talk more +nonsense than ever you heard me talk in your days--and to all sorts +of people. _Qui le diable est cet homme-là_--said Choiseul t'other +day--_ce chevalier Shandy_? You'll think me as vain as a devil, was I +to tell you the rest of the dialogue; whether the bearer knows it or +no, I know not. 'Twill serve up after supper, in Southampton-street, +amongst other small dishes, after the fatigues of Richard III. O God! +they have nothing here, which gives the nerves so smart a blow, as +those great characters in the hands of Garrick! but I forgot I +am writing to the man himself. The devil take (as he will) these +transports of enthusiasm! Apropos, the whole city of Paris is +_bewitched_ with the comic opera, and if it was not for the affair +of the Jesuits, which takes up one half of our talk, the comic opera +would have it all. It is a tragical nuisance in all companies as it +is, and was it not for some sudden starts and dashes of Shandeism, +which now and then either break the thread, or entangle it so, that +the devil himself would be puzzled in winding it off, I should die a +martyr--this by the way I never will. + +I send you over some of these comic operas by the bearer, with the +_Sallon_, a satire. The French comedy, I seldom visit it--they act +scarce in anything but tragedies--and the Clairon is great, and Mile. +Dumesnil, in some places, still greater than her; yet I cannot bear +preaching--I fancy I got a surfeit of it in my younger days. There +is a tragedy to be damned to-night--peace be with it, and the gentle +brain which made it! I have ten thousand things to tell you I cannot +write, I do a thousand things which cut no figure, _but in the +doing_--and as in London, I have the honour of having done and said a +thousand things I never did or dreamed of--and yet I dream abundantly. +If the devil stood behind me in the shape of a courier, I could not +write faster than I do, having five letters more to dispatch by the +same gentleman; he is going into another section of the globe, and +when he has seen you, will depart in peace. + +The Duke of Orleans has suffered my portrait to be added to the number +of some odd men in his collection; and a gentleman who lives with him +has taken it most expressively, at full length: I purpose to obtain an +etching of it, and to send it you. Your prayer for me of _rosy health_ +is heard. If I stay here for three or four months, I shall return more +than reinstated. My love to Mrs. Garrick. + + + +To MR. FOLEY AT PARIS + +_An adventure on the road_ + + +Toulouse, 14 _Aug_. 1762. + +MY DEAR FOLEY, + +After many turnings (_alias_ digressions), to say nothing of downright +overthrows, stops, and delays, we have arrived in three weeks at +Toulouse, and are now settled in our houses with servants, &c., about +us, and look as composed as if we had been here seven years. In +our journey we suffered so much from the heats, it gives me pain to +remember it; I never saw a cloud from Paris to Nismes half as broad as +a twenty-four sols piece. Good God! we were toasted, roasted, grilled, +stewed and carbonaded on one side or other all the way; and being all +done enough (_assez cuits_) in the day, we were eat up at night by +bugs, and other unswept-out vermin, the legal inhabitants (if length +of possession gives right) of every inn we lay at. Can you conceive +a worse accident than that in such a journey, in the hottest day and +hour of it, four miles from either tree or shrub which could cast a +shade of the size of one of Eve's fig leaves, that we should break a +hind wheel into ten thousand pieces, and be obliged in consequence +to sit five hours on a gravelly road, without one drop of water, or +possibility of getting any? To mend the matter, my two postillions +were two dough-hearted fools, and fell a-crying. Nothing was to be +done! By heaven, quoth I, pulling off my coat and waistcoat, something +shall be done, for I'll thrash you both within an inch of your lives, +and then make you take each of you a horse, and ride like two devils +to the next post for a cart to carry my baggage, and a wheel to +carry ourselves. Our luggage weighed ten quintals. It was the fair +of Baucaire, all the world was going, or returning; we were asked by +every soul who passed by us, if we were going to the fair of Baucaire. +No wonder, quoth I, we have goods enough! _vous avez raison, mes +amis_.... + + + + +THOMAS GRAY + +1716-1771 + +To RICHARD WEST + +_Scenery at Tivoli_ + + +Tivoli, 20 _May_, 1740. + +This day being in the palace of his Highness the Duke of Modena, he +laid his most serene commands upon me to write to Mr. West, and said +he thought it for his glory, that I should draw up an inventory of all +his most serene possessions for the said West's perusal. Imprimis, +a house, being in circumference a quarter of a mile, two feet and an +inch; the said house containing the following particulars, to wit, +a great room. Item, another great room; item, a bigger room; item, +another room; item, a vast room; item, a sixth of the same; a seventh +ditto; an eighth as before; a ninth as above said; a tenth (see No. +1); item, ten more such, besides twenty besides, which, not to be too +particular, we shall pass over. The said rooms contain nine chairs, +two tables, five stools and a cricket. From whence we shall proceed +to the garden, containing two millions of superfine laurel hedges, +a clump of cypress trees, and half the river Teverone.--Finis. Dame +Nature desired me to put in a list of her little goods and chattels, +and, as they were small, to be very minute about them. She has built +here three or four little mountains, and laid them out in an irregular +semi-circle; from certain others behind, at a greater distance, she +has drawn a canal, into which she has put a little river of hers, +called Anio; she has cut a huge cleft between the two innermost of her +four hills, and there she has left it to its own disposal; which she +has no sooner done, but, like a heedless chit, it tumbles headlong +down a declivity fifty feet perpendicular, breaks itself all to +shatters, and is converted into a shower of rain, where the sun forms +many a bow, red, green, blue, and yellow. To get out of our metaphors +without any further trouble, it is the most noble sight in the world. +The weight of that quantity of waters, and the force they fall with, +have worn the rocks they throw themselves among into a thousand +irregular craggs, and to a vast depth. In this channel it goes boiling +along with a mighty noise till it comes to another steep, where you +see it a second time come roaring down (but first you must walk +two miles farther) a greater height than before, but not with that +quantity of waters; for by this time it has divided itself, being +crossed and opposed by the rocks, into four several streams, each of +which, in emulation of the great one, will tumble down too; and it +does tumble down, but not from an equally elevated place; so that you +have at one view all these cascades intermixed with groves of olive +and little woods, the mountains rising behind them, and on the top of +one (that which forms the extremity of one of the half-circle's horns) +is seated the town itself. At the very extremity of that extremity, on +the brink of the precipice, stands the Sybil's temple, the remains +of a little rotunda, surrounded with its portico, above half of whose +beautiful Corinthian pillars are still standing and entire; all this +on one hand. On the other, the open Campagna of Rome, here and there +a little castle on a hillock, and the city itself at the very brink of +the horizon, indistinctly seen (being eighteen miles off) except the +dome of St. Peter's; which, if you look out of your window, wherever +you are, I suppose, you can see. I did not tell you that a little +below the first fall, on the side of the rock, and hanging over that +torrent, are little ruins which they show you for Horace's house, a +curious situation to observe the + + Praeceps Anio et Tiburni lucus, et uda + Mobilibus pomaria rivis. + +Maecenas did not care for such a noise, it seems, and built him a +house (which they also carry one to see) so situated that it sees +nothing at all of the matter, and for anything he knew there might be +no such river in the world. Horace had another house on the other side +of the Teverone, opposite to Maecenas's; and they told us there was +a bridge of communication, by which _andava il detto Signor per +trastullarsi coll' istesso Orazio_. In coming hither we crossed the +Aquae Albulae, a vile little brook that stinks like a fury, and they +say it has stunk so these thousand years. I forgot the Piscina of +Quintilius Varus, where he used to keep certain little fishes. This +is very entire, and there is a piece of the aqueduct that supplied it +too; in the garden below is old Rome, built in little, just as it was, +they say. There are seven temples in it, and no houses at all; they +say there were none. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A poet's melancholy_ + + +London, 27 _May_, 1742. + +Mine, you are to know is a white Melancholy, or rather Leucocholy +for the most part; which, though it seldom laughs or dances, nor ever +amounts to what one called Joy or Pleasure, yet is a good easy sort +of a state, and _ça ne laisse que de s'amuser._ The only fault is its +insipidity; which is apt now and then to give a sort of Ennui, which +makes one form certain little wishes that signify nothing. But there +is another sort, black indeed, which I have now and then felt, that +has somewhat in it like Tertullian's rule of faith, _Credo quia +impossibile est_; for it believes, nay, is sure of everything that is +unlikely, so it be but frightful; and on the other hand excludes and +shuts its eyes to the most possible hopes, and everything that is +pleasurable; from this the Lord deliver us! for none but he and +sunshiny weather can do it. In hopes of enjoying this kind of weather +I am going into the country for a few weeks, but shall be never the +nearer any society; so, if you have any charity, you will continue to +write. My life is like Harry the Fourth's supper of Hens, 'Poulets à +la broche, Poulets en Ragoût, Poulets en Hâchis, Poulets en Fricassées +'. Reading here, Reading there; nothing but books with different +sauces. Do not let me lose my desert then; for though that be Reading +too, yet it has a very different flavour. The May seems to be come +since your invitation; and I propose to bask in her beams and dress me +in her roses. + + Et caput in verna semper habere rosa. + +I shall see Mr. ---- and his Wife, nay, and his Child, too, for he has +got a Boy. Is it not odd to consider one's Cotemporaries in the grave +light of Husband and Father? There is my lords Sandwich and Halifax, +they are Statesmen: Do not you remember them dirty boys playing at +cricket? As for me, I am never a bit the older, nor the bigger, nor +the wiser than I was then: no, not for having been beyond sea. Pray, +how are you?... + + + +To HORACE WALPOLE + +_The fate of Selima_ + + +Cambridge, 1 _March_, 1747. + +As one ought to be particularly careful to avoid blunders in a +compliment of condolence, it would be a sensible satisfaction to +me (before I testify my sorrow, and the sincere part I take in your +misfortune) to know for certain, who it is that I lament. I knew Zara +and Selima (Selima, was it? or Fatima?) or rather I knew both of them +together; for I cannot justly say which was which. Then as to your +handsome Cat, the name you distinguished her by, I am no less at a +loss, as well knowing one's handsome cat is always the cat one likes +best; or if one be alive and the other dead, it is usually the latter +that is the handsomest. Besides, if the point were never so clear, I +hope you do not think me so ill-bred or so imprudent as to forfeit all +my interest in the survivor; Oh no! I would rather seem to mistake, +and to be sure it must be the tabby one that had met with this sad +accident. Till this affair is a little better determined, you will +excuse me if I do not begin to cry: + + Tempus inane peto, requiem, spatiumque doloris. + +Which interval is the more convenient, as it gives time to rejoice +with you on your new honours. This is only a beginning; I reckon next +week we shall hear you are a free-Mason, or a Gormorgon at least. +Heigh ho! I feel (as you to be sure have done long since) that I have +very little to say, at least in prose. Somebody will be the better for +it; I do not mean you, but your Cat, feuë Mademoiselle Selime, whom I +am about to immortalize for one week or fortnight, as follows. + +... There's a poem for you, it is rather too long for an Epitaph. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Publication of the Elegy_ + + +Cambridge, 11 _Feb_. 1751. + +As you have brought me into a little sort of distress, you must assist +me, I believe, to get out of it as well as I can. Yesterday I had +the misfortune of receiving a letter from certain gentlemen (as their +bookseller expresses it), who have taken the _Magazine of Magazines_ +into their hands. They tell me that an _ingenious_ poem, called +_Reflections in a Country Churchyard_, has been communicated to them, +which they are printing forthwith; that they are informed that the +_excellent_ author of it is I by name, and that they beg not only his +_indulgence_, but the _honour_ of his correspondence, &c. As I am not +at all disposed to be either so indulgent, or so correspondent, as +they desire, I have but one bad way left to escape the honour they +would inflict upon me; and, therefore, am obliged to desire you would +make Dodsley print it immediately (which may be done in less than a +week's time) from your copy, but without my name, in what form is +most convenient for him, but on his best paper and character; he must +correct the press himself, and print it without any interval between +the stanzas, because the sense is in some places continued +beyond them; and the title must be,--_Elegy, written in a Country +Churchyard_. If he would add a line or two to say it came into +his hands by accident, I should like it better. If you behold the +_Magazine of Magazines_ in the light that I do, you will not refuse to +give yourself this trouble on my account, which you have taken of your +own accord before now. If Dodsley do not do this immediately, he may +as well let it alone. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_At Burnham_ + + +[Burnham,] _Sept_. 1737. + +I was hindered in my last, and so could not give you all the trouble +I would have done. The description of a road, which your coach wheels +have so often honoured, it would be needless to give you; suffice +it that I arrived safe at my uncle's, who is a great hunter in +imagination; his dogs take up every chair in the house, so I am forced +to stand at this present writing; and though the gout forbids him +galloping after them in the field, yet he continues to regale his ears +and nose with their comfortable noise and stink. He holds me mighty +cheap, I perceive, for walking when I should ride, and reading when +I should hunt. My comfort amidst all this is, that I have at the +distance of half a mile, through a green lane, a forest (the vulgar +call it a common) all my own, at least as good as so, for I spy no +human thing in it but myself. It is a little chaos of mountains and +precipices; mountains, it is true, that do not ascend much above the +clouds, nor are the declivities quite so amazing as Dover Cliff; but +just such hills as people who love their necks as well as I do may +venture to climb, and crags that give the eye as much pleasure as if +they were more dangerous. Both vale and hill are covered with most +venerable beeches, and other very reverend vegetables, that, like most +other ancient people, are always dreaming out their old stories to the +winds. + + _And as they bow their hoary tops relate, + In murm'ring sounds, the dark decrees of fate; + While visions, as poetic eyes avow, + Cling to each leaf, and swarm on every bough._ + +At the foot of one of these squats ME I (_ilpenseroso_), and there +grow to the trunk for a whole morning. The timorous hare and sportive +squirrel gambol round me like Adam in Paradise, before he had an Eve; +but I think he did not use to read Virgil, as I commonly do there. +In this situation I often converse with my Horace, aloud too, that is +talk to you, but I do not remember that I ever heard you answer me. +I beg pardon for taking all the conversation to myself, but it is +entirely your own fault.... + + + +To THE REV. WILLIAM MASON + +_The Laureateship_ + + +19 _Dec_. 1757. + +DEAR MASON, + +Though I very well know the bland emollient saponaceous qualities both +of sack and silver, yet if any great man would say to me, 'I make you +Rat-catcher to his Majesty, with a salary of £300 a-year and two butts +of the best Malaga; and though it has been usual to catch a mouse or +two, for form's sake, in public once a year, yet to you, sir, we shall +not stand on these things,' I cannot say I should jump at it; nay, if +they would drop the very name of the office, and call me Sinecure +to the King's Majesty, I should feel a little awkward, and think +everybody I saw smelt a rat about me; but I do not pretend to blame +any one else that has not the same sensations; for my part, I would +rather be serjeant trumpeter or pinmaker to the palace. Nevertheless +I interest myself a little in the history of it, and rather wish +somebody may accept it who will retrieve the credit of the thing, if +it be retrieveable, or ever had any credit. Rowe was, I think, the +last man of character that had it. As to Settle, whom you mention, +he belonged to my lord mayor, not to the King. Eusden was a person +of great hopes in his youth, though at last he turned out a drunken +person. Dryden was as disgraceful to the office from his character, +as the poorest scribbler could have been from his verses. The office +itself has always humbled the professor hitherto (even in an age when +kings were somebody), if he were a poor writer by making him more +conspicuous, and if he were a good one by setting him at war with the +little fry of his own profession, for there are poets little enough to +envy even a poet laureate. + + + +To DR. WHARTON + +_A holiday in Kent_ + + +Pembroke College, 26 _Aug_. 1766. + +DEAR DOCTOR, + +Whatever my pen may do, I am sure my thoughts expatiate nowhere +oftener, or with more pleasure, than to Old Park. I hope you have made +my peace with Miss Deborah. It is certain, whether her name were in +my letter or not, she was as present to my memory as the rest of the +little family; and I desire you would present her with two kisses +in my name, and one a piece to all the others; for I shall take the +liberty to kiss them all (great and small) as you are to be my proxy. + +In spite of the rain, which I think continued with very short +intervals till the beginning of this month, and quite effaced the +summer from the year, I made a shift to pass May and June, not +disagreeably, in Kent. I was surprised at the beauty of the road +to Canterbury, which (I know not why) had not struck me in the same +manner before. The whole country is a rich and well cultivated garden; +orchards, cherry grounds, hop grounds, intermixed with corn and +frequent villages, gentle risings covered with wood, and everywhere +the Thames and Medway breaking in upon the landscape, with all their +navigation. It was indeed owing to the bad weather that the whole +scene was dressed in that tender emerald green, which one usually sees +only for a fortnight in the opening of Spring; and this continued till +I left the country. My residence was eight miles east of Canterbury, +in a little quiet valley on the skirts of Barham Down; in these parts +the whole soil is chalk, and whenever it holds up, in half an hour +it is dry enough to walk out. I took the opportunity of three or four +days fine weather to go into the Isle of Thanet, saw Margate (which +is Bartholomew Fair by the seaside), Ramsgate, and other places there; +and so came by Sandwich, Deal, Dover, Folkestone, and Hythe, back +again. The coast is not like Hartlepool, there are no rocks, but +only chalky cliffs, of no great height, till you come to Dover. There +indeed they are noble and picturesque, and the opposite coasts of +France begin to bound your view, which was left before to range +unlimited by anything but the horizon; yet it is by no means a +_shipless_ sea, but everywhere peopled with white sails and vessels of +all sizes in motion; and take notice (except in the Isle, which is all +corn fields, and has very little enclosure), there are in all places +hedgerows and tall trees, even within a few yards of the beach, +particularly Hythe stands on an eminence covered with wood. I shall +confess we had fires of a night (aye and a day too) several times even +in June: but don't go too far and take advantage of this, for it was +the most untoward year that ever I remember. + +Your friend Rousseau (I doubt) grows tired of Mr. Davenport and +Derbyshire; he has picked a quarrel with David Hume, and writes +him letters of fourteen pages folio, upbraiding him with all his +_noirceurs_; take one only as a specimen. He says, that at Calais +they chanced to sleep in the same room together, and that he overheard +David talking in his sleep, and saying, '_Ah! je le tiens, ce +Jean-Jacques là_.' In short (I fear), for want of persecution and +admiration (for these are his real complaints), he will go back to the +Continent. + +What shall I say to you about the ministry? I am as angry as a +common council man of London about my Lord Chatham; but a little more +patient, and will hold my tongue till the end of the year. In the +meantime I do mutter in secret, and to you, that to quit the House of +Commons, his natural strength, to sap his own popularity and grandeur +(which no one but himself could have done) by assuming a foolish +title; and to hope that he could win by it, and attach to him a court +that hate him, and will dismiss him as soon as ever they dare, was the +weakest thing that ever was done by so great a man. Had it not been +for this, I should have rejoiced at the breach between him and Lord +Temple, and at the union between him and the Duke of Grafton and +Mr. Conway: but patience! we shall see! Stonehewer perhaps is in the +country (for he hoped for a month's leave of absence), and if you see +him you will learn more than I can tell you. + + + + +HORACE WALPOLE + +1717-1797 + + + +To RICHARD WEST + +_Floods in the Arno_ + + +From Florence, _Nov_. 1740. + +Child, I am going to let you see your shocking proceedings with us. On +my conscience, I believe 'tis three months since you wrote to either +Gray or me. If you had been ill, Ashton would have said so; and if +you had been dead, the gazettes would have said it. If you had been +angry,--but that's impossible; how can one quarrel with folks three +thousand miles off? We are neither divines nor commentators, and +consequently have not hated you on paper. 'Tis to show that my charity +for you cannot be interrupted at this distance that I write to you, +though I have nothing to say, for 'tis a bad time for small news; and +when emperors and czarinas are dying all up and down Europe, one can't +pretend to tell you of anything that happens within our sphere. Not +but that we have our accidents too. If you have had a great wind in +England, we have had a great water at Florence. We have been trying +to set out every day, and pop upon you[1] ... It is fortunate that +we stayed, for I don't know what had become of us! Yesterday, with +violent rains, there came flouncing down from the mountains such a +flood that it floated the whole city. The jewellers on the Old Bridge +removed their commodities, and in two hours after the bridge was +cracked. The torrent broke down the quays and drowned several +coach-horses, which are kept here in stables under ground. We were +moated into our house all day, which is near the Arno, and had the +miserable spectacles of the ruins that were washed along with the +hurricane. There was a cart with two oxen not quite dead, and four men +in it drowned: but what was ridiculous, there came tiding along a +fat hay-cock, with a hen and her eggs, and a cat. The torrent is +considerably abated; but we expect terrible news from the country, +especially from Pisa, which stands so much lower, and nearer the +sea. There is a stone here, which, when the water overflows, Pisa is +entirely flooded. The water rose two ells yesterday above that stone. +Judge! + +For this last month we have passed our time but dully, all diversions +silenced on the Emperor's death, and everybody out of town. I have +seen nothing but cards and dull pairs of cicisbeos. I have literally +seen so much of love and pharaoh since being here, that I believe I +shall never love either again so long as I live. Then I am got into +a horrid lazy way of a morning. I don't believe I should know seven +o'clock in the morning again if I was to see it. But I am returning to +England, and shall grow very solemn and wise! Are you wise? Dear West, +have pity on one who has done nothing of gravity for these two years, +and do laugh sometimes. We do nothing else, and have contracted such +formidable ideas of the good people of England that we are already +nourishing great black eyebrows and great black beards, and teasing +our countenances into wrinkles. + +[Footnote 1: MS. torn here.] + + + +To RICHARD BENTLEY + +_Pictures and Garrick_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 15 _Aug_. 1755. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +Though I wrote to you so lately, and have certainly nothing new to +tell you, I can't help scribbling a line to you to-night, as I am +going to Mr. Rigby's for a week or ten days, and must thank you first +for the three pictures. One of them charms me, the Mount Orgueil, +which is absolutely fine; the sea, and shadow upon it, are masterly. +The other two I don't, at least won't, take for finished. If you +please, Elizabeth Castle shall be Mr. Müntz's performance: indeed I +see nothing of you in it. I do reconnoitre you in the Hercules and +Nessus; but in both, your colours are dirty, carelessly dirty: in +your distant hills you are improved, and not hard. The figures are too +large--I don't mean in the Elizabeth Castle, for there they are neat; +but the centaur, though he dies as well as Garrick can, is outrageous. +Hercules and Deianira are by no means so: he is sentimental, and she +most improperly sorrowful. However, I am pleased enough to beg you +would continue. As soon as Mr. Müntz returns from the Vine, you shall +have a good supply of colours. In the meantime why give up the good +old trade of drawing? Have you no Indian ink, no soot-water, no snuff, +no coat of onion, no juice of anything? If you love me, draw: you +would if you knew the real pleasure you can give me. I have been +studying all your drawings; and next to architecture and trees, I +determine that you succeed in nothing better than animals. Now (as +the newspapers say) the late ingenious Mr. Seymour is dead, I would +recommend horses and greyhounds to you. I should think you capable of +a landscape or two with delicious bits of architecture. I have known +you execute the light of a torch or lanthorn so well, that if it +was called Schalken, a housekeeper at Hampton Court or Windsor, or +a Catherine at Strawberry Hill, would show it, and say it cost ten +thousand pounds. Nay, if I could believe that you would ever execute +any more designs I proposed to you, I would give you a hint for a +picture that struck me t'other day in Péréfixe's _Life of Henry IV_. +He says, the king was often seen lying upon a common straw-bed among +the soldiers, with a piece of brown bread in one hand, and a bit +of charcoal in t'other, to draw an encampment, or town that he was +besieging. If this is not character and a picture, I don't know what +is. + +I dined to-day at Garrick's: there were the Duke of Grafton, Lord and +Lady Rochford, Lady Holderness, the crooked Mostyn, and Dabreu the +Spanish minister; two regents, of which one is lord chamberlain, the +other groom of the stole; and the wife of a secretary of state. This +is being _sur un assez bon ton_ for a player! Don't you want to ask me +how I like him? Do want, and I will tell you.--I like her exceedingly; +her behaviour is all sense, and all sweetness too. I don't know how, +he does not improve so fast upon me: there is a great deal of parts, +and vivacity, and variety, but there is a great deal too of mimicry +and burlesque. I am very ungrateful, for he flatters me abundantly; +but unluckily I know it. I was accustomed to it enough when my father +was first minister: on his fall I lost it all at once: and since that, +I have lived with Mr. Chute, who is all vehemence; with Mr. Fox, who +is all disputation; with Sir Charles Williams, who has no time from +flattering himself; with Gray, who does not hate to find fault with +me; with Mr. Conway, who is all sincerity; and with you and Mr. Rigby, +who have always laughed at me in a good-natured way. I don't know how, +but I think I like all this as well--I beg his pardon, Mr. Raftor does +flatter me; but I should be a cormorant for praise, if I could swallow +it whole as he gives it me. + +Sir William Yonge, who has been extinct so long, is at last dead; and +the war, which began with such a flirt of vivacity, is I think gone to +sleep. General Braddock has not yet sent over to claim the surname of +Americanus. But why should I take pains to show you in how many ways I +know nothing?--Why; I can tell it you in one word--why, Mr. Cambridge +knows nothing!--I wish you good-night! + + + +To GEORGE, LORD LYTTELTON + +_Gray's Odes_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 25 _Aug_. 1757. + +MY LORD, + +It is a satisfaction one can't often receive, to show a thing of +great merit to a man of great taste. Your Lordship's approbation is +conclusive, and it stamps a disgrace on the age, who have not given +themselves the trouble to see any beauties in these _Odes_ of Mr. +Gray. They have cast their eyes over them, found them obscure, and +looked no further, yet perhaps no compositions ever had more sublime +beauties than are in each. I agree with your Lordship in preferring +the last upon the whole; the three first stanzas and half, down to +_agonizing King_, are in my opinion equal to anything in any language +I understand. Yet the three last of the first Ode please me very near +as much. The description of Shakespeare is worthy Shakespeare: the +account of Milton's blindness, though perhaps not strictly defensible, +is very majestic. The character of Dryden's poetry is as animated as +what it paints. I can even like the epithet _Orient_; as the last is +the empire of fancy and poesy, I would allow its livery to be erected +into a colour. I think _blue-eyed Pleasures_ is allowable: when Homer +gave eyes of what hue he pleased to his Queen-Goddesses, sure Mr. Gray +may tinge those of their handmaids. + +In answer to your Lordship's objection to _many-twinkling_, in that +beautiful epode, I will quote authority to which you will yield. As +Greek as the expression is, it struck Mrs. Garrick, and she says, on +that whole picture, that Mr. Gray is the only poet who ever understood +dancing. + +These faults I think I can defend, and can excuse others; even the +great obscurity of the latter, for I do not see it in the first; the +subject of it has been taken for music,--it is the Power and Progress +of Harmonious Poetry. I think his objection to prefixing a title to it +was wrong--that Mr. Cooke published an ode with such a title. If the +Louis the Great, whom Voltaire has discovered in Hungary, had not +disappeared from history himself, would not Louis Quatorze have +annihilated him? I was aware that the second would have darknesses, +and prevailed for the insertion of what notes there are, and would +have had more. Mr. Gray said, whatever wanted explanation did not +deserve it, but that sentence was never so far from being an axiom as +in the present case. Not to mention how he had shackled himself with +strophe, antistrophe, and epode (yet acquitting himself nobly), +the nature of prophecy forbade him naming his kings. To me they are +apparent enough--yet I am far from thinking either piece perfect, +though with what faults they have, I hold them in the first rank of +genius and poetry. The second strophe of the first Ode is inexcusable, +nor do I wonder your Lordship blames it; even when one does understand +it, perhaps the last line is too turgid. I am not fond of the +antistrophe that follows. In the second Ode he made some corrections +for the worse. _Brave Urion_ was originally _stern_: brave is insipid +and commonplace. In the third antistrophe, _leave me unblessed, +unpitied_, stood at first, _leave your despairing Caradoc_. But the +capital faults in my opinion are these--what punishment was it to +Edward I to hear that his grandson would conquer France? or is so +common an event as Edward III being deserted on his death-bed, worthy +of being made part of a curse that was to avenge a nation? I can't +cast my eye here, without crying out on those beautiful lines that +follow, _Fair smiles the morn_? Though the images are extremely +complicated, what painting in the whirlwind, likened to a lion lying +in ambush for his evening prey, _in grim repose_. Thirst and hunger +mocking Richard II appear to me too ludicrously like the devils in +_The Tempest_, that whisk away the banquet from the shipwrecked Dukes. +From thence to the conclusion of Queen Elizabeth's portrait, which he +has faithfully copied from Speed, in the passage where she humbled the +Polish Ambassador, I admire. I can even allow that image of Rapture +hovering like an ancient grotesque, though it strictly has little +meaning: but there I take my leave--the last stanza has no beauties +for me. I even think its obscurity fortunate, for the allusions to +Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, are not only weak, but the two last +returning again, after appearing so gloriously in the first Ode, and +with so much fainter colours, enervate the whole conclusion. + +Your Lordship sees that I am no enthusiast to Mr. Gray: his great +lustre has not dazzled me, as his obscurity seems to have blinded his +contemporaries. Indeed, I do not think that they ever admired him, +except in his Churchyard, though the Eton Ode was far its superior, +and is certainly not obscure. The Eton Ode is perfect: those of more +masterly execution have defects, yet not to admire them is total want +of taste. I have an aversion to tame poetry; at best, perhaps the art +is the sublimest of the _difficiles nugae_; to measure or rhyme prose +is trifling without being difficult. + + + +To GEORGE MONTAGU + +_At Lady Suffolk's_ + + +Arlington Street, 11 _Jan_. 1764. + +It is an age, I own, since I wrote to you; but except politics, +what was there to send you? and for politics, the present are too +contemptible to be recorded by anybody but journalists, gazetteers, +and such historians! The ordinary of Newgate, or Mr.----, who write +for their monthly half-crown, and who are indifferent whether Lord +Bute, Lord Melcombe, or Maclean is their hero, may swear they +find diamonds on dunghills; but you will excuse _me_, if I let our +correspondence lie dormant rather than deal in such trash. I am forced +to send Lord Hertford and Sir Horace Mann such garbage, because +they are out of England, and the sea softens and makes palatable any +potion, as it does claret; but unless I can divert _you_, I had rather +wait till we can laugh together; the best employment for friends, +who do not mean to pick one another's pockets, nor make a property of +either's frankness. Instead of politics, therefore, I shall amuse you +to-day with a fairy tale. + +I was desired to be at my Lady Suffolk's on New Year's morn, where I +found Lady Temple and others. On the toilet Miss Hotham spied a small +round box. She seized it with all the eagerness and curiosity of +eleven years. In it was wrapped up a heart-diamond ring, and a paper +in which, in a hand as small as Buckinger's, who used to write the +Lord's Prayer in the compass of a silver penny, were the following +lines: + + Sent by a sylph, unheard, unseen, + A new-year's gift from Mab our queen: + But tell it not, for if you do, + You will be pinch'd all black and blue. + Consider well, what a disgrace, + To show abroad your mottled face: + Then seal your lips, put on the ring, + And sometimes think of Ob. the King. + +You will easily guess that Lady Temple was the poetess, and that we +were delighted with the genteelness of the thought and execution. The +child, you may imagine, was less transported with the poetry than the +present. Her attention, however, was hurried backwards and forwards +from the ring to a new coat, that she had been trying on when sent for +down; impatient to revisit her coat, and to show the ring to her maid, +she whisked upstairs; when she came down again, she found a letter +sealed, and lying on the floor--new exclamations! Lady Suffolk bade +her open it: here it is: + + Your tongue, too nimble for your sense, + Is guilty of a high offence; + Hath introduced unkind debate, + And topsy-turvy turn'd our state. + In gallantry I sent the ring, + The token of a love-sick king: + Under fair Mab's auspicious name + From me the trifling present came. + You blabb'd the news in Suffolk's ear; + The tattling zephyrs brought it here, + As Mab was indolently laid + Under a poppy's spreading shade. + The jealous queen started in rage; + She kick'd her crown, and beat her page: + 'Bring me my magic wand ', she cries; + 'Under that primrose, there it lies; + I'll change the silly, saucy chit, + Into a flea, a louse, a nit, + A worm, a grasshopper, a rat, + An owl, a monkey, hedgehog, bat. + But hold, why not by fairy art + Transform the wretch, into--? + Ixion once a cloud embraced, + By Jove and jealousy well placed; + What sport to see proud Oberon stare + And flirt it with a--!' + Then thrice she stamped the trembling ground, + And thrice she waved her wand around; + When I, endow'd with greater skill, + And less inclined to do you ill, + Mutter'd some words, withheld her arm, + And kindly stopp'd the unfinish'd charm. + But though not changed to owl or bat, + Or something more indelicate; + Yet, as your tongue has run too fast, + Your boasted beauty must not last. + No more shall frolic Cupid lie + In ambuscade in either eye, + From thence to aim his keenest dart + To captivate each youthful heart: + No more shall envious misses pine + At charms now flown, that once were thine: + No more, since you so ill behave, + Shall injured Oberon be your slave. + +There is one word which I could wish had not been there, though it is +prettily excused afterwards. The next day my Lady Suffolk desired I +would write her a patent for appointing Lady Temple poet laureate to +the fairies. I was excessively out of order with a pain in my stomach, +which I had had for ten days, and was fitter to write verses like +a poet laureate, than for making one; however, I was going home to +dinner alone, and at six I sent her some lines, which you ought to +have seen how sick I was, to excuse; but first, I must tell you my +tale methodically. The next morning by nine o'clock Miss Hotham (she +must forgive me twenty years hence for saying she was eleven, for I +recollect she is but ten) arrived at Lady Temple's, her face and neck +all spotted with saffron, and limping. 'Oh, madam!' said she, 'I am +undone for ever if you do not assist me!' 'Lord, child,' cried my Lady +Temple, 'what is the matter?' thinking she had hurt herself, or lost +the ring, and that she was stolen out before her aunt was up. 'Oh, +madam,' said the girl, 'nobody but you can assist me!' My Lady Temple +protests the child acted her part so well as to deceive her. 'What can +I do for you?' 'Dear madam, take this load from my back; nobody but +you can.' Lady Temple turned her round, and upon her back was tied a +child's waggon. In it were three tiny purses of blue velvet; in one of +them a silver cup, in another a crown of laurel, and in the third +four new silver pennies, with the patent, signed at top, 'Oberon +Imperator'; and two sheets of warrants strung together with blue silk +according to form; and at top an office seal of wax and a chaplet of +cut paper on it. The warrants were these: + + From the Royal Mews: + A waggon with the draught horses, delivered by + command without fee. + + From the Lord Chamberlain's Office: + A warrant with the royal sign manual, delivered + by command without fee, being first entered + in the office books. + + From the Lord Steward's Office: + A butt of sack, delivered without fee or gratuity, + with an order for returning the cask for the + use of the office, by command. + + From the Great Wardrobe: + Three velvet bags, delivered without fee, by + command. + + From the Treasurer of the Household's Office: + A year's salary paid free from land-tax, poundage, + or any other deduction whatever, by command. + + From the Jewel Office: + A silver butt, a silver cup, a wreath of bays, by + command without fee. + +Then came the Patent: + + By these presents be it known, + To all who bend before our throne, + Fays and fairies, elves and sprites, + Beauteous dames and gallant knights, + That we, Oberon the grand, + Emperor of fairy-land, + King of moonshine, prince of dreams, + Lord of Aganippe's streams, + Baron of the dimpled isles + That lie in pretty maidens' smiles, + Arch-treasurer of all the graces + Dispersed through fifty lovely faces, + Sovereign of the slipper's order, + With all the rites thereon that border, + Defender of the sylphic faith, + Declare--and thus your monarch saith: + Whereas there is a noble dame, + Whom mortals Countess Temple name, + To whom ourself did erst impart + The choicest secrets of our art, + Taught her to tune the harmonious line + To our own melody divine, + Taught her the graceful negligence, + Which, scorning art and veiling sense, + Achieves that conquest o'er the heart + Sense seldom gains, and never art; + This lady, 'tis our royal will, + Our laureate's vacant seat should fill: + A chaplet of immortal bays + Shall crown her brow and guard her lays; + Of nectar sack an acorn cup + Be at her board each year filled up; + And as each quarter feast comes round + A silver penny shall be found + Within the compass of her shoe-- + And so we bid you all adieu! + +Given at our palace of Cowslip Castle, the shortest night of the year. + +OBERON. + +And underneath, + +HOTHAMINA. + +How shall I tell you the greatest curiosity of the story? The whole +plan and execution of the second act was laid and adjusted by my +Lady Suffolk herself and Will. Chetwynd, Master of the Mint, Lord +Bolingbroke's Oroonoho-Chetwynd; he fourscore, she past seventy-six; +and what is more, much worse than I was, for, added to her deafness, +she has been confined these three weeks with the gout in her eyes, and +was actually then in misery, and had been without sleep. What +spirits, and cleverness, and imagination, at that age, and under those +afflicting circumstances! You reconnoitre her old court knowledge, how +charmingly she has applied it! Do you wonder I pass so many hours and +evenings with her? Alas! I had like to have lost her this morning! +They had poulticed her feet to draw the gout downwards, and began to +succeed yesterday, but to-day it flew up into her head, and she was +almost in convulsions with the agony, and screamed dreadfully; proof +enough how ill she was, for her patience and good breeding make her +for ever sink and conceal what she feels. This evening the gout has +been driven back to her foot, and I trust she is out of danger. Her +loss would be irreparable to me at Twickenham, where she is by far the +most rational and agreeable company I have.... + + + +To LADY HERVEY + +_A quiet life_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 11 _June_, 1765. + +I am almost as much ashamed, Madam, to plead the true cause of my +faults towards your ladyship, as to have been guilty of any neglect. +It is scandalous, at my age, to have been carried backwards and +forwards to balls and suppers and parties by very young people, as +I was all last week. My resolutions of growing old and staid are +admirable: I wake with a sober plan, and intend to pass the day with +my friends--then comes the Duke of Richmond, and hurries me down to +Whitehall to dinner--then the Duchess of Grafton sends for me to too +in Upper Grosvenor Street--before I can get thither, I am begged +to step to Kensington, to give Mrs. Anne Pitt my opinion about +a bow-window--after the loo, I am to march back to Whitehall to +supper--and after that, am to walk with Miss Pelham on the terrace +till two in the morning, because it is moonlight and her chair is not +come. All this does not help my morning laziness; and by the time I +have breakfasted, fed my birds and my squirrels, and dressed, there is +an auction ready. In short, Madam, this was my life last week, and +is I think every week, with the addition of forty episodes.--Yet, +ridiculous as it is, I send it to your ladyship, because I had +rather you should laugh at me than be angry. I cannot offend you in +intention, but I fear my sins of omission are equal to a good many +Christian's. Pray forgive me. I really will begin to be between forty +and fifty by the time I am fourscore: and I truly believe I shall +bring my resolutions within compass; for I have not chalked out any +particular business that will take me above forty years more; so that, +if I do not get acquainted with the grandchildren of all the present +age, I shall lead a quiet sober life yet before I die.... + + + +To THE REV. WILLIAM COLE + +_Gray's death_ + + +Paris, 12 _Aug_. 1771. + +DEAR SIR, + +I am excessively shocked at reading in the papers that Mr. Gray is +dead! I wish to God you may be able to tell me it is not true! Yet +in this painful uncertainty I must rest some days! None of my +acquaintance are in London. I do not know to whom to apply but to you. +Alas! I fear in vain! Too many circumstances speak it true! the detail +is exact;--a second paper arrived by the same post, and does not +contradict it--and what is worse, I saw him but four or five +days before I came hither; he had been to Kensington for the air, +complained of gout flying about him, of sensations of it in his +stomach, and indeed, thought him changed, and that he looked +ill--still I had not the least idea of his being in danger.--I started +up from my chair, when I read the paragraph--a cannon-ball could +not have surprised me more! The shock but ceased, to give way to my +concern; and my hopes are too ill founded to mitigate it. If nobody +has the charity to write to me, my anxiety must continue till the end +of the month, for I shall set out on my return on the 26th; and unless +you receive this time enough for your answer to leave London on the +20th, in the evening, I cannot meet it, till I find it in Arlington +Street, whither I beg you to direct it. + +If the event is but too true, pray add to this melancholy service, +that of telling me any circumstances you know of his death. Our long, +very long friendship, and his genius, must endear to me everything +that relates to him. What writings has he left? Who are his executors? +I should earnestly wish, if he has destined anything to the public, +to print it at my press--it would do me honour, and would give me an +opportunity of expressing what I feel for him. Methinks, as we grow +old, our only business here is to adorn the graves of our friends, or +to dig our own. + + + +To THE REV. WILLIAM MASON + +_The quarrel with Gray_ + + +2 _March_, 1773. + +What shall I say? How shall I thank you for the kind manner in which +you submit your papers to my correction? But if you are friendly, I +must be just. I am so far from being dissatisfied, that I must beg to +shorten your pen, and in that respect only would I wish, with regard +to myself, to alter your text. I am conscious that in the beginning of +the differences between Gray and me, the fault was mine. I was +young, too fond of my own diversions; nay, I do not doubt, too much +intoxicated by indulgence, vanity, and the insolence of my situation, +as a prime minister's son, not to have been inattentive to the +feelings of one, I blush to say it, that I knew was obliged to me; +of one, whom presumption and folly made me deem not very superior +in parts, though I have since felt my infinite inferiority to him. +I treated him insolently. He loved me, and I did not think he did. I +reproached him with the difference between us, when he acted from the +conviction of knowing that he was my superior. I often disregarded +his wish of seeing places, which I would not quit my own amusements to +visit, though I offered to send him thither without me. Forgive me, +if I say that his temper was not conciliating, at the same time that I +will confess to you that he acted a most friendly part, had I had the +sense to take advantage of it. He freely told me my faults. I declared +I did not wish to hear them, nor would correct them. You will not +wonder, that with the dignity of his spirit, and the obstinate +carelessness of mine, the breach must have widened till we became +incompatible. + +After this confession, I fear you will think I fall short in the +words I wish to have substituted for some of yours. If you think them +inadequate to the state of the case, as I own they are, preserve this +letter, and let some future Sir John Dalrymple produce it to load my +memory; but I own I do not desire that any ambiguity should aid his +invention to forge an account for me. If you have no objection, I +would propose your narrative should run thus ... and contain no more, +till a proper time shall come for publishing the truth, as I have +stated it to you. While I am living, it is not pleasant to see my +private disagreements discussed in magazines and newspapers. + + + +To THE COUNTESS OF UPPER OSSORY + +_Fashionable intelligence_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 27 _March_, 1773. + +What play makes you laugh very much, and yet is a very wretched +comedy? Dr. Goldsmith's _She Stoops to Conquer_. Stoops indeed!--so +she does, that is the Muse; she is draggled up to the knees, and has +trudged, I believe, from Southwark fair. The whole view of the +piece is low humour, and no humour is in it. All the merit is in the +situations, which are comic; the heroine has no more modesty than Lady +Bridget, and the author's wit is as much _manqué_ as the lady's; but +some of the characters are well acted, and Woodward speaks a poor +prologue, written by Garrick, admirably. + +You perceive, Madam, that I have boldly sallied to a play; but the +heat of the house and of this sultry March half killed me, yet I limp +about as if I was young and pleased. From the play I travelled +to Upper Grosvenor Street, to Lady Edgecumbe's, supped at Lady +Hertford's. That Maccaroni rake, Lady Powis, who is just come to her +estate and spending it, calling in with news of a fire in the Strand +at past one in the morning, Lady Hertford, Lady Powis, Mrs. Howe, and +I, set out to see it, and were within an inch of seeing the Adelphi +buildings burnt to the ground. I was to have gone to the Oratorio +next night for Miss Linley's sake, but, being engaged to the French +ambassador's ball afterwards, I thought I was not quite Hercules +enough for so many labours, and declined the former. + +The house was all arbours and bowers, but rather more approaching to +Calcutta, where so many English were stewed to death; for as the Queen +would not dis-Maid of Honour herself of Miss Vernon till after the +Oratorio, the ball-room was not opened till she arrived, and we were +penned together in the little hall till we could not breathe. The +quadrilles were very pretty: Mrs. Darner, Lady Sefton, Lady Melbourne, +and the Princess Czartoriski in blue satin, with blond and _collets +montés à la reine Elizabeth_; Lord Robert Spencer, Mr. Fitzpatrick, +Lord Carlisle, and I forget whom, in like dresses with red sashes, +_derouge_, black hats with diamond loops and a few feathers before, +began; then the Henri Quatres and Quatresses, who were Lady Craven, +Miss Minching, the two Misses Vernons, Mr. Storer, Mr. Hanger, the Duc +de Lauzun, and George Damer, all in white, the men with black hats and +white feathers napping behind, danced another quadrille, and then both +quadrilles joined; after which Mrs. Hobart, all in gauze and spangles, +like a spangle-pudding, a Miss I forget, Lord Edward Bentinck, and +a Mr. Corbet, danced a _pas-de-quatre_, in which Mrs. Hobart indeed +performed admirably. + +The fine Mrs. Matthews in white, trimmed down all the neck and +petticoat with scarlet cock's feathers, appeared like a new macaw +brought from Otaheite; but of all the pretty creatures next to the +Carrara (who was not there) was Mrs. Bunbury; so that with her I was +in love till one o'clock, and then came home to bed. The Duchess of +Queensberry had a round gown of rose-colour, with a man's cape, which, +with the stomacher and sleeves, was all trimmed with mother-of-pearl +earrings. This Pindaric gown was a sudden thought to surprise the +Duke, with whom she had dined in another dress. Did you ever see so +good a joke?... + +Lord Chesterfield was dead before my last letter that foretold his +death set out. Alas! I shall have no more of his lively sayings, +Madam, to send you. Oh yes! I have his last: being told of the quarrel +in Spitalfields, and even that Mrs. F[itzroy] struck Miss P[oole], he +said, I always thought Mrs. F. a _striking_ beauty.' + +Thus, having given away all his wit to the last farthing, he has left +nothing but some poor witticisms in his will, tying up his heir by +forfeitures and jokes from going to Newmarket. + +I wrote this letter at Strawberry, and find nothing new in town to add +but a cold north-east that has brought back all our fires and furs. +Pray tell me a little of your Ladyship's futurity, and whether you +will deign to pass through London. + + + +TO THE REV. WILLIAM COLE + +_Antiquaries and authors_ + + +Arlington Street, 27 _April_, 1773. + +... Mr. Gough wants to be introduced to me! Indeed! I would see +him;... but he is so dull that he would only be troublesome--and +besides, you know I shun authors, and would never have been one +myself, if it obliged me to keep such bad company. They are always +in earnest, and think their profession serious, and will dwell upon +trifles, and reverence learning. I laugh at all these things, and +write only to laugh at them, and divert myself. None of us are authors +of any consequence; and it is the most ridiculous of all vanities to +be vain of being _mediocre_. A page in a great author humbles me +to the dust; and the conversation of those that are not superior +to myself, reminds me of what will be thought of myself. I blush to +flatter them, or to be flattered by them, and should dread letters +being published some time or other, in which they would relate our +interviews, and we should appear like those puny conceited witlings +in Shenstone's and Hughes's _Correspondence_, who give themselves airs +from being in possession of the soil of Parnassus for the time being; +as peers are proud, because they enjoy the estates of great men who +went before them. Mr. Gough is very welcome to see Strawberry Hill; or +I would help him to any scraps in my possession, that would assist +his publications; though he is one of those industrious who are +only re-burying the dead--but I cannot be acquainted with him. It is +contrary to my system and my humour; and besides, I know nothing +of barrows, and Danish intrenchments, and Saxon barbarisms, and +Phoenician characters--in short, I know nothing of those ages that +knew nothing--how then should I be of use to modern litterati? All the +Scotch metaphysicians have sent me their works. I did not read one of +them, because I do not understand what is not understood by those that +write about it; and I did not get acquainted with one of the writers. +I should like to be acquainted with Mr. Anstey, even though he wrote +Lord Buckhorse, or with the author of the _Heroic Epistle_--I have no +thirst to know the rest of my contemporaries, from the absurd bombast +of Dr. Johnson down to the silly Dr. Goldsmith; though the latter +changeling has had bright gleams of parts, and though the former had +sense, till he changed it for words, and sold it for a pension. Don't +think me scornful. Recollect that I have seen Pope, and lived with +Gray. Adieu! + + + +TO THE MISS BERRYS + +_Their first meeting_ + + +Tuesday night, 8 o'clock, 17 _Sept._ 1793. + +My beloved spouses, + +Whom I love better than Solomon loved his one spouse--or his one +thousand. I lament that the summer is over; not because of its +iniquity, but because you two made it so delightful to me, that six +weeks of gout could not sour it. Pray take care of yourselves--not +for your own sakes, but for mine; for, as I have just had my quota of +gout, I may, possibly, expect to see another summer; and, as you allow +that I do know my own, and when I wish for anything and have it, am +entirely satisfied, you may depend upon it that I shall be as happy +with a third summer, if I reach it, as I have been with the two last. + +Consider, that I have been threescore years and ten looking for a +society that I perfectly like; and at last there dropped out of the +clouds into Lady Herries's room two young gentlewomen, who I so little +thought were sent thither on purpose for me, that when I was told they +were the charming Miss Berrys, I would not even go to the side of the +chamber where they sat. But, as Fortune never throws anything at one's +head without hitting one, I soon found out that the charming Berrys +were precisely _ce qu'il me fallait_; and that though young enough to +be my great-grand-daughters, lovely enough to turn the heads of all +our youths, and sensible enough, if said youths have any brains, to +set all their heads to rights again. Yes, sweet damsels, I have found +that you can bear to pass half your time with an antediluvian, without +discovering any _ennui_ or disgust; though his greatest merit towards +you is, that he is not one of those old fools who fancy they are in +love in their dotage. I have no such vagary; though I am not +sorry that some folks think I am so absurd, since it frets their +selfishness. + + + + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH + +1728-1774 + + + +TO HIS MOTHER + +_At Cork_ + + +[c. 1751.] + +My dear mother, + +If you will sit down and calmly listen to what I say, you shall be +fully resolved in every one of those many questions you have asked me. +I went to Cork and converted my horse, which you prize so much higher +than Fiddleback, into cash, took my passage in a ship bound for +America, and, at the same time, paid the captain for my freight and +all the other expenses of my voyage. But it so happened that the wind +did not answer for three weeks; and you know, mother, that I could not +command the elements. My misfortune was, that, when the wind served, I +happened to be with a party in the country, and my friend the captain +never inquired after me, but set sail with as much indifference as if +I had been on board. The remainder of my time I employed in the city +and its environs, viewing everything curious; and you know no one can +starve while he has money in his pocket. + +Reduced, however, to my last two guineas, I began to think of my +dear mother and friends whom I had left behind me, and so bought +that generous beast Fiddleback, and made adieu to Cork with only five +shillings in my pocket. This, to be sure, was but a scanty allowance +for man and horse towards a journey of above a hundred miles; but I +did not despair, for I knew I must find friends on the road. + +I recollected particularly an old and faithful acquaintance I made at +college, who had often and earnestly pressed me to spend a summer +with him, and he lived but eight miles from Cork. This circumstance +of vicinity he would expatiate on to me with peculiar emphasis. 'We +shall,' says he, 'enjoy the delights of both city and country, and you +shall command my stable and my purse.' + +However, upon the way, I met a poor woman all in tears, who told me +her husband had been arrested for a debt he was not able to pay, and +that his eight children must now starve, bereaved as they were of his +industry, which had been their only support. I thought myself at home, +being not far from my good friend's house, and therefore parted with +a moiety of all my store; and pray, mother, ought I not to have given +her the other half-crown, for what she got would be of little use to +her? However, I soon arrived at the mansion of my affectionate friend, +guarded by the vigilance of a huge mastiff, who flew at me, and +would have torn me to pieces but for the assistance of a woman, whose +countenance was not less grim than that of the dog; yet she with great +humanity relieved me from the jaws of this Cerberus, and was prevailed +on to carry up my name to her master. + +Without suffering me to wait long, my old friend, who was then +recovering from a severe fit of sickness, came down in his nightcap, +nightgown, and slippers, and embraced me with the most cordial +welcome, showed me in, and after giving me a history of his +indisposition, assured me that he considered himself peculiarly +fortunate in having under his roof the man he most loved on earth, and +whose stay with him must, above all things, contribute to his perfect +recovery. I now repented sorely I had not given the poor woman the +other half-crown, as I thought all my bills of humanity would be +punctually answered by this worthy man. I revealed to him my whole +soul; I opened to him all my distresses; and freely owned that I +had but one half-crown in my pocket; but that now, like a ship after +weathering out the storm, I considered myself secure in a safe and +hospitable harbour. He made no answer, but walked about the room, +rubbing his hands as one in deep study. This I imputed to the +sympathetic feelings of a tender heart, which increased my esteem for +him, and as that increased, I gave the most favourable interpretation +to his silence. I construed it into delicacy of sentiment, as if he +dreaded to wound my pride by expressing his commiseration in words, +leaving his generous conduct to speak for itself. + +It now approached six o'clock in the evening; and as I had eaten no +breakfast, and as my spirits were raised, my appetite for dinner grew +uncommonly keen. At length the old woman came into the room with two +plates, one spoon, and a dirty cloth which she laid upon the table. +This appearance, without increasing my spirits, did not diminish my +appetite. My protectress soon returned with a small bowl of sago, a +small porringer of sour milk, a loaf of stale brown bread, and +the heel of an old cheese all over crawling with mites. My friend +apologized that his illness obliged him to live on slops, and that +better fare was not in the house; observing, at the same time, that +a milk diet was certainly the most healthful; and at eight o'clock he +again recommended a regular life, declaring that for his part he would +lie down with the lamb and rise with the lark. My hunger was at this +time so exceedingly sharp that I wished for another slice of the loaf, +but was obliged to go to bed without even that refreshment. + +This lenten entertainment I had received made me resolve to depart as +soon as possible; accordingly, next morning, when I spoke of going, +he did not oppose my resolution; he rather commended my design, adding +some very sage counsel upon the occasion. 'To be sure,' said he, 'the +longer you stay away from your mother, the more you will grieve her +and your other friends; and possibly they are already afflicted at +hearing of this foolish expedition you have made.' Notwithstanding all +this, and without any hope of softening such a sordid heart, I again +renewed the tale of my distress, and asking 'how he thought I could +travel above a hundred miles upon one half-crown?' I begged to borrow +a single guinea, which I assured him should be repaid with thanks. +'And you know, sir,' said I, 'it is no more than I have often done for +you.' To which he firmly answered, 'Why, look you, Mr. Goldsmith, that +is neither here nor there. I have paid you all you ever lent me, and +this sickness of mine has left me bare of cash. But I have bethought +myself of a conveyance for you; sell your horse, and I will furnish +you with a much better one to ride on.' I readily grasped at his +proposal, and begged to see the nag; on which he led me to his +bedchamber, and from under the bed he pulled out a stout oak stick. +'Here he is,' said he; 'take this in your hand, and it will carry you +to your mother's with more safety than such a horse as you ride.' I +was in doubt, when I got it into my hand, whether I should not in the +first place apply it to his pate; but a rap at the street-door +made the wretch fly to it, and when I returned to the parlour, +he introduced me, as if nothing of the kind had happened, to the +gentleman who entered, as Mr. Goldsmith, his most ingenious and worthy +friend, of whom he had so often heard him speak with rapture. I could +scarcely compose myself; and must have betrayed indignation in my mien +to the stranger, who was a counsellor-at-law in the neighbourhood, a +man of engaging aspect and polite address. + +After spending an hour, he asked my friend and me to dine with him at +his house. This I declined at first, as I wished to have no further +communication with my hospitable friend; but at the solicitation of +both I at last consented, determined as I was by two motives; one, +that I was prejudiced in favour of the looks and manner of the +counsellor; and the other, that I stood in need of a comfortable +dinner. And there, indeed, I found everything that I could wish, +abundance without profusion, and elegance without affectation. In the +evening, when my old friend, who had eaten very plentifully at his +neighbour's table, but talked again of lying down with the lamb, made +a motion to me for retiring, our generous host requested I should take +a bed with him, upon which I plainly told my old friend that he might +go home and take care of the horse he had given me, but that I should +never re-enter his doors. He went away with a laugh, leaving me to +add this to the other little things the counsellor already knew of his +plausible neighbour. + +And now, my dear mother, I found sufficient to reconcile me to all +my follies; for here I spent three whole days. The counsellor had +two sweet girls to his daughters, who played enchantingly on the +harpsichord; and yet it was but a melancholy pleasure I felt the first +time I heard them: for that being the first time also that either of +them had touched the instrument since their mother's death, I saw +the tears in silence trickle down their father's cheeks. I every day +endeavoured to go away, but every day was pressed and obliged to stay. +On my going, the counsellor offered me his purse, with a horse and +servant to convey me home; but the latter I declined, and only took a +guinea to bear my necessary expenses on the road. + + + +TO ROBERT BRYANTON + +_In Scotland_ + + +Edinburgh, 26 _Sept._ 1753 + +MY DEAR BOB, + +How many good excuses (and you know I was ever good at an excuse) +might I call up to vindicate my past shameful silence! I might tell +how I wrote a long letter on my first coming hither, and seem vastly +angry at my not receiving an answer; I might allege that business +(with business you know I was always pestered) had never given me +time to finger a pen--but I suppress those and twenty more equally +plausible, and as easily invented, since they might be attended with +a slight inconvenience of being known to be lies. Let me then speak +truth. An hereditary indolence (I have it from the mother's side) has +hitherto prevented my writing to you, and still prevents my writing +at least twenty-five letters more, due to my friends in Ireland. No +turnspit dog gets up into his wheel with more reluctance than I sit +down to write; yet no dog ever loved the roast meat he turns better +than I do him I now address. Yet what shall I say now I'm entered? +Shall I tire you with a description of this unfruitful country; +where I must lead you over their hills all brown with heath, or their +valleys scarce able to feed a rabbit? Man alone seems to be the only +creature who has arrived to the natural size in this poor soil. Every +part of the country presents the same dismal landscape. No grove, nor +brook, lend their music to cheer the stranger, or make the inhabitants +forget their poverty. Yet with all these disadvantages, enough to +call him down to humility, the Scotchman is one of the proudest things +alive. The poor have pride ever ready to relieve them. If mankind +should happen to despise them, they are masters of their own +admiration; and _that_ they can plentifully bestow upon themselves. + +From their pride and poverty, as I take it, results one advantage this +country enjoys; namely, the gentlemen here are much better bred than +amongst us. No such characters here as our fox-hunters; and they have +expressed great surprise when I informed them that some men in Ireland +of one thousand pounds a-year spend their whole lives in running after +a hare, and drinking to be drunk; and truly, if such a being, equipped +in his hunting dress, came among a circle of Scotch gentry, they would +behold him with the same astonishment that a countryman would King +George on horseback. + +The men here have generally high cheek-bones, and are lean and +swarthy, fond of action, dancing in particular. Though now I mention +dancing, let me say something of their balls, which are very frequent +here. When a stranger enters the dancing-hall, he sees one end of +the room taken up with the ladies, who sit dismally in a group by +themselves; on the other end stand their pensive partners that are to +be; but no more intercourse between the sexes than there is between +two countries at war. The ladies indeed may ogle, and the gentlemen +sigh; but an embargo is laid on any closer commerce. At length, to +interrupt hostilities, the lady directress, or intendant, or what you +will, pitches on a gentleman and lady to walk a minuet; which they +perform with a formality that approaches to despondence. After five +or six couple have thus walked the gauntlet, all stand up to country +dances; each gentleman furnished with a partner from the aforesaid +lady directress; so they dance much and say nothing, and thus +concludes our assembly. I told a Scotch gentleman that such profound +silence resembled the ancient procession of the Roman matrons in +honour of Ceres; and the Scotch gentleman told me (and, faith, I +believe he was right) that I was a very great pedant for my pains. + +Now I am come to the ladies; and to show that I love Scotland, and +everything that belongs to so charming a country, I insist on it, and +will give him leave to break my head that denies it--that the Scotch +ladies are ten thousand times handsomer and finer than the Irish. To +be sure, now, I see your sisters Betty and Peggy vastly surprised at +my partiality, but tell them flatly, I don't value them, or their fine +skins, or eyes, or good sense, or--, a potato; for I say it, and will +maintain it, and as a convincing proof (I'm in a very great passion) +of what I assert, the Scotch ladies say it themselves. But to be less +serious; where will you find a language so pretty become a pretty +mouth as the broad Scotch? and the women here speak it in its highest +purity; for instance, teach one of their young ladies to pronounce +'Whoar wull I gong?' with a becoming wideness of mouth, and I'll lay +my life they will wound every hearer. + +We have no such character here as a coquet, but alas! how many envious +prudes! Some days ago I walked into my Lord Kilcoubry's (don't be +surprised, my lord is but a glover), when the Duchess of Hamilton +(that fair who sacrificed her beauty to ambition, and her inward peace +to a title and gilt equipage) passed by in her chariot; her battered +husband, or more properly the guardian of her charms, sat by her side. +Straight envy began, in the shape of no less than three ladies who sat +with me, to find faults in her faultless form.--'For my part,' says +the first, 'I think what I always thought, that the Duchess has too +much red in her complexion.' 'Madam, I'm of your opinion,' says the +second; 'I think her face has a palish cast too much on the delicate +order.' 'And let me tell you,' adds the third lady, whose mouth was +puckered up to the size of an issue, 'that the Duchess has fine lips, +but she wants a mouth.'--At this every lady drew up her lips as if +going to pronounce the letter P. + +But how ill, my Bob, does it become me to ridicule women with whom +I have scarce any correspondence! There are, 'tis certain, handsome +women here; and 'tis as certain there are handsome men to keep them +company. An ugly and a poor man is society for himself; and such +society the world lets me enjoy in great abundance. Fortune has given +you circumstances, and nature a person to look charming in the eyes of +the fair world. Nor do I envy my dear Bob such blessings, while I may +sit down and laugh at the world and at myself, the most ridiculous +object in it. But I begin to grow splenetic, and perhaps the fit may +continue till I receive an answer to this. I know you can't send news +from Ballymahon, but such as it is, send it all; everything you write +will be agreeable and entertaining to me. + +Has George Conway put up a sign yet; or John Finecly left off drinking +drams; or Tom Allen got a new wig? But I leave to your own choice what +to write. While Oliver Goldsmith lives, know you have a friend. + +PS.--Give my sincere respects (not compliments, do you mind) to your +agreeable family, and give my service to my mother, if you see her; +for, as you express it in Ireland, I have a sneaking kindness for her +still. + +Direct to me,--Student in Physic, in Edinburgh. + + + +TO HIS UNCLE CONTARINE + +_In Holland_, + + +Leyden, _April_ or _May, 1754_. + +DEAR SIR, + +I suppose by this time I am accused of either neglect or ingratitude, +and my silence imputed to my usual slowness of writing. But believe +me, Sir, when I say, that till now I had not an opportunity of sitting +down with that ease of mind which writing required. You may see by the +top of the letter that I am at Leyden; but of my journey hither you +must be informed. Some time after the receipt of your last, I embarked +for Bordeaux, on board a Scotch ship called the _St. Andrews_, Capt. +John Wall, master. The ship made a tolerable appearance, and as +another inducement, I was let to know that six agreeable passengers +were to be my company. Well, we were but two days at sea when a storm +drove us into a city of England called Newcastle-upon-Tyne. We all +went ashore to refresh us after the fatigue of our voyage. Seven men +and I were one day on shore, and on the following evening as we were +all very merry, the room door bursts open, enters a sergeant and +twelve grenadiers with their bayonets screwed, and puts us all under +the King's arrest. It seems my company were Scotchmen in the French +service, and had been in Scotland to enlist soldiers for the French +army. I endeavoured all I could to prove my innocence; however, I +remained in prison with the rest a fortnight, and with difficulty got +off even then. Dear Sir, keep this all a secret, or at least say it +was for debt; for if it were once known at the University, I should +hardly get a degree. But hear how Providence interposed in my favour; +the ship was gone on to Bordeaux before I got from prison, and was +wrecked at the mouth of the Garonne, and every one of the crew were +drowned. It happened the last great storm. There was a ship at that +time ready for Holland. I embarked, and in nine days, thank my God, I +arrived safe at Rotterdam; whence I travelled by land to Leyden; and +whence I now write. + +You may expect some account of this country, and though I am not well +qualified for such an undertaking, yet shall I endeavour to satisfy +some part of your expectations. Nothing surprised me more than the +books every day published, descriptive of the manners of this country. +Any young man who takes it into his head to publish his travels, +visits the countries he intends to describe; passes through them with +as much inattention as his _valet de chambre_; and consequently not +having a fund himself to fill a volume, he applies to those who wrote +before him, and gives us the manners of a country, not as he must have +seen them, but such as they might have been fifty years before. The +modern Dutchman is quite a different creature from him of former +times; he in everything imitates a Frenchman but in his easy +disengaged air, which is the result of keeping polite company. +The Dutchman is vastly ceremonious, and is perhaps exactly what a +Frenchman might have been in the reign of Louis XIV. Such are the +better-bred. But the downright Hollander is one of the oddest figures +in nature. Upon a head of lank hair he wears a half-cocked narrow hat +laced with black ribbon: no coat, but seven waistcoats, and nine pairs +of breeches; so that his hips reach almost up to his armpits. This +well-clothed vegetable is now fit to see company, or make love. But +what a pleasing creature is the object of his appetite? Why, she +wears a large fur cap with a deal of Flanders lace: for every pair of +breeches he carries, she puts on two petticoats. + +A Dutch lady burns nothing about her phlegmatic admirer but his +tobacco. You must know, Sir, every woman carries in her hand a +stove with coals in it, which, when she sits, she snugs under her +petticoats; and at this chimney dozing Strephon lights his pipe. I +take it that this continual smoking is what gives the man the ruddy +healthful complexion he generally wears, by draining his superfluous +moisture, while the woman, deprived of this amusement, overflows with +such viscidities as tint the complexion, and give that paleness of +visage which low fenny grounds and moist air conspire to cause. A +Dutch woman and Scotch will well bear an opposition. + +The one is pale and fat, the other lean and ruddy: the one walks as if +she were straddling after a go-cart, and the other takes too masculine +a stride. I shall not endeavour to deprive either country of its share +of beauty; but must say, that of all objects on this earth, an English +farmer's daughter is most charming. Every woman there is a complete +beauty, while the higher class of women want many of the requisites to +make them even tolerable. Their pleasures here are very dull, though +very various. You may smoke, you may doze; you may go to the +Italian comedy, as good an amusement as either of the former. This +entertainment always brings in Harlequin, who is generally a magician, +and in consequence of his diabolical art performs a thousand tricks on +the rest of the persons of the drama, who are all fools. I have seen +the pit in a roar of laughter at this humour, when with his sword he +touches the glass from which another was drinking. 'Twas not his face +they laughed at, for that was masked. They must have seen something +vastly queer in the wooden sword, that neither I, nor you, Sir, were +you there, could see. + +In winter, when their canals are frozen, every house is forsaken, and +all people are on the ice; sleds, drawn by horses, and skating, are at +that time the reigning amusements. They have boats here that slide +on the ice, and are driven by the winds. When they spread all their +sails, they go more than a mile and a half a minute, and their motion +is so rapid the eye can scarcely accompany them. Their ordinary manner +of travelling is very cheap and very convenient: they sail in covered +boats drawn by horses; and in these you are sure to meet people of all +nations. Here the Dutch slumber, the French chatter, and the English +play at cards. Any man who likes company may have them to his taste. +For my part I generally detached myself from all society, and was +wholly taken up in observing the face of the country. Nothing can +equal its beauty; wherever I turn my eye, fine houses, elegant +gardens, statues, grottos, vistas, presented themselves; but when you +enter their towns you are charmed beyond description. No misery is to +be seen here; every one is usefully employed. + +Scotland and this country bear the highest contrast. There hills and +rocks intercept every prospect; here 'tis all a continued plain. There +you might see a well-dressed duchess issuing from a dirty close; and +here a dirty Dutchman inhabiting a palace. The Scotch may be compared +to a tulip planted in dung; but I never see a Dutchman in his own +house, but I think of a magnificent Egyptian temple dedicated to an +ox. Physic is by no means here taught so well as in Edinburgh; and +in all Leyden there are but four British students, owing to all +necessaries being so extremely dear, and the professors so very lazy +(the chemical professor excepted), that we don't much care to come +hither. I am not certain how long my stay here may be; however, I +expect to have the happiness of seeing you at Kilmore, if I can, next +March. + +Direct to me, if I am honoured with a letter from you, to Madam +Diallion's at Leyden. + +Thou best of men, may Heaven guard and preserve you, and those you +love. + + + +TO HIS BROTHER HENRY + +_Family matters_ + + +1759. + +... Imagine to yourself a pale, melancholy visage, with two great +wrinkles between the eyebrows, with an eye disgustingly severe, and a +big wig; and you may have a perfect picture of my present appearance. +On the other hand, I conceive you as perfectly sleek and healthy, +passing many a happy day among your own children, or those who knew +you a child. + +Since I knew what it was to be a man, this is a pleasure I have not +known. I have passed my days among a parcel of cool, designing beings, +and have contracted all their suspicious manner in my own behaviour. I +should actually be as unfit for the society of my friends at home, as +I detest that which I am obliged to partake of here. I can now neither +partake of the pleasure of a revel, nor contribute to raise its +jollity. I can neither laugh nor drink; have contracted a hesitating, +disagreeable manner of speaking, and a visage that looks ill-nature +itself; in short, I have thought myself into a settled melancholy, and +an utter disgust of all that life brings with it. Whence this romantic +turn that all our family are possessed with? Whence this love for +every place and every country but that in which we reside--for every +occupation but our own? this desire of fortune, and yet this eagerness +to dissipate? I perceive, my dear sir, that I am at intervals +for indulging this splenetic manner, and following my own taste, +regardless of yours. + +The reasons you have given me for breeding up your son as a scholar +are judicious and convincing; I should, however, be glad to know for +what particular profession he is designed. If he be assiduous and +divested of strong passions (for passions in youth always lead to +pleasure), he may do very well in your college; for it must be owned +that the industrious poor have good encouragement there, perhaps +better than in any other in Europe. But if he has ambition, strong +passions, and an exquisite sensibility of contempt, do not send him +there, unless you have no other trade for him except your own. It is +impossible to conceive how much may be done by a proper education +at home. A boy, for instance, who understands perfectly well Latin, +French, Arithmetic, and the principles of the Civil Law, and can +write a fine hand, has an education that may qualify him for any +undertaking; and these parts of learning should be better inculcated, +let him be designed for whatever calling he will. + +Above all things let him never touch a romance or novel; these paint +beauty in colours more charming than nature, and describe happiness +that man never tastes. How delusive, how destructive are those +pictures of consummate bliss! They teach the youthful mind to sigh +after beauty and happiness that never existed; to despise the little +good which fortune has mixed in our cup, by expecting more than she +ever gave; and, in general, take the word of a man who has seen +the world and who has studied human nature more by experience than +precept; take my word for it, that books teach us very little of the +world. The greatest merit in a state of poverty would only serve to +make the possessor ridiculous--may distress, but cannot relieve him. +Frugality, and even avarice, in the lower orders of mankind, are +true ambition. These afford the only ladder for the poor to rise to +preferment. Teach then, my dear sir, to your son thrift and economy. +Let his poor wandering uncle's example be placed before his eyes. I +had learned from books to be disinterested and generous, before I +was taught from experience the necessity of being prudent. I had +contracted the habits and notions of a philosopher, while I was +exposing myself to the insidious approaches of cunning: and often by +being, even with my narrow finances, charitable to excess, I forgot +the rules of justice, and placed myself in the very situation of the +wretch who thanked me for my bounty. When I am in the remotest part of +the world, tell him this, and perhaps he may improve from my example. +But I find myself again falling into my gloomy habits of thinking. + +My mother, I am informed, is almost blind; even though I had the +utmost inclination to return home, under such circumstances I could +not, for to behold her in distress without a capacity of relieving her +from it, would add much too to my splenetic habit. Your last letter +was much too short; it should have answered some queries I had made +in my former. Just sit down as I do, and write forward until you have +filled all your paper. It requires no thought, at least from the ease +with which my own sentiments rise when they are addressed to you. For, +believe me, my head has no share in all I write; my heart dictates the +whole. Pray give my love to Bob Bryanton, and entreat him from me not +to drink. My dear sir, give me some account about poor Jenny. Yet her +husband loves her: if so, she cannot be unhappy. + +I know not whether I should tell you--yet why should I conceal those +trifles, or indeed anything from you? There is a book of mine will be +published in a few days: the life of a very extraordinary man; no less +than the great Voltaire. You know already by the title that it is no +more than a catch-penny. However, I spent but four weeks on the whole +performance, for which I received twenty pounds. When published, I +shall take some method of conveying it to you, unless you may think +it dear of the postage, which may amount to four or five shillings. +However, I fear you will not find an equivalent of amusement. + +Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short; you should have given me +your opinion of the design of the heroi-comical poem which I sent you. +You remember I intended to introduce the hero of the poem as lying in +a paltry ale-house. You may take the following specimen of the manner, +which I flatter myself is quite original. The room in which he lies +may be described somewhat this way: + + The window, patched with paper, lent a ray + That feebly show'd the state in which he lay; + The sandy floor that grits beneath the tread, + The humid wall with paltry pictures spread; + The game of goose was there exposed to view, + And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew; + The Seasons, framed with listing, found a place, + And Prussia's monarch show'd his lamp-black face. + The morn was cold: he views with keen desire + A rusty grate, unconscious of a fire; + An unpaid reckoning on the frieze was scored, + And five crack'd teacups dress'd the chimney board. + +And now imagine after his soliloquy, the landlord to make his +appearance in order to dun him for the reckoning: + + Not with that face, so servile and so gay, + That welcomes every stranger that can pay: + With sulky eye he smoked the patient man, + Then pull'd his breeches tight, and thus began, &c. + +All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good remark of +Montaigne's, that the wisest men often have friends with whom they +do not care how much they play the fool. Take my present follies +as instances of regard. Poetry is a much easier and more agreeable +species of composition than prose; and, could a man live by it, it +were not unpleasant employment to be a poet. I am resolved to leave no +space, though I should fill it up only by telling you, what you very +well know already, I mean that I am + +Your most affectionate friend and brother. + + + + +WILLIAM COWPER + +1731-1800 + + + +TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON + +_Escapade of Puss_ + + +21 Aug. 1780. + +The following occurrence ought not to be passed over in silence, in +a place where so few notable ones are to be met with. Last Wednesday +night, while we were at supper, between the hours of eight and nine, I +heard an unusual noise in the back parlour, as if one of the hares was +entangled, and endeavouring to disengage herself. I was just going to +rise from table, when it ceased. In about five minutes, a voice on the +outside of the parlour door inquired if one of my hares had got +away. I immediately rushed into the next room, and found that my +poor favourite Puss had made her escape. She had gnawed in sunder the +strings of a lattice work, with which I thought I had sufficiently +secured the window, and which I preferred to any other sort of blind, +because it admitted plenty of air. From thence I hastened to the +kitchen, where I saw the redoubtable Thomas Freeman, who told me, +that having seen her, just after she had dropped into the street, he +attempted to cover her with his hat, but she screamed out, and leaped +directly over his head. I then desired him to pursue as fast as +possible, and added Richard Coleman to the chase, as being nimbler, +and carrying less weight than Thomas; not expecting to see her again, +but desirous to learn, if possible, what became of her. In something +less than an hour, Richard returned, almost breathless, with the +following account. That soon after he began to run, he left Tom +behind him, and came in sight of a most numerous hunt of men, women, +children, and dogs; that he did his best to keep back the dogs, and +presently outstripped the crowd, so that the race was at last disputed +between himself and Puss;--she ran right through the town, and down +the lane that leads to Dropshort; a little before she came to the +house, he got the start and turned her; she pushed for the town +again, and soon after she entered it, sought shelter in Mr. Wagstaff's +tanyard, adjoining to old Mr. Drake's. Sturges's harvest men were +at supper, and saw her from the opposite side of the way. There she +encountered the tanpits full of water; and while she was struggling +out of one pit, and plunging into another, and almost drowned, one of +the men drew her out by the ears, and secured her. She was then well +washed in a bucket to get the lime out of her coat, and brought home +in a sack at ten o'clock. + +This frolic cost us four shillings, but you may believe we did not +grudge a farthing of it. The poor creature received only a little hurt +in one of her claws, and in one of her ears, and is now almost as well +as ever. + +I do not call this an answer to your letter, but such as it is I send +it, presuming upon that interest which I know you take in my minutest +concerns, which I cannot express better than in the words of Terence a +little varied--_Nihil mei a te alienum putas._ + + + +TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN + +_A laugh that hurts nobody_ + + +_18 Nov. 1782._ + +MY DEAR WILLIAM, + +... I little thought when I was writing the history of John Gilpin, +that he would appear in print--I intended to laugh, and to make two +or three others laugh, of whom you were one. But now all the world +laughs, at least if they have the same relish for a tale ridiculous in +itself, and quaintly told, as we have.--Well--they do not always laugh +so innocently, or at so small an expense--for in a world like this, +abounding with subjects for satire, and with satirical wits to mark +them, a laugh that hurts nobody has at least the grace of novelty to +recommend it. Swift's darling motto was, _Vive la bagatelle_--a good +wish for a philosopher of his complexion, the greater part of whose +wisdom, whencesoever it came, most certainly came not from above. _La +bagatelle_ has no enemy in me, though it has neither so warm a friend, +nor so able a one, as it had in him. If I trifle, and merely trifle, +it is because I am reduced to it by necessity--a melancholy, that +nothing else so effectually disperses, engages me sometimes in the +arduous task of being merry by force. And, strange as it may seem, +the most ludicrous lines I ever wrote have been written in the saddest +mood, and, but for that saddest mood, perhaps had never been written +at all. To say truth, it would be but a shocking vagary, should +the mariners on board a ship buffeted by a terrible storm, employ +themselves in fiddling and dancing; yet sometimes much such a part act +I.... + + + +To THE REV. JOHN NEWTON + +_Village politicians_ + + +_26 Jan. 1783._ + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +It is reported among persons of the best intelligence at Olney--the +barber, the schoolmaster, and the drummer of a corps quartered at +this place,--that the belligerent powers are at last reconciled, the +articles of the treaty adjusted, and that peace is at the door. I saw +this morning, at nine o'clock, a group of about twelve figures very +closely engaged in a conference, as I suppose, upon the same subject. +The scene of consultation was a blacksmith's shed, very comfortably +screened from the wind, and directly opposed to the morning sun. Some +held their hands behind them, some had them folded across their bosom, +and others had thrust them into their breeches pockets. Every man's +posture bespoke a pacific turn of mind; but the distance being too +great for their words to reach me, nothing transpired. I am willing, +however, to hope that the secret will not be a secret long, and that +you and I, equally interested in the event, though not, perhaps, +equally well-informed, shall soon have an opportunity to rejoice in +the completion of it. The powers of Europe have clashed with each +other to a fine purpose; that the Americans, at length declared +independent, may keep themselves so, if they can; and that what the +parties, who have thought proper to dispute upon that point, have +wrested from each other in the course of the conflict, may be, in the +issue of it, restored to the proper owner. Nations may be guilty of +a conduct that would render an individual infamous for ever; and +yet carry their heads high, talk of their glory, and despise their +neighbours. Your opinions and mine, I mean our political ones, are +not exactly of a piece, yet I cannot think otherwise upon this subject +than I have always done. England, more, perhaps, through the fault of +her generals, than her councils, has in some instances acted with a +spirit of cruel animosity she was never chargeable with till now. But +this is the worst that can be said. On the other hand, the Americans, +who, if they had contented themselves with a struggle for lawful +liberty, would have deserved applause, seem to me to have incurred +the guilt of parricide, by renouncing their parent, by making her ruin +their favourite object, and by associating themselves with her worst +enemy, for the accomplishment of their purpose. France, and of course +Spain, have acted a treacherous, a thievish part. They have stolen +America from England, and whether they are able to possess themselves +of that jewel or not hereafter, it was doubtless what they intended. +Holland appears to me in a meaner light than any of them. They +quarrelled with a friend for an enemy's sake. The French led them +by the nose, and the English have threshed them for suffering it. +My views of the contest being, and having been always such, I have +consequently brighter hopes for England than her situation some time +since seemed to justify. She is the only injured party. America may, +perhaps, call her the aggressor; but if she were so, America has +not only repelled the injury, but done a greater. As to the rest, if +perfidy, treachery, avarice, and ambition can prove their cause to +have been a rotten one, those proofs are found upon them. I think, +therefore, that whatever scourge may be prepared for England, on some +future day, her ruin is not yet to be expected. Acknowledge, now, that +I am worthy of a place under the shed I described, and that I should +make no small figure among the _quidnuncs_ of Olney.... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Village justice_ + + +17 _Nov_. 1783. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +... The country around us is much alarmed with apprehensions of fire. +Two have happened since that of Olney. One at Hitchin, where the +damage is said to amount to eleven thousand pounds, and another, at +a place not far from Hitchin, of which I have not learnt the name. +Letters have been dropped at Bedford, threatening to burn the town; +and the inhabitants have been so intimidated, as to have placed a +guard in many parts of it, several nights past. Some madman or some +devil has broke loose, who it is to be hoped will pay dear for these +effusions of his malignity. Since our conflagration here, we have sent +two women and a boy to the justice, for depredation; Sue Riviss, for +stealing a piece of beef, which, in her excuse, she said she intended +to take care of. This lady, whom you will remember, escaped for want +of evidence; not that evidence was indeed wanting, but our men of +Gotham judged it unnecessary to send it. With her went the woman I +mentioned before, who, it seems, has made some sort of profession, +but upon this occasion allowed herself a latitude of conduct rather +inconsistent with it, having filled her apron with wearing apparel, +which she likewise intended to take care of. She would have gone to +the county gaol, had Billy Raban, the baker's son, who prosecuted, +insisted on it, but he good-naturedly, though I think weakly, +interposed in her favour, and begged her off. The young gentleman who +accompanied these fair ones is the junior son of Molly Boswell. He +had stolen some iron-work, the property of Griggs, the butcher. Being +convicted, he was ordered to be whipt, which operation he underwent +at the cart's tail, from the stone-house to the high arch, and back +again. He seemed to show great fortitude, but it was all an imposition +upon the public. The beadle, who performed, had filled his left hand +with red ochre, through which, after every stroke, he drew the lash +of his whip, leaving the appearance of a wound upon the skin, but in +reality not hurting him at all. This being perceived by Mr. Constable +Hinschcomb, who followed the beadle, he applied his cane, without any +such management or precaution, to the shoulders of the too merciful +executioner. The scene immediately became more interesting. The beadle +could by no means be prevailed upon to strike hard, which provoked the +constable to still harder; and this double flogging continued, till a +lass of Silverend, pitying the pitiful beadle thus suffering under the +hands of the pitiless constable, joined the procession, and placing +herself immediately behind the latter, seized him by his capillary +club, and pulling him backwards by the same, slapt his face with a +most Amazonian fury. This concatenation of events has taken up more of +my paper than I intended it should, but I could not forbear to inform +you how the beadle thrashed the thief, the constable the beadle, +and the lady the constable, and how the thief was the only one who +suffered nothing. Mr. Teedon has been here, and is gone again. He came +to thank me for an old pair of breeches. In answer to our inquiries +after his health, he replied that he had a slow fever, which made +him take all possible care not to inflame his blood. I admitted +his prudence, but in his particular instance could not very clearly +discern the need of it. Pump water will not heat him much; and, to +speak a little in his own style, more inebriating fluids are to him, +I fancy, not very attainable. He brought us news, the truth of which, +however, I do not vouch for, that the town of Bedford was actually on +fire yesterday, and the flames not extinguished when the bearer of the +tidings left it. + +Swift observes, when he is giving his reasons why the preacher is +elevated always above his hearers, that let the crowd be as great as +it will below, there is always room enough overhead. If the French +philosophers can carry their art of flying to the perfection they +desire, the observation may be reversed, the crowd will be overhead, +and they will have most room who stay below. I can assure you, +however, upon my own experience, that this way of travelling is +very delightful. I dreamt, a night or two since, that I drove myself +through the upper regions in a balloon and pair, with the greatest +ease and security. Having finished the tour I intended, I made a short +turn, and, with one flourish of my whip, descended; my horses prancing +and curvetting with an infinite share of spirit, but without the least +danger, either to me or my vehicle. The time, we may suppose, is at +hand, and seems to be prognosticated by my dream, when these airy +excursions will be universal, when judges will fly the circuit, +and bishops their visitations; and when the tour of Europe will be +performed with much greater speed, and with equal advantage, by all +who travel merely for the sake of having it to say that they have made +it. + +I beg that you will accept for yourself and yours our unfeigned love, +and remember me affectionately to Mr. Bacon, when you see him. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A candidate's visit_ + + +29 _March_, 1784. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +It being his majesty's pleasure that I should yet have another +opportunity to write before he dissolves the parliament, I avail +myself of it with all possible alacrity. I thank you for your last, +which was not the less welcome for coming, like an extraordinary +gazette, at a time when it was not expected. + +As when the sea is uncommonly agitated, the water finds its way into +creeks and holes of rocks, which in its calmer state it never reaches, +in like manner the effect of these turbulent times is felt even at +Orchard-side, where in general we live as undisturbed by the political +element, as shrimps or cockles that have been accidentally deposited +in some hollow beyond the water mark, by the usual dashing of the +waves. We were sitting yesterday after dinner, the two ladies and +myself, very composedly, and without the least apprehension of any +such intrusion in our snug parlour, one lady knitting, the other +netting, and the gentleman winding worsted, when to our unspeakable +surprise a mob appeared before the window; a smart rap was heard at +the door, the boys halloo'd, and the maid announced Mr. Grenville. +Puss was unfortunately let out of her box, so that the candidate, with +all his good friends at his heels, was refused admittance at the grand +entry, and referred to the back door, as the only possible way of +approach. Candidates are creatures not very susceptible of affronts, +and would rather, I suppose, climb in at a window, than be absolutely +excluded. In a minute, the yard, the kitchen, and the parlour, were +filled. Mr. Grenville, advancing toward me, shook me by the hand with +a degree of cordiality that was extremely seducing. As soon as he and +as many more as could find chairs, were seated, he began to open the +intent of his visit. I told him I had no vote, for which he readily +gave me credit. I assured him I had no influence, which he was not +equally inclined to believe, and the less, no doubt, because Mr. +Ashburner, the draper, addressing himself to me at this moment, +informed me that I had a great deal. Supposing that I could not be +possessed of such a treasure without knowing it, I ventured to confirm +my first assertion, by saying, that if I had any I was utterly at a +loss to imagine where it could be, or wherein it consisted. Thus ended +the conference. Mr. Grenville squeezed me by the hand again, kissed +the ladies, and withdrew. He kissed likewise the maid in the kitchen, +and seemed upon the whole a most loving, kissing, kind-hearted +gentlemen. He has a pair of very good eyes in his head, which not +being sufficient as it should seem for the many nice and difficult +purposes of a senator, he has a third also, which he wore suspended by +a riband from his buttonhole. The boys halloo'd, the dogs barked, +Puss scampered, the hero, with his long train of obsequious followers, +withdrew. We made ourselves very merry with the adventure, and in a +short time settled into our former tranquillity, never probably to be +thus interrupted more. I thought myself, however, happy in being able +to affirm truly that I had not that influence for which he sued; +and which, had I been possessed of it, with my present views of the +dispute between the Crown and the Commons, I must have refused him, +for he is on the side of the former. It is comfortable to be of +no consequence in a world where one cannot exercise any without +disobliging somebody. The town, however, seems to be much at his +service, and if he be equally successful throughout the country, he +will undoubtedly gain his election. Mr. Ashburner perhaps was a little +mortified, because it was evident that I owed the honour of this visit +to his misrepresentation of my importance. But had he thought proper +to assure Mr. Grenville that I had three heads, I should not I suppose +have been bound to produce them.... + + + +To LADY HESKETH + +_An acquaintance reopened_ + + +Olney, 9 _Nov_. 1785. + +MY DEAREST COUSIN, + +Whose last most affectionate letter has run in my head ever since I +received it, and which I now sit down to answer two days sooner than +the post will serve me; I thank you for it, and with a warmth for +which I am sure you will give me credit, though I do not spend +many words in describing it. I do not seek _new_ friends, not being +altogether sure that I should find them, but have unspeakable +pleasure in being still beloved by an old one. I hope that now our +correspondence has suffered its last interruption, and that we shall +go down together to the grave, chatting and chirping as merrily as +such a scene of things as this will permit. + +I am happy that my poems have pleased you. My volume has afforded me +no such pleasure at any time, either while I was writing it, or since +its publication, as I have derived from yours and my uncle's opinion +of it. I make certain allowances for partiality, and for that peculiar +quickness of taste, with which you both relish what you like, and +after all drawbacks upon those accounts duly made, find myself rich in +the measure of your approbation that still remains. But above all, +I honour _John Gilpin_, since it was he who first encouraged you to +write. I made him on purpose to laugh at, and he served his purpose +well; but I am now in debt to him for a more valuable acquisition +than all the laughter in the world amounts to, the recovery of my +intercourse with you, which is to me inestimable. My benevolent and +generous Cousin, when I was once asked if I wanted anything, and given +delicately to understand that the inquirer was ready to supply all +my occasions, I thankfully and civilly, but positively, declined the +favour. I neither suffer, nor have suffered, any such inconveniences +as I had not much rather endure than come under obligations of that +sort to a person comparatively with yourself a stranger to me. But to +you I answer otherwise. I know you thoroughly, and the liberality of +your disposition, and have that consummate confidence in the +sincerity of your wish to serve me, that delivers me from all awkward +constraint, and from all fear of trespassing by acceptance. To you, +therefore, I reply, yes. Whensoever, and whatsoever, and in what +manner-soever you please; and add moreover, that my affection for the +giver is such as will increase to me tenfold the satisfaction that I +shall have in receiving. It is necessary, however, that I should let +you a little into the state of my finances, that you may not suppose +them more narrowly circumscribed than they are. Since Mrs. Unwin and +I have lived at Olney, we have had but one purse, although during the +whole of that time, till lately, her income was nearly double mine. +Her revenues indeed are now in some measure reduced, and do not much +exceed my own; the worst consequence of this is, that we are forced to +deny ourselves some things which hitherto we have been better able to +afford, but they are such things as neither life, nor the well-being +of life, depend upon. My own income has been better than it is, +but when it was best, it would not have enabled me to live as my +connexions demanded that I should, had it not been combined with a +better than itself, at least at this end of the kingdom. Of this I had +full proof during three months that I spent in lodgings at Huntingdon, +in which time by the help of good management, and a clear notion of +economical matters, I contrived to spend the income of a twelvemonth. +Now, my beloved Cousin, you are in possession of the whole case as it +stands. Strain no points to your own inconvenience or hurt, for there +is no need of it, but indulge yourself in communicating (no matter +what) that you can spare without missing it, since by so doing you +will be sure to add to the comforts of my life one of the sweetest +that I can enjoy--a token and proof of your affection. + +I cannot believe but that I should know you, notwithstanding all that +time may have done: there is not a feature of your face, could I meet +it upon the road, by itself, that I should not instantly recollect. +I should say that is my Cousin's nose, or those are her lips and her +chin, and no woman upon earth can claim them but herself. As for me, I +am a very smart youth of my years; I am not indeed grown grey so much +as I am grown bald. No matter: there was more hair in the world than +ever had the honour to belong to me; accordingly having found just +enough to curl a little at my ears, and to intermix with a little +of my own that still hangs behind, I appear, if you see me in an +afternoon, to have a very decent head-dress, not easily distinguished +from my natural growth, which being worn with a small bag, and a black +riband about my neck, continues to me the charms of my youth, even on +the verge of age. Away with the fear of writing too often! + +PS. That the view I give you of myself may be complete, I add the two +following items--That I am in debt to nobody, and that I grow fat. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The kindliness of thanks_ + + +30 _Nov_. 1785. + +My dearest cousin, + +Your kindness reduces me to a necessity (a pleasant one, indeed), of +writing all my letters in the same terms: always thanks, thanks at +the beginning, and thanks at the end. It is however, I say, a pleasant +employment when those thanks are indeed the language of the heart: and +I can truly add, that there is no person on earth whom I thank with +so much affection as yourself. You insisted that I should give you my +genuine opinion of the wine. By the way, it arrived without the least +damage or fracture, and I finished the first bottle of it this very +day. It is excellent, and though the wine which I had been used to +drink was not bad, far preferable to that. The bottles will be in town +on Saturday. I am enamoured of the desk and its contents before I see +them. They will be most entirely welcome. A few years since I made +Mrs. Unwin a present of a snuff-box--a silver one; the purchase was +made in London by a friend; it is of a size and form that make it +more fit for masculine than feminine use. She therefore with pleasure +accepts the box which you have sent--I should say with the greatest +pleasure. And I, discarding the leathern trunk that I have used so +long, shall succeed to the possession of hers. She says, Tell Lady +Hesketh that I truly love and honour her. Now, my Cousin, you may +depend upon it, as a most certain truth, that these words from her +lips are not an empty sound. I never in my life heard her profess a +regard for any one that she felt not. She is not addicted to the use +of such language upon ordinary occasions; but when she speaks it, +speaks from the heart. She has baited me this many a day, even as a +bear is baited, to send for Dr. Kerr. But, as I hinted to you upon +a former occasion, I am as mulish as most men are, and have hitherto +most ungallantly refused; but what is to be done now?--If it were +uncivil not to comply with the solicitations of one lady, to be +unmoved by the solicitations of two would prove me to be a bear +indeed. I will, therefore, summon him to consideration of said +stomach, and its ailments, without delay, and you shall know the +result.--I have read Goldsmith's _Traveller_ and his _Deserted +Village_, and am highly pleased with them both, as well for the manner +in which they are executed, as for their tendency, and the lessons +that they inculcate. + +Mrs. Unwin said to me a few nights since, after supper, 'I have two +fine fowls in feeding, and just fit for use; I wonder whether I should +send them to Lady Hesketh?' I replied, Yes, by all means! and I will +tell you a story that will at once convince you of the propriety of +doing so. My brother was curate on a time to Mr. Fawkes, of Orpington, +in Kent: it was when I lived in the Temple. One morning, as I was +reading by the fireside, I heard a prodigious lumbering at the door. I +opened it, and beheld a most rural figure, with very dirty boots, and +a great coat as dirty. Supposing that my great fame as a barrister had +drawn upon me a client from some remote region, I desired him to walk +in. He did so, and introduced himself to my acquaintance by telling me +that he was the farmer with whom my brother lodged at Orpington. +After this preliminary information he unbuttoned his great coat, and I +observed a quantity of long feathers projected from an inside pocket. +He thrust in his hand, and with great difficulty extricated a great +fat capon. He then proceeded to lighten the other side of him, by +dragging out just such another, and begged my acceptance of both. +I sent them to a tavern, where they were dressed, and I with two or +three friends, whom I invited to the feast, found them incomparably +better than any fowls we had ever tasted from the London co-ops. Now, +said I to Mrs. Unwin, it is likely that the fowls at Olney may be as +good as the fowls at Orpington, therefore send them; for it is not +possible to make so good a use of them in any other way ... Adieu, my +faithful, kind, and consolatory friend! + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Arrival of the desk_ + + +7 _Dec_. 1785. + +My dear cousin, + +At this time last night I was writing to you, and now I am writing to +you again ... My dear, you say not a word about the desk in your last, +which I received this morning. I infer from your silence that you +supposed it either at Olney or on its way thither, and that you +expected nothing so much as that my next would inform you of its safe +arrival;--therefore, where can it possibly be? I am not absolutely in +despair about it, for the reasons that I mentioned last night; but to +say the truth, I stand tottering upon the verge of it. I write, and +have written these many years, upon a book of maps, which I now begin +to find too low and too flat, though till I expected a better desk, +I found no fault with _them_. See and observe how true it is, that +by increasing the number of our conveniences, we multiply our wants +exactly in the same proportion! neither can I at all doubt that if you +were to tell me that all the men in London of any fashion at all, wore +black velvet shoes with white roses, and should also tell me that you +would send me such, I should dance with impatience till they arrived. +Not because I care one farthing of what materials my shoes are made, +but because any shoes of your sending would interest me from head to +foot. + +_Thursday Evening_. + +Oh that this letter had wings, that it might fly to tell you that my +desk, the most elegant, the compactest, the most commodious desk in +the world, and of all the desks that ever were or ever shall be, +the desk that I love the most, is safe arrived. Nay, my dear, it was +actually at Sherrington, when the wagoner's wife (for the man himself +was not at home) croaked out her abominable _No_! yet she examined the +bill of lading, but either did it so carelessly, or as poor Dick Madan +used to say, with such an _ignorant eye_, that my name escaped her. My +precious Cousin, you have bestowed too much upon me. I have nothing +to render you in return, but the affectionate feelings of a heart most +truly sensible of your kindness. How pleasant it is to write upon such +a green bank! I am sorry that I have so nearly reached the end of +my paper. I have now however only room to say that Mrs. Unwin is +delighted with her box, and bids me do more than thank you for +it. What can I do more at this distance but say that she loves you +heartily, and that so do I? The pocket-book is also the completest +that I ever saw, and the watch-chain the most brilliant. + +Adieu for a little while. Now for Homer. + +N.B.--I generally write the day before the post sets out, which is +the thing that puzzles you. I do it that I may secure time for the +purpose, and may not be hurried. On this very day twenty-two years ago +I left London. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Anticipations of a visit_ + + +Olney, 9 _Feb_. 1786. + +MY DEAREST COUSIN, + +I have been impatient to tell you that I am impatient to see you +again. Mrs. Unwin partakes with me in all my feelings upon this +subject, and longs also to see you. I should have told you so by the +last post, but have been so completely occupied by this tormenting +specimen, that it was impossible to do it. I sent the General a letter +on Monday that should distress and alarm him; I sent him another +yesterday, that will, I hope, quiet him again. Johnson has apologized +very civilly for the multitude of his friend's strictures; and his +friend has promised to confine himself in future to a comparison of +me with the original, so that, I doubt not, we shall jog on merrily +together. And now, my dear, let me tell you once more, that your +kindness in promising us a visit has charmed us both! I shall see you +again. I shall hear your voice. We shall take walks together. I will +show you my prospects, the hovel, the alcove, the Ouse and its banks, +everything that I have described. I anticipate the pleasure of those +days not very far distant, and feel a part of it at this moment. Talk +not of an inn! Mention it not for your life! We have never had so many +visitors, but we could easily accommodate them all, though we have +received Unwin, and his wife, and his sister, and his son all at once. +My dear, I will not let you come till the end of May, or beginning +of June, because before that time my greenhouse will not be ready to +receive us, and it is the only pleasant room belonging to us. When +the plants go out, we go in. I line it with mats, and spread the floor +with mats; and there you shall sit with a bed of mignonette at your +side, and a hedge of honeysuckles, roses, and jasmine; and I will make +you a bouquet of myrtle every day. Sooner than the time I mention the +country will not be in complete beauty. + +And I will tell you what you shall find at your first entrance. +Imprimis, as soon as you have entered the vestibule, if you cast a +look on either side of you, you shall see on the right hand a box of +my making. It is the box in which have been lodged all my hares, and +in which lodges Puss at present; but he, poor fellow, is worn out with +age, and promises to die before you can see him. On the right +hand stands a cupboard, the work of the same author; it was once a +dove-cage, but I transformed it. Opposite to you stands a table, +which I also made; but a merciless servant having scrubbed it until it +became paralytic, it serves no purpose now but of ornament; and all +my clean shoes stand under it. On the left hand, at the farther end +of this superb vestibule, you will find the door of the parlour, +into which I will conduct you, and where I will introduce you to Mrs. +Unwin, unless we should meet her before, and where we will be as happy +as the day is long. Order yourself, my Cousin, to the Swan at Newport, +and there you shall find me ready to conduct you to Olney. + +My dear, I have told Homer what you say about casks and urns, and have +asked him whether he is sure that it is a cask in which Jupiter keeps +his wine. He swears that it is a cask, and that it will never be +anything better than a cask to eternity. So if the god is content with +it, we must even wonder at his taste, and be so too. + +Adieu! my dearest, dearest Cousin. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Commissions and thanks_ + + +The Lodge, 24 _Dec_. 1786. + +You must by no means, my dearest Coz, pursue the plan that has +suggested itself to you on the supposed loss of your letter. In +the first place I choose that my Sundays, like the Sundays of other +people, shall be distinguished by something that shall make me look +forward to them with agreeable expectation, and for that reason desire +that they may always bring me a letter from you. In the next place, +if I know when to _expect_ a letter, I know likewise when to _inquire +after_ a letter, if it happens not to come; a circumstance of some +importance, considering how excessively careless they are at the Swan, +where letters are sometimes overlooked, and do not arrive at their +destination, if no inquiry be made, till some days have passed since +their arrival at Olney. It has happened frequently to me to receive +a letter long after all the rest have been delivered, and the Padre +assured me that Mr. Throckmorton has sent notes three several times to +Mrs. Marriot, complaining of this neglect. For these reasons, my dear, +thou must write still on Saturdays, and as often on other days as thou +pleasest. + +The screens came safe, and one of them is at this moment interposed +between me and the fire, much to the comfort of my peepers. The +other of them being fitted up with a screw that was useless, I have +consigned it to proper hands, that it may be made as serviceable +as its brother. They are very neat, and I account them a great +acquisition. Our carpenter assures me that the lameness of the chairs +was not owing to any injury received in their journey, but that the +maker never properly finished them. They were not high when they came, +and in order to reduce them to a level, we have lowered them an inch. +Thou knowest, child, that the short foot could not be lengthened, for +which reason we shortened the long ones. The box containing the plate +and the brooms reached us yesterday, and nothing had suffered the +least damage by the way. Everything is smart, everything is elegant, +and we admire them all. The short candlesticks are short enough. I am +now writing with those upon the table; Mrs. U. is reading opposite, +and they suit us both exactly. With the money that you have in hand, +you may purchase, my dear, at your most convenient time, a tea-urn; +that which we have at present having never been handsome, and being +now old and patched. A parson once, as he walked across the parlour, +pushed it down with his belly, and it never perfectly recovered +itself. We want likewise a tea-waiter, meaning, if you please, such +a one as you may remember to have seen at the Hall, a wooden one. +To which you may add, from the same fund, three or four yards of +yard-wide muslin, wherewithal to make neckcloths for my worship. If +after all these disbursements anything should be left at the bottom +of the purse, we shall be obliged to you if you will expend it in the +purchase of silk pocket-handkerchiefs. There, my precious--I think I +have charged thee with commissions in plenty. + +You neither must nor shall deny us the pleasure of sending to you +such small matters as we do. As to the partridges, you may recollect +possibly, when I remind you of it, that I never eat them; they refuse +to pass my stomach; and Mrs. Unwin rejoiced in receiving them only +because she could pack them away to you--therefore never lay us under +any embargoes of this kind, for I tell you beforehand, that we are +both incorrigible. My beloved Cousin, the first thing that I open my +eyes upon in a morning, is it not the bed in which you have laid me? +Did you not, in our old dismal parlour at Olney, give me the tea on +which I breakfast?--the chocolate that I drank at noon, and the table +at which I dine?--the everything, in short, that I possess in the +shape of convenience, is it not all from you? and is it possible, +think you, that we should either of us overlook an opportunity of +making such a tiny acknowledgement of your kindness? Assure yourself +that never, while my name is Giles Gingerbread, will I dishonour my +glorious ancestry, and my illustrious appellation, by so unworthy a +conduct. I love you at my heart, and so does Mrs. U., and we must say +thank you, and send you a peppercorn when we can. So thank you, my +dear, for the brawn and the chine, and for all the good things that +you announce, and at present I will, for your sake, say no more of +thanksgiving. + + + +TO MRS. BODHAM + +_His mother's portrait_ + + +Weston, 27 _Feb._ 1790. + +MY DEAREST ROSE, + +Whom I thought withered, and fallen from the stalk, but whom I still +find alive: nothing could give me greater pleasure than to know it, +and to hear it from yourself. I loved you dearly when you were a +child, and love you not a jot the less for having ceased to be so. +Every creature that bears any affinity to my mother is dear to me, and +you, the daughter of her brother, are but one remove distant from her: +I love you, therefore, and love you much, both for her sake, and for +your own. The world could not have furnished you with a present so +acceptable to me, as the picture which you have so kindly sent me. I +received it the night before last, and viewed it with a trepidation of +nerves and spirits somewhat akin to what I should have felt, had the +dear original presented herself to my embraces. I kissed it, and hung +it where it is the last object that I see at night, and, of course, +the first on which I open my eyes in the morning. She died when I +completed my sixth year; yet I remember her well, and am an ocular +witness of the great fidelity of the copy. I remember, too, a +multitude of the maternal tendernesses which I received from her, and +which have endeared her memory to me beyond expression. There is in +me, I believe, more of the Donne than of the Cowper; and though I love +all of both names, and have a thousand reasons to love those of my own +name, yet I feel the bond of nature draw me vehemently to your side. +I was thought in the days of my childhood much to resemble my mother; +and in my natural temper, of which at the age of fifty-eight I must +be supposed to be a competent judge, can trace both her, and my late +uncle, your father. Somewhat of his irritability; and a little, +I would hope, both of his and of her--I know not what to call it, +without seeming to praise myself, which is not my intention, but +speaking to _you_, I will even speak out, and say _good nature_. Add +to all this, I deal much in poetry, as did our venerable ancestor, the +Dean of St. Paul's, and I think I shall have proved myself a Donne at +all points. The truth is, that whatever I am, I love you all. + + + + +EDMUND BURKE + +1729-1797 + + + +TO MATTHEW SMITH + +_First impressions of London_ + + +[1750.] + +You'll expect some short account of my journey to this great city. To +tell you the truth, I made very few remarks as I rolled along, for my +mind was occupied with many thoughts, and my eyes often filled with +tears, when I reflected on all the dear friends I left behind; yet +the prospects could not fail to attract the attention of the most +indifferent: country seats sprinkled round on every side, some in the +modern taste, some in the style of old De Coverley Hall, all smiling +on the neat but humble cottage; every village as neat and compact as +a bee-hive, resounding with the busy hum of industry; and inns like +palaces. + +What a contrast to our poor country, where you'll scarce find a +cottage ornamented with a chimney! But what pleased me most of all +was the progress of agriculture, my favourite study, and my favourite +pursuit, if Providence had blessed me with a few paternal acres. + +A description of London and its natives would fill a volume. The +buildings are very fine: it may be called the sink of vice: but its +hospitals and charitable institutions, whose turrets pierce the skies +like so many electrical conductors, avert the wrath of Heaven. The +inhabitants may be divided into two classes, the _undoers_ and the +_undone_; generally so, I say, for I am persuaded there are many men +of honesty and women of virtue in every street. An Englishman is +cold and distant at first; he is very cautious even in forming an +acquaintance; he must know you well before he enters into friendship +with you; but if he does, he is not the first to dissolve that sacred +bond: in short, a real Englishman is one that performs more than he +promises; in company he is rather silent, extremely prudent in his +expressions, even in politics, his favourite topic. The women are not +quite so reserved; they consult their glasses to the best advantage; +and as nature is very liberal in her gifts to their persons, and even +minds, it is not easy for a young man to escape their glances, or to +shut his ears to their softly flowing accents. + +As to the state of learning in this city, you know I have not been +long enough in it to form a proper judgement of that subject. I don't +think, however, there is as much respect paid to a man of letters on +this side of the water as you imagine. I don't find that genius, the +'rath primrose, which forsaken dies', is patronized by any of the +nobility, so that writers of the first talents are left to the +capricious patronage of the public. Notwithstanding discouragement, +literature is cultivated in a high degree. Poetry raises her +enchanting voice to Heaven. History arrests the wings of Time in his +flight to the gulf of oblivion. Philosophy, the queen of arts, and the +daughter of Heaven, is daily extending her intellectual empire. Fancy +sports on airy wing like a meteor on the bosom of a summer cloud; and +even Metaphysics spins her cobwebs, and catches some flies. + +The House of Commons not unfrequently exhibits explosions of eloquence +that rise superior to those of Greece and Rome, even in their +proudest days. Yet, after all, a man will make more by the figures of +arithmetic than the figures of rhetoric, unless he can get into the +trade wind, and then he may sail secure over Pactolean sands. As to +the stage, it is sunk, in my opinion, into the lowest degree; I +mean with regard to the trash that is exhibited on it; but I don't +attribute this to the taste of the audience, for when Shakespeare +warbles his 'native woodnotes', the boxes, pit, and gallery, are +crowded--and the gods are true to every word, if properly winged to +the heart. + +Soon after my arrival in town I visited Westminster Abbey: the +moment I entered I felt a kind of awe pervade my mind which I cannot +describe; the very silence seemed sacred. Henry VII's chapel is a very +fine piece of Gothic architecture, particularly the roof; but I am +told that it is exceeded by a chapel in the University of Cambridge. +Mrs. Nightingale's monument has not been praised beyond its merit. The +attitude and expression of the husband in endeavouring to shield his +wife from the dart of death, is natural and affecting. But I always +thought that the image of death would be much better represented with +an extinguished torch inverted, than with a dart. Some would imagine +that all these monuments were so many monuments of folly;--I don't +think so; what useful lessons of morality and sound philosophy do +they not exhibit! When the high-born beauty surveys her face in the +polished Parian, though dumb the marble, yet it tells her that it was +placed to guard the remains of as fine a form, and as fair a face as +her own. They show besides how anxious we are to extend our loves and +friendships beyond the grave, and to snatch as much as we can from +oblivion--such is our natural love of immortality; but it is here +that letters obtain the noblest triumphs; it is here that the swarthy +daughters of Cadmus may hang their trophies on high; for when all +the pride of the chisel and the pomp of heraldry yield to the silent +touches of time, a single line, a half-worn-out inscription, remain +faithful to their trust. Blest be the man that first introduced these +strangers into our islands, and may they never want protection or +merit! I have not the least doubt that the finest poem in the +English language, I mean Milton's _Il Penseroso_, was composed in the +long-resounding aisle of a mouldering cloister or ivy'd abbey. Yet +after all do you know that I would rather sleep in the southern corner +of a little country churchyard, than in the tomb of the Capulets. I +should like, however, that my dust should mingle with kindred dust. +The good old expression 'family burying-ground' has something pleasing +in it, at least to me. + + + +To JAMES BARRY + +_A friend's infirmities_ + + +Gregories, 16 _Sept_. 1769. + +MY DEAR BARRY, + +I am most exceedingly obliged to your friendship and partiality, +which attributed a silence very blameable on our parts to a favourable +cause: let me add in some measure to its true cause, a great deal of +occupation of various sorts, and some of them disagreeable enough. + +As to any reports concerning your conduct and behaviour, you may be +very sure they could have no kind of influence here; for none of us +are of such a make as to trust to any one's report for the character +of a person whom we ourselves know. Until very lately, I had never +heard anything of your proceedings from others; and when I did, it was +much less than I had known from yourself, that you had been upon ill +terms with the artists and virtuosi in Rome, without much mention of +cause or consequence. If you have improved these unfortunate quarrels +to your advancement in your art, you have turned a very disagreeable +circumstance to a very capital advantage. However you may have +succeeded in this uncommon attempt, permit me to suggest to you, with +that friendly liberty which you have always had the goodness to bear +from me, that you cannot possibly have always the same success, either +with regard to your fortune or your reputation. Depend upon it, that +you will find the same competitions, the same jealousies, the same +arts and cabals, the emulations of interest and of fame, and the same +agitations and passions here that you have experienced in Italy; and +if they have the same effect on your temper, they will have just the +same effects upon your interest; and be your merit what it will, you +will never be employed to paint a picture. It will be the same at +London as at Rome, and the same in Paris as in London, for the world +is pretty nearly alike in all its parts; nay, though it would perhaps +be a little inconvenient to me, I had a thousand times rather you +should fix your residence in Rome than here, as I should not then have +the mortification of seeing with my own eyes a genius of the first +rank lost to the world, himself, and his friends; as I certainly must, +if you do not assume a manner of acting and thinking here, totally +different from what your letters from Rome have described to me. + +That you have had just subjects of indignation always, and of anger +often, I do no ways doubt; who can live in the world without some +trial of his patience? But believe me, my dear Barry, that the arms +with which the ill dispositions of the world are to be combated, and +the qualities by which it is to be reconciled to us, and we reconciled +to it, are moderation, gentleness, a little indulgence to others, and +a great deal of mistrust of ourselves; which are not qualities of a +mean spirit, as some may possibly think them; but virtues of a +great and noble kind, and such as dignify our nature as much as they +contribute to our repose and fortune; for nothing can be so unworthy +of a well-composed soul, as to pass away life in bickerings and +litigations, in snarling and scuffling with every one about us. + +Again and again, my dear Barry, we must be at peace with our species; +if not for their sakes yet very much for our own. Think what my +feelings must be, from my unfeigned regard, and from my wishes +that your talents might be of use, when I see what the inevitable +consequences must be, of your persevering in what has hitherto been +your course, ever since I knew you, and which you will permit me to +trace out for you beforehand. + +You will come here; you will observe what the artists are doing; +and you will sometimes speak a disapprobation in plain words, and +sometimes by a no less expressive silence. By degrees you will produce +some of your own works. They will be variously criticized; you +will defend them; you will abuse those that have attacked you; +expostulations, discussions, letters, possibly challenges, will go +forward; you will shun your brethren, they will shun you. In the +meantime, gentlemen will avoid your friendship, for fear of being +engaged in your quarrels; you will fall into distresses which will +only aggravate your disposition for further quarrels; you will be +obliged for maintenance to do anything for anybody; your very talents +will depart for want of hope and encouragement; and you will go out of +the world fretted, disappointed, and ruined. + +Nothing but my real regard for you could induce me to set these +considerations in this light before you. Remember, we are born +to serve and to adorn our country, and not to contend with our +fellow-citizens, and that in particular your business is to paint and +not to dispute.... + +If you think this a proper time to leave Rome (a matter which I +leave entirely to yourself), I am quite of opinion you ought to go +to Venice. Further, I think it right to see Florence and Bologna; and +that you cannot do better than to take that route to Venice. In short, +do everything that may contribute to your improvement, and I shall +rejoice to see you what Providence intended you, a very great man. +This you were, in your _ideas_, before you quitted this; you best know +how far you have studied, that is, practised the mechanic; despised +nothing till you had tried it; practised dissections with your own +hands, painted from nature as well as from the statues, and portrait +as well as history, and this frequently. If you have done all this, +as I trust you have, you want nothing but a little prudence, to fulfil +all our wishes. This, let me tell you, is no small matter; for it is +impossible for you to find any persons anywhere more truly interested +for you; to these dispositions attribute everything which may be a +little harsh in this letter. We are, thank God, all well, and all most +truly and sincerely yours. I seldom write so long a letter. Take this +as a sort of proof how much I am, dear Barry, Your faithful friend. + + + +To LORD AUCKLAND + +_An old stag at bay_ + + +Beaconsfield, 30 _Oct_. 1795. + +My dear Lord, + +I am perfectly sensible of the very flattering honour you have done +me in turning any part of your attention towards a dejected old man, +buried in the anticipated grave of a feeble old age, forgetting and +forgotten in an obscure and melancholy retreat. + +In this retreat I have nothing relative to this world to do but to +study all the tranquillity that in the state of my mind I am capable +of. To that end I find it but too necessary to call to my aid an +oblivion of most of the circumstances pleasant and unpleasant of my +life; to think as little, and indeed to know as little as I can of +everything that is doing about me; and, above all, to divert my mind +from all presagings and prognostications of what I must (if I let my +speculations loose) consider as of absolute necessity to happen after +my death, and possibly even before it. Your address to the public +which you have been so good as to send to me, obliges me to break in +upon that plan, and to look a little on what is behind, and very much +on what is before me. It creates in my mind a variety of thoughts, and +all of them unpleasant. + +It is true, my Lord, what you say, that through our public life, +we have generally sailed on somewhat different tacks. We have so +undoubtedly, and we should do so still, if I had continued longer +to keep the sea. In that difference you rightly observe that I have +always done justice to your skill and ability as a navigator, and to +your good intentions towards the safety of the cargo and of the ship's +company. I cannot say now that we are on different tacks. There would +be no propriety in the metaphor. I can sail no longer. My vessel +cannot be said to be even in port. She is wholly condemned and broken +up. To have an idea of that vessel you must call to mind what you have +often seen on the Kentish road. Those planks of tough and hardy oak +that used for years to brave the buffets of the Bay of Biscay, are +now turned with their warped grain and empty trunnion holes into very +wretched pales for the enclosure of a wretched farmyard. + +The style of your pamphlet, and the eloquence and power of composition +you display in it, are such as do great honour to your talents; and +in conveying any other sentiments would give me very great pleasure. +Perhaps I do not very perfectly comprehend your purpose, and the drift +of your arguments. If I do not--pray do not attribute my mistake to +want of candour, but to want of sagacity. I confess your address to +the public, together with other accompanying circumstances, has filled +me with a degree of grief and dismay which I cannot find words to +express. If the plan of politics there recommended, pray excuse my +freedom, should be adopted by the King's Councils and by the good +people of this kingdom (as so recommended undoubtedly it will) +nothing can be the consequence but utter and irretrievable ruin to the +Ministry, to the Crown, to the succession, to the importance, to the +independence, to the very existence of this country. + +This is my feeble perhaps, but clear, positive, decided, long and +maturely reflected, and frequently declared opinion, from which all +the events which have lately come to pass, so far from turning me, +have tended to confirm beyond the power of alteration, even by your +eloquence and authority. I find, my dear Lord, that you think some +persons who are not satisfied with the securities of a Jacobin peace, +to be persons of intemperate minds. I may be, and I fear I am with you +in that description: but pray, my Lord, recollect that very few of +the causes which make men intemperate, can operate upon me. Sanguine +hopes, vehement desires, inordinate ambition, implacable animosity, +party attachments, or party interests; all these with me have no +existence. For myself or for a family (alas! I have none), I have +nothing to hope or to fear in this world. I am attached by principle, +inclination, and gratitude to the King, and to the present Ministry. + +Perhaps you may think that my animosity to Opposition is the cause of +my dissent on seeing the politics of Mr. Fox (which while I was in the +world I combated by every instrument which God had put into my hands, +and in every situation in which I had taken part), so completely +adopted in your Lordship's book: but it was with pain I broke with +that great man for ever in that cause--and I assure you, it is not +without pain that I differ with your Lordship on the same principles. +But it is of no concern. I am far below the region of those great and +tempestuous passions. I feel nothing of the intemperance of mind. It +is rather sorrow and dejection than anger. + +Once more my best thanks for your very polite attention, and do me the +favour to believe me with the most perfect sentiments of respect +and regard, my dear Lord, Your Lordship's most obedient and humble +servant. + + + +To MARY LEADBEATER + +_His last letter[1]_ + + +Bath, 23 _May_, 1797. + +My dear Mrs. Leadbeater, + +I feel as I ought to do your constant hereditary kindness to me and +mine. What you have heard of my illness is far from exaggerated. I am, +thank God, alive, and that is all. Hastening to my dissolution, I have +to bless Providence that I do not suffer a great deal of pain.... Mrs. +Burke has a tolerable share of health--in every respect except much +use of her limbs. She remembers your mother's most good-natured +attentions, as I am sure I do with much gratitude. I have ever been +an admirer of your talents and virtues, and shall ever wish +most cordially for everything which can tend to your credit and +satisfaction. I therefore congratulate you very heartily on the +birth of your son; and pray remember me to the representative of your +family, who I hope still keeps up the school of which I have so tender +a remembrance; though after so long an absence, and so many unpleasant +events of every kind that have distracted my thoughts, I hardly dare +ask for any one, not knowing whether they are living or dead, lest I +should be the means of awakening unpleasant recollections. Believe me +to be, with the most respectful and affectionate regards, my dear Mrs. +Leadbeater, + +Your faithful friend, and very humble servant. + +PS. Pray remember me to Mr. Leadbeater. I have been at Bath these four +months to no purpose, and am therefore to be removed to my own +house at Beaconsfield to-morrow, to be nearer to a habitation more +permanent, humbly and fearfully hoping that my better part may find a +better mansion. + +[Footnote 1: Cp. p. 281.] + + + + +EDWARD GIBBON + +1737-1794 + + + +To MRS. PORTEN + +_His daily life_ + + +Lausanne, 27 _Dec._ 1783. + +... In speaking of the happiness which I enjoy, you will agree with me +in giving the preference to a sincere and sensible friend; and though +you cannot discern the full extent of his merit, you will easily +believe that Deyverdun is the man. Perhaps two persons so perfectly +fitted to live together were never formed by nature and education. +We have both read and seen a great variety of objects; the lights +and shades of our different characters are happily blended, and +a friendship of thirty years has taught us to enjoy our mutual +advantages, and to support our unavoidable imperfections. In love and +marriage, some harsh sounds will sometimes interrupt the harmony, +and in the course of time, like our neighbours, we must expect some +disagreeable moments; but confidence and freedom are the two pillars +of our union, and I am much mistaken, if the building be not solid and +comfortable.... + +In this season I rise (not at four in the morning) but a little before +eight; at nine I am called from my study to breakfast, which I always +perform alone, in the English style; and, with the aid of Caplin, +I perceive no difference between Lausanne and Bentinck Street. Our +mornings are usually passed in separate studies; we never approach +each other's door without a previous message, or thrice knocking; and +my apartment is already sacred and formidable to strangers. I dress at +half-past one, and at two (an early hour, to which I am not perfectly +reconciled) we sit down to dinner.... After dinner, and the departure +of our company, one, two, or three friends, we read together some +amusing book, or play at chess, or retire to our rooms, or make +visits, or go to the coffee-house. Between six and seven the +assemblies begin, and I am oppressed only with their number and +variety. Whist, at shillings or half-crowns, is the game I generally +play, and I play three rubbers with pleasure. Between nine and ten we +withdraw to our bread and cheese, and friendly converse, which sends +us to bed at eleven; but these sober hours are too often interrupted +by private or numerous suppers, which I have not the courage to +resist, though I practise a laudable abstinence at the best furnished +tables. Such is the skeleton of my life.... + + + +TO LORD SHEFFIELD + +_A great work_ + + +Lausanne, 20 _Jan._ 1787. + +... As long as I do not inform you of my death, you have good grounds +to believe me alive and well. You have a general, and will soon have a +more particular idea of my system and arrangement here. One day glides +away after another in tranquil uniformity. Every object must have +sides and moments less luminous than others; but, upon the whole, the +life and the place which I have chosen are most happily adapted to my +character and circumstances: and I can now repeat, at the end of three +years, what I soon and sincerely affirmed, that never in a single +instant have I repented of my scheme of retirement to Lausanne.... And +though I truly rejoice in my approaching visit to England, Mr. Pitt, +were he your friend and mine, would not find it an easy task to +prevent my return.... + +I am building a great book, which, besides the three stories already +exposed to the public eye, will have three stories more before we +reach the roof and battlements. You too have built or altered a great +Gothic castle with baronial battlements. Did you finish it within the +time you intended? As that time drew near, did you not find a thousand +nameless and unexpected works that must be performed; each of them +calling for a portion of time and labour? and had you not despised, +nobly despised, the minute diligence of finishing, fitting up, and +furnishing the apartments, you would have discovered a new train of +indispensable business. Such, at least, has been my case. A long while +ago when I contemplated the distant prospect of my work, I gave you +and myself some hopes of landing in England last autumn; but, alas! +when autumn grew near, hills began to rise on hills, Alps on Alps, and +I found my journey far more tedious and toilsome than I had imagined. +When I look back on the length of the undertaking, and the variety +of materials, I cannot accuse, or suffer myself to be accused of +idleness; yet it appeared that unless I doubled my diligence, another +year, and perhaps more, would elapse before I could embark with my +complete manuscript. Under these circumstances I took, and am still +executing, a bold and meritorious resolution. The mornings in winter, +and in a country of early dinners, are very concise; to them, my usual +period of study, I now frequently add the evenings, renounce cards +and society, refuse the most agreeable evenings, or perhaps make my +appearance at a late supper. By this extraordinary industry, which I +never practised before, and to which I hope never to be again reduced, +I see the last part of my _History_ growing apace under my hands; all +my materials are collected and arranged; I can exactly compute, by +the square foot, or the square page, all that remains to be done; and +after concluding text and notes, after a general review of my time +and my ground, I now can decisively ascertain the final period of the +_Decline and Fall_, and can boldly promise that I will dine with you +at Sheffield Place in the month of August, or perhaps of July, in the +present year; within less than a twelvemonth of the term which I had +loosely and originally fixed; and perhaps it would not be easy to +find a work of that size and importance in which the workman has +so tolerably kept his word with himself and the public. But in this +situation, oppressed with this particular object, and stealing every +hour from my amusement, to the fatigue of the pen, and the eyes, you +will conceive, or you might conceive, how little stomach I have for +the epistolary style; and that instead of idle, though friendly, +correspondence, I think it far more agreeable to employ my time in +the effectual measures that may hasten and exhilarate our personal +interview.... + + + + +FRANCES D'ARBLAY + +1752-1840 + + + +TO SUSAN BURNEY + +_An excited Unknown_ + + +Chessington, 5 _July_, 1778. + +MY DEAREST SUSY, + +Don't you think there must be some wager depending among the little +curled imps who hover over us mortals, of how much flummery goes to +turn the head of an authoress? Your last communication very near did +my business; for, meeting Mr. Crisp ere I had composed myself, I 'tipt +him such a touch of the heroics' as he has not seen since the time +when I was so much celebrated for dancing _Nancy Dawson_. I absolutely +longed to treat him with one of Captain Mirvan's frolics, and to fling +his wig out of the window. I restrained myself, however, from the +apprehension that they would imagine I had a universal spite to that +harmless piece of goods, which I have already been known to treat with +no little indignity. He would fain have discovered the reason of my +skittishness; but as I could not tell it him, I was obliged to assure +him it would be lost time to inquire further into my flights, since +'true no meaning puzzles more than wit', and therefore, begging the +favour of him to 'set me down an _ass_', I suddenly retreated. + +My dear, dear Dr. Johnson! what a charming man you are! Mrs. +Cholmondeley, too, I am not merely prepared but determined to admire; +for really she has shown so much penetration and sound sense of late, +that I think she will bring about a union between Wit and Judgement, +though their separation has been so long, and though their meetings +have been so few. + +But, Mrs. Thrale! she--she is the goddess of my idolatry! What an +_éloge_ is hers!--an _éloge_ that not only delights at first, but +proves more and more flattering every time it is considered! + +I often think, when I am counting my laurels, what a pity it would +have been had I popped off in my last illness, without knowing what a +person of consequence I was!--and I sometimes think that, were I now +to have a relapse, I could never go off with so much _éclat_! I am +now at the summit of a high hill; my prospects on one side are bright, +glowing, and invitingly beautiful; but when I turn round, I perceive, +on the other side, sundry caverns, gulfs, pits, and precipices, that, +to look at, make my head giddy and my heart sick. I see about me, +indeed, many hills of far greater height and sublimity; but I have +not the strength to attempt climbing them; if I move, it must +be downwards. I have already, I fear, reached the pinnacle of my +abilities, and therefore to stand still will be my best policy. + +But there is nothing under heaven so difficult to do. Creatures who +are formed for motion _must_ move, however great their inducements to +forbear. The wisest course I could take, would be to bid an eternal +adieu to writing; then would the cry be, 'Tis pity she does not go +on!--she might do something better by and by', &c, &c. _Evelina_, as +a first and a youthful publication, has been received with the utmost +favour and lenity; but would a future attempt be treated with the same +mercy?--no, my dear Susy, quite the contrary; there would not, indeed, +be the same plea to save it; it would no longer be a young lady's +_first_ appearance in public; those who have met with less indulgence +would all peck at any second work; and even those who most encouraged +the first offspring might prove enemies to the second, by receiving +it with expectations which it could not answer: and so, between either +the friends or the foes of the eldest, the second would stand an +equally bad chance, and a million of flaws which were overlooked in +the former would be ridiculed as villainous and intolerable blunders +in the latter. + +But, though my eyes ache as I strain them to look forward, the +temptations before me are almost irresistible; and what you have +transcribed from Mrs. Thrale may, perhaps, prove my destruction. + +So you wish to have some of the sayings of the folks here about _the +book_? I am sure I owe you all the communications I can possibly give +you; but I have nothing new to offer, for the same strain prevails +here as in town; and no one will be so obliging to me as to put in a +little abuse: so that I fear you will be satiated with the sameness +of people's remarks. Yet, what can I do? if they _will_ be so +disagreeable and tiresome as to be all of one mind, how is it to +be helped? I can only advise you to follow my example, which is, to +accommodate my philosophy to their insipidity; and in this I have so +wonderfully succeeded, that I hear their commendations not merely with +patience but even with a degree of pleasure! Such, my dear Susy, is +the effect of true philosophy. + +You desire Kitty Cooke's remarks in particular. I have none to give +you, for none can I get. To the serious part she indeed listens, and +seems to think it may possibly be very fine; but she is quite lost +when the Branghtons and Madame Duval are mentioned;--she hears their +speeches very composedly, and as words of course; but when she hears +them followed by loud bursts of laughter from Hetty, Mr. Crisp, Mrs. +Gast, and Mr. Burney, she stares with the gravest amazement, and looks +so aghast, and so distressed to know where the joke can be, that I +never dare trust myself to look at her for more than an instant. Were +she to speak her thoughts, I am sure she would ask why such common +things, that pass every day, should be printed? And all the derision +with which the party in general treat the Branghtons, I can see she +feels herself, with a plentiful addition of astonishment, for the +_author_! + +By the way, not a human being here has the most remote suspicion of +the fact; I could not be more secure, were I literally unknown to +them. And there is no end to the ridiculous speeches perpetually made +to me, by all of them in turn, though quite by accident. + +'An't you sorry this sweet book is done?' said Mrs. Gast. + +A silly little laugh was the answer. + +'Ah,' said Patty, ''tis the sweetest book!--don't you think so, Miss +Burney?' + +N.B.--Answer as above. + +'Pray, Miss Fan,' says Mrs. Hamilton, 'who wrote it?' + +'Really I never heard.' + +'Cute enough that, Miss Sukey!' + +I desired Hetty to miss the verses; for I can't sit them: and I +have been obliged to hide the first volume ever since, for fear of +a discovery. But I don't know how it will end; for Mrs. Gast has +declared she shall buy it, to take it to Burford with her. + + + +TO SAMUEL CRISP + +_Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson_ + + +Streatham, _March_ 1779. + +The kindness and honours I meet with from this charming family are +greater than I can mention; sweet Mrs. Thrale hardly suffers me to +leave her a moment; and Dr. Johnson is another Daddy Crisp to me, for +he has a partial goodness to your Fannikin, that has made him sink the +comparative shortness of our acquaintance, and treat and think of me +as one who had long laid claim to him. + +If you knew these two you would love them, or I don't know you so well +as I think I do. Dr. Johnson has more fun, and comical humour, and +love of nonsense about him, than almost anybody I ever saw: I mean +when with those he likes; for otherwise, he can be as severe and +as bitter as report relates him. Mrs. Thrale has all that gaiety of +disposition and lightness of heart, which commonly belong to fifteen. +We are, therefore, merry enough, and I am frequently seized with the +same tittering and ridiculous fits as those with which I have so often +amazed and amused poor Kitty Cooke. + +One thing let me not omit of this charming woman, which I believe will +weigh with you in her favour; her political doctrine is so exactly +like yours, that it is never started but I exclaim, 'Dear ma'am, if my +Daddy Crisp was here, I believe between you, you would croak me mad!' +And this sympathy of horrible foresight not a little contributes to +incline her to believe the other parts of speech with which I regale +her concerning you. She wishes very much to know you, and I am sure +you would hit it off comfortably; but I told her what a vile taste you +had for shunning all new acquaintance, and shirking almost all your +old ones. That I may never be among the latter, heartily hopes my dear +daddy's ever affectionate and obliged, F.B. + + + +TO MRS. LOCK + +_A royal commission_ + + +Kew, _April_ 1789. + +MY DEAREST FRIENDS, + +I have her Majesty's commands to inquire--whether you have any of a +certain breed of poultry? + +N.B.--_What_ breed I do not remember. + +And to say she has just received a small group of the same herself. + +N.B.--The quantity I have forgotten. + +And to add, she is assured they are something very rare and scarce, +and extraordinary and curious. + +N.B.--By _whom_ she was assured I have not heard. + +And to subjoin, that you must send word if you have any of the same +sort. + +N.B.--How you are to find that out, I cannot tell. + +And to mention, as a corollary, that, if you have none of them, and +should like to have some, she has a cock and a hen she can spare, and +will appropriate them to Mr. Lock and my dearest Fredy. + +This conclusive stroke so pleased and exhilarated me, that forthwith +I said you would both be enchanted, and so forgot all the preceding +particulars. + +And I said, moreover, that I knew you would rear them, and cheer them, +and fondle them like your children. + +So now--pray write a very _fair answer_ fairly, in fair hand, and to +fair purpose. + +My Susanna is just now come--so all is fair with my dearest Mr. and +Mrs. Lock's F.B. + + + + +GEORGE CRABBE + +1754-1832 + + + +TO MARY LEADBEATER[1] + +_The only survivors_ + + +Trowbridge, 1st of 12th month, 1816. + +MARY LEADBEATER! + +Yes, indeed, I do well remember you! Not Leadbeater then, but a pretty +demure lass, standing a timid auditor while her own verses were read +by a kind friend, but a keen judge. And I have in my memory your +father's person and countenance, and you may be sure that my vanity +retained the compliment which he paid me in the moment when he +permitted his judgement to slip behind his good humour and desire of +giving pleasure. Yes, I remember all who were present, and, of +all, are not you and I the only survivors? It was the day--was it +not?--when I introduced my wife to my friend. And now both are gone! +and your father, and Richard Burke, who was present (yet again I must +ask,--was he not?)--and Mrs. Burke! All departed, and so, by and by, +they will speak of us. But, in the meantime, it was good of you to +write, oh, very, very good! + +But are you not your father's own daughter? Do you not flatter after +his manner? How do you know the mischief that you may do in the mind +of a vain man, who is but too susceptible of praise, even while he is +conscious of so much to be placed against it? I am glad that you like +my verses: it would have mortified me much if you had not, for you can +judge as well as write.... Yours are really very admirable things; and +the morality is as pure as the literary merit is conspicuous. I am not +sure that I have read all that you have given us; but what I have read +has really that rare and almost undefinable quality, genius; that +is to say, it seizes on the mind and commands attention, and on the +heart, and compels its feelings. + +How could you imagine that I could be otherwise than +pleased--delighted rather--with your letter? And let me not omit the +fact that I reply the instant I am at liberty, for I was enrobing +myself for church. You are a child of simplicity, I know, and do not +love robing; but you are a pupil of liberality, and look upon such +things with a large mind, smiling in charity. Well! I was putting on +the great black gown when my servant--(you see I can be pompous, to +write of gowns and servants with such familiarity)--when he brought me +a letter first directed, the words yet legible, to 'George Crabbe, +at Belvoir Castle', and then by Lord Mendip to the 'Reverend' at +Trowbridge; and at Trowbridge I hope again to receive these welcome +evidences of your remembrance, directed in all their simplicity, and +written, I trust, in all sincerity.... + +There was a Suffolk family of Alexanders, one of whom you probably +mean; and as he knew very little of me, I see no reason why he should +not give me a good character ... If it means, as it generally does, +that I paid my debts, and was guilty of no glaring world-defying +immorality--why yes!--I was so far a good character.... + +But your motive for writing to me was your desire of knowing whether +my men and women were really existing creatures, or beings of my own +imagination? Nay, Mary Leadbeater, yours was a better motive; you +thought that you should give pleasure by writing, and--yet you will +think me very vain--you felt some pleasure yourself in renewing the +acquaintance that commenced under such auspices! Am I not right? +My heart tells me that I am, and hopes that you will confirm it. +Be assured that I feel a very cordial esteem for the friend of my +friend,--the virtuous, the worthy character whom I am addressing. + +Yes, I will tell you readily about my creatures, whom I endeavoured to +paint as nearly as I could, and dared; for in some cases I dared not. +This you will readily admit; besides, charity bade me be cautious. +Thus far you are correct; there is not one of whom I had not in my +mind the original; but I was obliged in some cases to take them from +their real situations, in one or two instances to change even the sex, +and in many the circumstances. The nearest to real life was the proud +ostentatious man in _The Borough_, who disguises an ordinary mind by +doing great things; but the others approach to reality at greater or +less distances. Indeed, I do not know that I could paint merely +from my own fancy, and there is no cause why we should. Is there not +diversity sufficient in society? And who can go, even but a little, +into the assemblies of our fellow-wanderers from the way of perfect +rectitude, and not find characters so varied and so pointed that he +need not call upon his imagination? + +Will _you_ not write again? 'Write _to_ thee, or _for_ the public', +wilt thou not ask? _To_ me and _for_ as many as love and can discern +the union of strength and simplicity, purity and good sense. _Our_ +feeling and _our_ hearts is the language you can adopt. Alas, _I_ +cannot with propriety use it--_our_ I too could once say; but I am +alone now; and since my removing into a busy town among the multitude, +the loneliness is but more apparent and more melancholy. But this +is only at certain times; and then I have, though at considerable +distances, six female friends, unknown to each other, but all dear, +very dear, to me. With men I do not much associate; not as deserting, +and much less disliking, the male part of society, but as being unfit +for it; not hardy nor grave, not knowing enough, nor sufficiently +acquainted with the every-day concerns of men. But my beloved +creatures have minds with which I can better assimilate ... Think of +you I must; and of me, I must entreat that you would not be unmindful. + +[Footnote 1: Cp. letter, p. 283.] + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Comparisons_ + + +Trowbridge, 7 _Sept._ 1818. + +A description of your village society would be very gratifying to +me--how the manners differ from those in larger societies, or in +those under different circumstances. I have observed an extraordinary +difference in village manners in England, especially between those +places otherwise nearly alike, when there was and when there was not +a leading man, or a squire's family, or a manufactory near, or a +populous, vitiated town, all these, and many other circumstances have +great influence. _Your_ quiet village, with such influencing minds, +I am disposed to think highly of. No one, perhaps, very rich--none +miserably poor. No girls, from six years to sixteen, sent to a +factory, where men, women, and children of all ages are continually +with them breathing contagion. Not all, however: we are not so +evil--there is a resisting power, and it is strong; but the thing +itself, the congregation of so many minds, and the intercourse it +occasions, will have its powerful and visible effect. But these you +have not; yet, as you mention your schools of both kinds, you must +be more populous and perhaps not so happy as I was giving myself to +believe.... + +The world has not spoiled you, Mary, I do believe: now it has me. I +have been absorbed in its mighty vortex, and gone into the midst of +its greatness, and joined in its festivities and frivolities, and been +intimate with its children. You may like me very well, my kind friend, +while the purifying water, and your more effectual imagination, is +between us; but come you to England, or let me be in Ireland, and +place us where mind becomes acquainted with mind--and then! Ah, Mary +Leadbeater! you would have done with your friendship with me! Child of +simplicity and virtue, how can you let yourself be so deceived? Am +I not a great fat rector, living upon a mighty income, while my poor +curate starves with six hungry children upon the scraps that fall from +the luxurious table? Do I not visit that horrible London, and enter +into its abominable dissipations? Am not I this day going to dine on +venison and drink claret? Have I not been at election dinners, and +joined the Babel-confusion of a town hall? Child of simplicity! am I +fit to be a friend to you, and to the peaceful, mild, pure, and gentle +people about you? One thing is true--I wish I had the qualification. +But I am of the world, Mary.... + +I return all your good wishes, think of you, and with much regard, +more than, indeed, belongs to _a man of the world_! Still, let me +be permitted to address thee.--O my dear Mrs. Leadbeater, this is +so humble that I am afraid it is vain. Well! write soon, then, and +believe me to be + +Most sincerely and affectionately yours. + + + + +WILLIAM BLAKE + +1757-1827 + + + +TO JOHN FLAXMAN + +_Friends 'from eternity'_ + + +Felpham, 21 _Sept._ 1800. + +Sunday morning. + +DEAR SCULPTOR OF ETERNITY, + +We are safe arrived at our cottage, which is more beautiful than I +thought it, and more convenient. It is a perfect model for cottages, +and I think for palaces of magnificence, only enlarging not altering +its proportions, and adding ornaments and not principles. Nothing +can be more grand than its simplicity and usefulness. Simple without +intricacy, it seems to be the spontaneous expression of humanity, +congenial to the wants of man. No other formed house can ever please +me so well, nor shall I ever be persuaded, I believe, that it can be +improved either in beauty or use. + +Mr. Hayley received us with his usual brotherly affection. I have +begun to work. Felpham is a sweet place for study, because it is +more spiritual than London. Heaven opens here on all sides her golden +gates: her windows are not obstructed by vapours; voices of celestial +inhabitants are more distinctly heard, and their forms more distinctly +seen; and my cottage is also a shadow of their houses. My wife and +sister are both well, courting Neptune for an embrace. + +Our journey was very pleasant; and though we had a great deal of +luggage, no grumbling. All was cheerfulness and good humour on the +road, and yet we could not arrive at our cottage before half-past +eleven at night, owing to the necessary shifting of our luggage from +one chaise to another; for we had seven different chaises and as many +different drivers. We set out between six and seven in the morning of +Thursday, with sixteen heavy boxes and portfolios full of prints. + +And now begins a new life, because another covering of earth is +shaken off. I am more famed in heaven for my works than I could well +conceive. In my brain are studies and chambers filled with books and +pictures of old, which I wrote and painted in ages of eternity +before my mortal life; and those works are the delight and study of +archangels. Why then should I be anxious about the riches or fame of +mortality? The Lord our Father will do for us and with us according to +His divine will, for our good. + +You, O dear Flaxman! are a sublime archangel,--my friend and companion +from eternity. In the divine bosom is our dwelling-place. I look back +into the regions of reminiscence, and behold our ancient days before +this earth appeared in its vegetated mortality to my mortal vegetated +eyes. I see our houses of eternity which can never be separated, +though our mortal vehicles should stand at the remotest corners of +heaven from each other. + +Farewell, my best friend! Remember me and my wife in love and +friendship to our dear Mrs. Flaxman, whom we ardently desire to +entertain beneath our thatched roof of rusted gold. + + + +TO THOMAS BUTTS + +_Trouble in the path_ + + +Felpham, 10 _Jan._ 1802. + +Dear Sir, + +Your very kind and affectionate letter, and the many kind things you +have said in it, called upon me for an immediate answer. But it found +my wife and myself so ill, and my wife so very ill, that till now I +have not been able to do this duty. The ague and rheumatism have been +almost her constant enemies, which she has combated in vain almost +ever since we have been here, and her sickness is always my sorrow, +of course. But what you tell me about your sight afflicted me not a +little, and that about your health, in another part of your letter, +makes me entreat you to take due care of both. It is a part of our +duty to God and man to take due care of His gifts; and though we ought +not to think _more_ highly of ourselves, yet we ought to think _as_ +highly of ourselves as immortals ought to think. + +When I came down here, I was more sanguine than I am at present; +but it was because I was ignorant of many things which have since +occurred, and chiefly the unhealthiness of the place. Yet I do not +repent of coming on a thousand accounts; and Mr. Hayley, I doubt not, +will do ultimately all that both he and I wish--that is, to lift me +out of difficulty. But this is no easy matter to a man who, having +spiritual enemies of such formidable magnitude, cannot expect to want +natural hidden ones. + +Your approbation of my pictures is a multitude to me, and I doubt not +that all your kind wishes in my behalf shall in due time be fulfilled. +Your kind offer of pecuniary assistance I can only thank you for at +present, because I have enough to serve my present purpose here. Our +expenses are small, and our income, from our incessant labour, fully +adequate to these at present. I am now engaged in engraving six small +plates for a new edition of Mr. Hayley's _Triumphs of Temper_, from +drawings by Maria Flaxman, sister to my friend the sculptor. And it +seems that other things will follow in course, if I do but copy these +well. But patience! If great things do not turn out, it is because +such things depend on the spiritual and not on the natural world; and +if it was fit for me, I doubt not that I should be employed in greater +things; and when it is proper, my talents shall be properly exercised +in public, as I hope they are now in private. For till then I leave no +stone unturned, and no path unexplored that leads to improvement in +my beloved arts. One thing of real consequence I have accomplished by +coming into the country, which is to me consolation enough: namely, +I have re-collected all my scattered thoughts on art, and resumed +my primitive and original ways of execution in both painting and +engraving, which in the confusion of London I had very much lost and +obliterated from my mind. But whatever becomes of my labours, I would +rather that they should be preserved in your greenhouse (not, as you +mistakenly call it, dunghill) than in the cold gallery of fashion. The +sun may yet shine, and then they will be brought into open air. + +But you have so generously and openly desired that I will divide my +griefs with you that I cannot hide what it has now become my duty to +explain. My unhappiness has arisen from a source which, if explored +too narrowly, might hurt my pecuniary circumstances; as my dependence +is on engraving at present, and particularly on the engravings I have +in hand for Mr. Hayley, and I find on all hands great objections to +my doing anything but the mere drudgery of business, and intimations +that, if I do not confine myself to this, I shall not live. This has +always pursued me. You will understand by this the source of all my +uneasiness. This from Johnson and Fuseli brought me down here, and +this from Mr. Hayley will bring me back again. For that I cannot live +without doing my duty to lay up treasures in heaven is certain and +determined, and to this I have long made up my mind. And why this +should be made an objection to me, while drunkenness, lewdness, +gluttony, and even idleness itself, does not hurt other men, let Satan +himself explain. The thing I have most at heart--more than life, or +all that seems to make life comfortable without--is the interest of +true religion and science. And whenever anything appears to affect +that interest (especially if I myself omit any duty to my station as +a soldier of Christ), it gives me the greatest of torments. I am not +ashamed, afraid, or averse to tell you what ought to be told--that I +am under the direction of messengers from heaven, daily and nightly. +But the nature of such things is not, as some suppose, without trouble +or care. Temptations are on the right hand and on the left. Behind, +the sea of time and space roars and follows swiftly. He who keeps not +right onwards is lost; and if our footsteps slide in clay, how can we +do otherwise than fear and tremble? But I should not have troubled you +with this account of my spiritual state, unless it had been necessary +in explaining the actual cause of my uneasiness, into which you are so +kind as to inquire: for I never obtrude such things on others unless +questioned, and then I never disguise the truth. But if we fear to do +the dictates of our angels, and tremble at the tasks set before us; +if we refuse to do spiritual acts because of natural fears or natural +desires; who can describe the dismal torments of such a state!--I +too well remember the threats I heard!--'If you, who are organized +by Divine Providence for spiritual communion, refuse, and bury +your talent in the earth, even though you should want natural +bread,--sorrow and desperation pursue you through life, and after +death shame and confusion of face to eternity. Every one in eternity +will leave you, aghast at the man who was crowned with glory and +honour by his brethren, and betrayed their cause to their enemies. You +will be called the base Judas who betrayed his friend!'--Such words +would make any stout man tremble, and how then could I be at ease? But +I am now no longer in that state, and now go on again with my task, +fearless though my path is difficult. I have no fear of stumbling +while I keep it. + +My wife desires her kindest love to Mrs. Butts, and I have permitted +her to send it to you also. We often wish that we could unite again +in society, and hope that the time is not distant when we shall do so, +being determined not to remain another winter here, but to return to +London. + + I hear a Voice you cannot hear, that says + I must not stay, + I see a Hand you cannot see, that beckons + me away. + +Naked we came here--naked of natural things--and naked we shall +return: but while clothed with the Divine mercy, we are richly clothed +in spiritual, and suffer all the rest gladly. Pray, give my love to +Mrs. Butts and your family. + +PS. Your obliging proposal of exhibiting my two pictures likewise +calls for my thanks; I will finish the others, and then we shall judge +of the matter with certainty. + + + +To THE SAME + +_The wonderful poem_ + + +(Felpham), 25 _April_, 1803. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +I write in haste, having received a pressing letter from my Brother. +I intended to have sent the Picture of the _Riposo_, which is nearly +finished much to my satisfaction, but not quite. You shall have it +soon. I now send the four numbers for Mr. Birch with best respects to +him. The reason the _Ballads_ have been suspended is the pressure of +other business, but they will go on again soon. + +Accept of my thanks for your kind and heartening letter. You have +faith in the endeavours of me, your weak brother and fellow-disciple; +how great must be your faith in our Divine Master! You are to me +a lesson of humility, while you exalt me by such distinguishing +commendations. I know that you see certain merits in me, which, by +God's grace, shall be made fully apparent and perfect in Eternity. +In the meantime I must not bury the talents in the earth, but do my +endeavour to live to the glory of our Lord and Saviour; and I am +also grateful to the kind hand that endeavours to lift me out of +despondency, even if it lifts me too high. + +And now, my dear Sir, congratulate me on my return to London with the +full approbation of Mr. Hayley and with promise. But alas! now I may +say to you--what perhaps I should not dare to say to anyone else--that +I can alone carry on my visionary studies in London unannoyed, and +that I may converse with my friends in Eternity, see visions, dream +dreams, and prophesy and speak parables, unobserved, and at liberty +from the doubts of other mortals: perhaps doubts proceeding from +kindness; but doubts are always pernicious, especially when we doubt +our friends. Christ is very decided on this point: 'He who is not with +me is against me.' There is no medium or middle state; and if a man is +the enemy of my spiritual life while he pretends to be the friend of +my corporeal, he is a real enemy; but the man may be the friend of my +spiritual life while he seems the enemy of my corporeal, though not +vice versa. + +What is very pleasant, every one who hears of my going to London again +applauds it as the only course for the interest of all concerned in +my works; observing that I ought not to be away from the opportunities +London affords of seeing fine pictures, and the various improvements +in works of art going on in London. + +But none can know the spiritual acts of my three years' slumber on the +banks of Ocean, unless he has seen them in the spirit, or unless he +should read my long Poem descriptive of those acts; for I have in +these years composed an immense number of verses on one grand theme, +similar to Homer's _Iliad_ or Milton's _Paradise Lost_; the persons +and machinery entirely new to the inhabitants of earth (some of the +persons excepted). I have written this Poem from immediate dictation, +twelve or sometimes twenty or thirty lines at a time, without +premeditation, and even against my will. The time it has taken in +writing was thus rendered nonexistent, and an immense Poem exists +which seems to be the labour of a long life, all produced without +labour or study. I mention this to show you what I think the grand +reason of my being brought down here. + +I have a thousand and ten thousand things to say to you. My heart +is full of futurity. I perceive that the sore travail which has been +given me these three years leads to glory and honour. I rejoice and +tremble: 'I am fearfully and wonderfully made.' I had been reading the +CXXXIX Psalm a little before your letter arrived. I take your advice. +I see the face of my Heavenly Father; He lays His hand upon my head, +and gives a blessing to all my work. Why should I be troubled? Why +should my heart and flesh cry out? I will go on in the strength of the +Lord; through Hell will I sing forth His praises: that the dragons of +the deep may praise Him, and that those who dwell in darkness, and in +the sea coasts may be gathered into His Kingdom. Excuse my perhaps too +great enthusiasm. Please to accept of and give our loves to Mrs. Butts +and your amiable family, and believe me ever yours affectionately. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The poet and William Hayley_ + + +Felpham, 6 _July_, 1803. + +... We look forward every day with pleasure toward our meeting again +in London with those whom we have learned to value by absence no less +perhaps than we did by presence; for recollection often surpasses +everything. Indeed, the prospect of returning to our friends is +supremely delightful. Then, I am determined that Mrs. Butts shall have +a good likeness of you, if I have hands and eyes left; for I am become +a likeness-taker, and succeed admirably well. But this is not to be +achieved without the original sitting before you for every touch, all +likenesses from memory being necessarily very, very defective; but +Nature and Fancy are two things, and can never be joined, neither +ought any one to attempt it, for it is idolatry, and destroys the +Soul. + +I ought to tell you that Mr. H. is quite agreeable to our return, +and that there is all the appearance in the world of our being fully +employed in engraving for his projected works, particularly Cowper's +_Milton_--a work now on foot by subscription, and I understand that +the subscription goes on briskly. This work is to be a very elegant +one, and to consist of all Milton's Poems with Cowper's Notes, and +translations by Cowper from Milton's Latin and Italian poems. These +works will be ornamented with engravings from designs by Romney, +Flaxman, and your humble servant, and to be engraved also by +the last-mentioned. The profits of the work are intended to be +appropriated to erect a monument to the memory of Cowper in St. Paul's +or Westminster Abbey. Such is the project; and Mr. Addington and Mr. +Pitt are both among the subscribers, which are already numerous and of +the first rank. The price of the work is six guineas. Thus I hope that +all our three years' trouble ends in good-luck at last, and shall be +forgot by my affections, and only remembered by my understanding, to +be a memento in time to come, and to speak to future generations by a +sublime allegory, which is now perfectly completed into a grand Poem. +I may praise it, since I dare not pretend to be any other than the +secretary; the authors are in Eternity. I consider it as the grandest +Poem that this world contains. Allegory addressed to the +intellectual powers, while it is altogether hidden from the corporeal +understanding, is my definition of the most sublime Poetry. It is +also somewhat in the same manner defined by Plato. This Poem shall, +by Divine assistance, be progressively printed and ornamented with +prints, and given to the public. But of this work I take care to say +little to Mr. H., since he is as much averse to my Poetry as he is to +a chapter in the Bible. He knows that I have writ it, for I have shown +it to him, and he has read part by his own desire, and has looked with +sufficient contempt to enhance my opinion of it. But I do not wish to +imitate by seeming too obstinate in poetic pursuits. But if all the +world should set their faces against this, I have orders to set my +face like a flint (Ezek. iii. 8) against their faces, and my forehead +against their foreheads. + +As to Mr. H., I feel myself at liberty to say as follows upon this +ticklish subject. I regard fashion in Poetry as little as I do in +Painting: so, if both Poets and Painters should alternately dislike +(but I know the majority of them will not), I am not to regard it +at all. But Mr. H. approves of my Designs as little as he does of my +Poems, and I have been forced to insist on his leaving me, in both, +to my own self-will; for I am determined to be no longer pestered with +his genteel ignorance and polite disapprobation. I know myself both +Poet and Painter, and it is not his affected contempt that can move to +anything but a more assiduous pursuit of both arts. Indeed, by my late +firmness, I have brought down his affected loftiness, and he begins +to think I have some genius: as if genius and assurance were the same +thing! But his imbecile attempts to depress me only deserve laughter. +I say thus much to you, knowing that you will not make a bad use of +it. But it is a fact too true that, if I had only depended on mortal +things, both myself and my wife must have been lost. I shall leave +every one in this country astonished at my patience and forbearance +of injuries upon injuries; and I do assure you that, if I could have +returned to London a month after my arrival here, I should have done +so. But I was commanded by my spiritual friends to bear all and be +silent, and to go through all without murmuring, and, in fine, to hope +till my three years should be almost accomplished; at which time I was +set at liberty to remonstrate against former conduct, and to demand +justice and truth; which I have done in so effectual a manner that my +antagonist is silenced completely, and I have compelled what should +have been of freedom--my just right as an artist and as a man. And +if any attempt should be made to refuse me this, I am inflexible, and +will relinquish any engagement of designing at all, unless altogether +left to my own judgement, as you, my dear friend, have always left me; +for which I shall never cease to honour and respect you. + +When we meet, I will perfectly describe to you my conduct and the +conduct of others towards me, and you will see that I have laboured +hard indeed, and have been borne on angels' wings. Till we meet I beg +of God our Saviour to be with you and me, and yours and mine. Pray +give my and my wife's love to Mrs. Butts and family, and believe me to +remain + +Yours in truth and sincerity. + + + + +MARY LEADBEATER + +1758-1826 + + + +TO EDMUND BURKE + +_Reply to his last letter_ + + +28 _May_, 1797. + +With a heart melted to overflowing, I cannot restrain the attempt to +express my grateful sensations on receiving the greatest, and, alas! +I fear, the last proof of that unvarying friendship with which our +ever-loved, our ever-honoured friend has favoured us! I may transgress +the bounds by intruding at this awful period; but I cannot help it. My +affection and my sorrow will be excused, I believe, for thou hast ever +looked kindly and partially upon me, and so has thy beloved wife, with +whose feelings I sympathize, could that avail. This day's post brought +me thy letter of the 23rd instant, dictated and signed by thee. Such +attention, at such a time, and in such a situation! It was like Edmund +Burke! It was like few others, but it is not bestowed upon hearts who +do not feel it.--I look back on that friendship formed in the precious +days of innocent childhood, between thee and my lamented parent.--I +trace its progress, which is so imprinted on my mind, that I almost +seem to myself to have been a witness to it.--I see it continue +unabated, notwithstanding the different sphere of life in which you +moved, to the period of it;--and may we not hope that there is an +union of souls beyond the grave? The composure and fortitude displayed +in thy letter, is the greatest consolation we could receive with the +tidings it conveyed of thy health. Since thou dost not allow us to +hope for its restoration, we will hope better things than is in the +power of this world to bestow.--My mother appears to decline, and +looks to the end of her race as near. All the other branches of +this family, I believe, are well in health. My brother continues +the school, which, I believe, was never in higher estimation than at +present. My husband regrets very much that he never shared with us +the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with thee. We all unite in +cordial, unaffected love to thee. I thought I would say how we were, +believing thou would be pleased to hear of our welfare, though how +long that may be continued, seems doubtful.--The general fermentation +throughout this nation, forebodes some sudden and dreadful eruption, +and, however obscure or retired our situations may be, there is little +prospect of escaping the calamity. This may cause us to admire, nay, +adore the mercy, as well as wisdom of Him, who gives and takes life, +in removing those so dear to us from the evil to come. My mother +desires thou may accept as much love as she is capable of sending +thee; her heart is full of it towards thee; and she bids me say, she +hopes thou hast lived such a life, that thy end will be crowned with +peace! So be it, with my whole heart! Thy affectionate and obliged +friend. + +Our best wishes, and dear love to thy wife. + +Abraham Shackleton has the melancholy satisfaction of perusing dear +Edmund Burke's account of his poor state of health. He hopes (trusts) +that a quiet resting place is prepared for him. The memory of E. +Burke's philanthropic virtues will out-live the period when his +shining political talents will cease to act. New fashions of political +sentiment will exist; but philanthropy,--_immortale manet!_ + + + +TO GEORGE CRABBE + +_She writes to remind him_ + + +Ballitore, 7th of Eleventh-month, 1816. + +I believe it will surprise George Crabbe to receive a letter from an +entire stranger, whom most probably he does not remember to have ever +seen or heard of, but who cannot forget having met him at the house of +Edmund Burke, Charles Street, James's Square, in the year 1784. I +was brought thither by my father, Richard Shackleton, the friend +from their childhood of Edmund Burke. My dear father told thee that +Goldsmith's would now be the _deserted village_; perhaps thou dost not +remember this compliment, but I remember the ingenuous modesty which +disclaimed it. He admired '_The Village', 'The Library_,' and '_The +Newspaper_' exceedingly, and the delight with which he read them to +his family could not but be acceptable to the author, had he known +the sound judgement and the exquisite taste which that excellent +man possessed. But he saw no more of the productions of the Muse he +admired; whose originality was not the least charm. He is dead--the +friend whom he loved and honoured, and to whose character thou dost so +much justice in the preface to '_The Parish_ _Register_', is also gone +to the house appointed for all living. A splendid constellation of +poets arose in the literary horizon; I looked around for Crabbe. Why +does not he, who shines as brightly as any of these, add his lustre? +I had not long thought thus when, in an Edinburgh Review, I met +with reflections similar to my own, which introduced '_The Parish +Register_'. Oh, it was like the voice of a long-lost friend, and glad +was I to hear that voice again in '_The Borough_'!--still more in +'_The Tales_,' which appear to me excelling all that preceded them! +Every work is so much in unison with our own feelings, that a wish for +information concerning them and their author is strongly excited. + +One of our friends, Dykes Alexander, who was in Ballitore in 1810, I +think, said he was personally acquainted with thee, and spoke highly +of thy character. I regretted I had not an opportunity of conversing +with him on this subject, as perhaps he would have been able to decide +arguments which have arisen; namely, whether we owe to truth or to +fiction that 'ever new delight' which thy poetry affords us. The +characters, however singular some of them may be, are never unnatural, +and thy sentiments so true to domestic and social feelings, as well as +to those of a higher nature, have the convincing power of reality +over the mind, and _I_ maintain that all thy pictures _are drawn from +life_. To inquire whether this be the case is the excuse which I make +to myself for writing this letter. I wish the excuse may be accepted +by thee, for I greatly fear I have taken an unwarrantable liberty in +making the inquiry. Though advanced in life, yet from an education of +peculiar simplicity, and from never having been long absent from my +retired native village, I am too little acquainted with decorum. If I +have now transgressed the rules it prescribes, I appeal to the candour +and liberality of thy mind to forgive a fault caused by a strong +enthusiasm. + +PS. Ballitore is the village in which Edmund Burke was educated by +Abraham Shackleton, whose pupil he became in 1741, and from whose +school he entered the college of Dublin in 1744. The school is still +flourishing. + + + + +ROBERT BURNS + +1759-1796 + + + +TO MISS CHALMERS + +_Marriage with Jean_ + + +Ellisland, near Dumfries, 16 _Sept_. 1788. + +Where are you? and how are you? and is Lady M'Kenzie recovering her +health? for I have had but one solitary letter from you. I will not +think you have forgot me, Madam; and for my part-- + + When thee, Jerusalem, I forget, + Skill part from my right hand! + +'My heart is not of that rock, nor my soul careless as that sea.' I +do not make my progress among mankind as a bowl does among its +fellows--rolling through the crowd without bearing away any mark or +impression, except where they hit in hostile collision. + +I am here, driven in with my harvest-folks by bad weather; and as you +and your sister once did me the honour of interesting yourselves +much _à l'égard de moi_, I sit down to beg the continuation of your +goodness.--I can truly say that, all the exterior of life apart, +I never saw two, whose esteem flattered the nobler feelings of my +soul--I will not say, more, but so much as Lady M'Kenzie and Miss +Chalmers. When I think of you--hearts the best, minds the noblest, of +human kind--unfortunate, even in the shades of life--when I think I +have met with you, and have lived more of real life with you in +eight days, than I can do with almost any body I meet with in eight +years--when I think on the improbability of meeting you in this world +again--I could sit down and cry like a child!--If ever you honoured me +with a place in your esteem, I trust I can now plead more desert.--I +am secure against that crushing grip of iron poverty, which, alas! +is less or more fatal to the native worth and purity of, I fear, the +noblest souls; and a late, important step in my life has kindly taken +me out of the way of those ungrateful iniquities, which, however +overlooked in fashionable license, or varnished in fashionable phrase, +are indeed but lighter and deeper shades of VILLAINY. + +Shortly after my last return to Ayrshire, I married 'my Jean'. This +was not in consequence of the attachment of romance perhaps; but I +had a long and much-loved fellow creature's happiness or misery in my +determination, and I durst not trifle with so important a deposit. Nor +have I any cause to repent it. If I have not got polite tattle, modish +manners, and fashionable dress, I am not sickened and disgusted with +the multiform curse of boarding-school affectation; and I have got the +handsomest figure, the sweetest temper, the soundest constitution, and +the kindest heart in the county. Mrs. Burns believes, as firmly as her +creed, that I am _le plus bel esprit, et le plus honnête homme_ in +the universe; although she scarcely ever in her life, except the +Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, and the Psalms of David in +metre, spent five minutes together on either prose or verse. + +I must except also from this last, a certain late publication of Scots +poems, which she has perused very devoutly; and all the ballads in +the country, as she has (O the partial lover! you will cry) the finest +'wood-note wild' I ever heard.--I am the more particular in this +lady's character, as I know she will henceforth have the honour of a +share in your best wishes. She is still at Mauchline, as I am building +my house; for this hovel that I shelter in, while occasionally here, +is pervious to every blast that blows, and every shower that falls; +and I am only preserved from being chilled to death, by being +suffocated with smoke. I do not find my farm that pennyworth I was +taught to expect, but I believe, in time, it may be a saving bargain. +You will be pleased to hear that I have laid aside idle _éclat_, and +bind every day after my reapers. + +To save me from that horrid situation of at any time going down, in +a losing bargain of a farm, to misery, I have taken my excise +instructions, and have my commission in my pocket for any emergency +of fortune. If I could set _all_ before your view, whatever disrespect +you in common with the world, have for this business, I know you would +approve of my idea. + +I will make no apology, dear Madam, for this egotistic detail: I know +you and your sister will be interested in every circumstance of it. +What signify the silly, idle gewgaws of wealth, or the ideal trumpery +of greatness! When fellow partakers of the same nature fear the same +God, have the same benevolence of heart, the same nobleness of soul, +the same detestation at every thing dishonest, and the same scorn at +every thing unworthy--if they are not in the dependance of absolute +beggary, in the name of common sense are they not EQUALS? And if the +bias, the instinctive bias of their souls run the same way, why may +they not be FRIENDS?... + + + +TO MR. ROBERT AINSLIE + +_A gauger_ + + +Ellisland, 1 _Nov_. 1789. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +I had written you long ere now, could I have guessed where to find +you, for I am sure you have more good sense than to waste the precious +days of vacation time in the dirt of business and Edinburgh. Wherever +you are, God bless you, and lead you not into temptation, but deliver +you from evil! + +I do not know if I have informed you that I am now appointed to an +excise division, in the middle of which my house and farm lie. In this +I was extremely lucky. Without ever having been an expectant, as they +call their journeymen excisemen, I was directly planted down to all +intents and purposes an officer of excise; there to flourish and bring +forth fruits--worthy of repentance. + +I know not how the word exciseman, or still more opprobrious, gauger, +will sound in your ears. I too have seen the day when my auditory +nerves would have felt very delicately on this subject; but a wife +and children are things which have a wonderful power in blunting these +kind of sensations. Fifty pounds a year for life, and a provision for +widows and orphans, you will allow is no bad settlement for a _poet_. +For the ignominy of the profession, I have the encouragement which +I once heard a recruiting sergeant give to a numerous, if not a +respectable audience, in the streets of Kilmarnock.--'Gentlemen, +for your further and better encouragement, I can assure you that +our regiment is the most blackguard corps under the crown, and +consequently with us an honest fellow has the surest chance for +preferment.' + +You need not doubt that I find several very unpleasant and +disagreeable circumstances in my business; but I am tired with and +disgusted at the language of complaint against the evils of life. +Human existence in the most favourable situations does not abound with +pleasures, and has its inconveniences and ills; capricious foolish man +mistakes these inconveniences and ills as if they were the peculiar +property of his particular situation; and hence that eternal +fickleness, that love of change, which has ruined, and daily does +ruin many a fine fellow, as well as many a blockhead; and is, almost +without exception, a constant source of disappointment and misery.... + + + +TO FRANCIS GROSE + +_Witch tales_ + + +Dumfries, 1792. + +Among the many witch stories I have heard relating to Alloway Kirk, I +distinctly remember only two or three. + +Upon a stormy night, amid whistling squalls of wind and bitter blasts +of hail--in short, on such a night as the devil would choose to take +the air in--a farmer, or farmer's servant, was plodding and plashing +homeward, with his plough irons on his shoulder, having been getting +some repairs on them at a neighbouring smithy. His way lay by the Kirk +of Alloway, and being rather on the anxious look-out in approaching +a place so well known to be a favourite haunt of the devil and the +devil's friends and emissaries, he was struck aghast by discovering +through the horrors of the storm and stormy night a light, which, on +his nearer approach, plainly showed itself to proceed from the haunted +edifice. Whether he had been fortified from above, on his devout +supplication, as is customary with people when they suspect the +immediate presence of Satan; or whether, according to another custom, +he had got courageously drunk at the smithy, I will not pretend to +determine; but so it was that he ventured to go up to, nay, into, the +very kirk. As luck would have it, his temerity came off unpunished. + +The members of the infernal junto were all out on some midnight +business or other, and he saw nothing but a kind of kettle or +cauldron, depending from the roof over the fire, simmering some heads +of unchristened children, limbs of executed malefactors, &c., for the +business of the night. It was in for a penny, in for a pound, with the +honest ploughman; so, without ceremony, he unhooked the cauldron from +off the fire, and pouring out the damnable ingredients, inverted it +on his head, and carried it fairly home, where it remained long in the +family, a living evidence of the truth of the story. + +Another story, which I can prove to be equally authentic, was as +follows: On a market day, in the town of Ayr, a farmer from Carrick, +and consequently whose way lay by the very gate of Alloway Kirkyard, +in order to cross the river Doon at the old bridge, which is about +two or three hundred yards further on than the said gate, had been +detained by his business, till by the time he reached Alloway it was +the wizard hour between night and morning. + +Though he was terrified with a blaze streaming from the kirk, yet +as it is a well-known fact that to turn back on these occasions is +running by far the greatest risk of mischief, he prudently advanced +on his road. When he had reached the gate of the kirkyard he was +surprised and entertained through the ribs and arches of an old Gothic +window which still faces the highway, to see a dance of witches, +merrily footing it round their old sooty blackguard master, who was +keeping them all alive with the power of his bagpipe. The farmer, +stopping his horse to observe them a little, could plainly descry the +faces of many old women of his acquaintance and neighbourhood. How the +gentleman was dressed tradition does not say, but that the ladies were +all in their smocks; and one of them, happening unluckily to have a +smock which was considerably too short to answer all the purposes of +that piece of dress, our farmer was so tickled that he involuntarily +burst out with a loud laugh: 'Weel luppen, Maggy wi' the short sark!' +and recollecting himself, instantly spurred his horse to the top of +his speed. I need not mention the universally known fact, that no +diabolical power can pursue you beyond the middle of a running stream. +Lucky it was for the poor farmer that the river Doon was so near, for, +notwithstanding the speed of his horse, which was a good one, against +he reached the middle of the arch of the bridge, and consequently the +middle of the stream, the pursuing vengeful hags were so close at his +heels, that one of them actually sprang to seize him; but it was too +late, nothing was on her side of the stream but the horse's tail, +which immediately gave way at her infernal grip, as if blasted by a +stroke of lightning; but the farmer was beyond her reach. However, the +unsightly tailless condition of the vigorous steed was, to the last +hour of the noble creature's life, an awful warning to the Carrick +farmer not to stay too late in Ayr markets. + +The last relation I shall give you, though equally true, is not so +well identified as the two former, with regard to the scene; but as +the best authorities give it for Alloway, I shall relate it. + +On a summer's evening, about the time that nature puts on her sables +to mourn the expiry of the cheerful day, a shepherd boy, belonging +to a farmer in the immediate neighbourhood of Alloway Kirk, had just +folded his charge and was returning home. As he passed the kirk, in +the adjoining field, he fell in with a crew of men and women, who +were busy pulling stems of the plant ragwort. He observed that as each +person pulled a ragwort, he or she got astride of it, and called out, +'Up, horsie', on which the ragwort flew off, like Pegasus, through the +air, with its rider. The foolish boy likewise pulled his ragwort and +cried with the rest, 'Up, horsie', and, strange to tell, away he flew +with the company. The first stage at which the cavalcade stopped was +a merchant's wine-cellar in Bordeaux, where, without saying by your +leave, they quaffed away at the best the cellar could afford, until +the morning, foe to the imps and works of darkness, threatened to +throw light on the matter, and frightened them from their carousals. + +The poor shepherd lad, being equally a stranger to the scene and the +liquor, heedlessly got himself drunk; and when the rest took horse he +fell asleep, and was found so next day by some of the people belonging +to the merchant. Somebody that understood Scotch, asking him what he +was, he said he was such-a-one's herd in Alloway, and by some means or +other getting home again, he lived long to tell the world the wondrous +tale. + + + + +WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + +1770-1850 + + + +TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT + +_A brother's character_ + + +Grasmere, 20 _Feb_. 1805. + +Having spoken of worldly affairs, let me again mention my beloved +brother. It is now just five years since, after a separation of +fourteen years (I may call it a separation, for we only saw him four +or five times, and by glimpses), he came to visit his sister and me +in this cottage, and passed eight blessed months with us. He was then +waiting for the command of the ship to which he was appointed when he +quitted us. As you will have seen, we had little to live upon, and he +as little (Lord Lonsdale being then alive). But he encouraged me to +persist, and to keep my eye steady on its object. He would work for me +(that was his language), for me and his sister; and I was to endeavour +to do something for the world. He went to sea, as commander, with +this hope; his voyage was very unsuccessful, he having lost by it +considerably. When he came home, we chanced to be in London, and saw +him. 'Oh!' said he, 'I have thought of you, and nothing but you; if +ever of myself, and my bad success, it was only on your account.' He +went again to sea a second time, and also was unsuccessful; still +with the same hopes on our account, though then not so necessary, +Lord Lowther having paid the money. Lastly came the lamentable voyage, +which he entered upon, full of expectation, and love to his sister +and myself, and my wife, whom, indeed, he loved with all a brother's +tenderness. This is the end of his part of the agreement--of his +efforts for my welfare! God grant me life and strength to fulfil mine! +I shall never forget him--never lose sight of him: there is a bond +between us yet, the same as if he were living, nay, far more sacred, +calling upon me to do my utmost, as he to the last did his utmost +to live in honour and worthiness. Some of the newspapers carelessly +asserted that he did not wish to survive his ship. This is false. He +was heard by one of the surviving officers giving orders, with all +possible calmness, a very little before the ship went down; and when +he could remain at his post no longer, then, and not till then, +he attempted to save himself. I knew this would be so, but it was +satisfactory for me to have it confirmed by external evidence. Do not +think our grief unreasonable. Of all human beings whom I ever knew, he +was the man of the most rational desires, the most sedate habits, and +the most perfect self-command. He was modest and gentle, and shy even +to disease; but this was wearing off. In everything his judgements +were sound and original; his taste in all the arts, music and poetry +in particular (for these he, of course, had had the best opportunities +of being familiar with), was exquisite; and his eye for the beauties +of nature was as fine and delicate as ever poet or painter was gifted +with, in some discriminations, owing to his education and way of life, +far superior to any person's I ever knew. But, alas! what avails it? +It was the will of God that he should be taken away.... + +I trust in God that I shall not want fortitude; but my loss is great +and irreparable.... + + + +TO WALTER SCOTT + +_Dryden_ + + +Patterdale, 7 _Nov_. 1805. + +MY DEAR SCOTT, + +I was much pleased to hear of your engagement with Dryden: not that he +is, as a poet, any great favourite of mine: I admire his talents and +genius highly, but his is not a poetical genius. The only qualities +I can find in Dryden that are _essentially_ poetical, are a certain +ardour and impetuosity of mind, with an excellent ear. It may seem +strange that I do not add to this, great command of language: _that_ +he certainly has, and of such language too, as it is most desirable +that a poet should possess, or rather that he should not be without. +But it is not language that is, in the highest sense of the word, +poetical, being neither of the imagination nor of the passions; I mean +the amiable, the ennobling, or the intense passions. I do not mean to +say that there is nothing of this in Dryden, but as little, I think, +as is possible, considering how much he has written. You will easily +understand my meaning, when I refer to his versification of _Palamon +and Arcite_, as contrasted with the language of Chaucer. Dryden had +neither a tender heart nor a lofty sense of moral dignity. Whenever +his language is poetically impassioned, it is mostly upon unpleasing +subjects, such as the follies, vices, and crimes of classes of men or +of individuals, That his cannot be the language of imagination, must +have necessarily followed from this,--that there is not a single image +from nature in the whole body of his works; and in his translation +from Virgil, wherever Virgil can be fairly said to have had his _eye_ +upon his object, Dryden always spoils the passage. + +But too much of this; I am glad that you are to be his editor. +His political and satirical pieces may be greatly benefited by +illustration, and even absolutely require it. A correct text is the +first object of an editor, then such notes as explain difficult or +obscure passages; and lastly, which is much less important, notes +pointing out authors to whom the poet has been indebted, not in the +fiddling way of phrase here and phrase there, (which is detestable as +a general practice), but where he has had essential obligations either +as to matter or manner. + +If I can be of any use to you, do not fail to apply to me. One thing +I may take the liberty to suggest, which is, when you come to the +fables, might it not be advisable to print the whole of the Tales of +Boccace in a smaller type in the original language? If this should +look too much like swelling a book, I should certainly make such +extracts as would show where Dryden has most strikingly improved upon, +or fallen below, his original. I think his translations from Boccace +are the best, at least the most poetical, of his poems. It is many +years since I saw Boccace, but I remember that Sigismunda is not +married by him to Guiscard (the names are different in Boccace in both +tales, I believe--certainly in Theodore, &c.). I think Dryden has much +injured the story by the marriage, and degraded Sigismunda's character +by it. He has also, to the best of my remembrance, degraded her still +more, by making her love absolute sensuality and appetite; Dryden had +no other notion of the passion. With all these defects, and they are +very gross ones, it is a noble poem. Guiscard's answer, when first +reproached by Tancred, is noble in Boccace--nothing but this: _Amor +può molto più che ne voi ne io possiamo_. This, Dryden has spoiled. He +says first very well, 'the faults of love by love are justified,' and +then come four lines of miserable rant, quite _à la Maximin_. + + + +TO LADY BEAUMONT + +_The destiny of his poems_ + + +Coleorton, 21 _May_, 1807. + +MY DEAR LADY BEAUMONT, + +Though I am to see you so soon, I cannot but write a word or two, to +thank you for the interest you take in my poems, as evinced by your +solicitude about their immediate reception. I write partly to thank +you for this, and to express the pleasure it has given me, and partly +to remove any uneasiness from your mind which the disappointments you +sometimes meet with, in this labour of love, may occasion. I see that +you have many battles to fight for me--more than, in the ardour and +confidence of your pure and elevated mind, you had ever thought of +being summoned to; but be assured that this opposition is nothing more +than what I distinctly foresaw that you and my other friends would +have to encounter. I say this, not to give myself credit for an eye of +prophecy, but to allay any vexatious thoughts on my account which this +opposition may have produced in you. + +It is impossible that any expectations can be lower than mine +concerning the immediate effect of this little work upon what is +called the public. I do not here take into consideration the envy and +malevolence, and all the bad passions which always stand in the way of +a work of any merit from a living poet; but merely think of the pure, +absolute, honest ignorance in which all worldlings of every rank and +situation must be enveloped, with respect to the thoughts, feelings +and images on which the life of my poems depends. The things which I +have taken, whether from within or without, what have they to do with +routs, dinners, morning calls, hurry from door to door, from street to +street, on foot or in carriage; with Mr. Pitt or Mr. Fox, Mr. Paul +or Sir Francis Burdett, the Westminster election or the borough of +Honiton? In a word--for I cannot stop to make my way through the hurry +of images that present themselves to me--what have they to do with the +endless talking about things nobody cares anything for except as far +as their own vanity is concerned, and this with persons they care +nothing for but as their vanity or _selfishness_ is concerned?--what +have they to do (to say all at once) with a life without love? In such +a life there can be no thought; for we have no thought (save thoughts +of pain) but as far as we have love and admiration. + +It is an awful truth, that there neither is, nor can be, any genuine +enjoyment of poetry among nineteen out of twenty of those persons who +live, or wish to live, in the broad light of the world--among +those who either are, or are striving to make themselves, people of +consideration in society. This is a truth, and an awful one, because +to be incapable of a feeling of poetry, in my sense of the word, is to +be without love of human nature and reverence for God. + +Upon this I shall insist elsewhere; at present let me confine myself +to my object; which is to make you, my dear friend, as easy-hearted +as myself with respect to these poems. Trouble not yourself upon their +present reception; of what moment is that compared with what I trust +is their destiny?--to console the afflicted; to add sunshine to +daylight, by making the happy happier; to teach the young and the +gracious of every age to see, to think, and feel, and therefore, to +become more actively and securely virtuous; this is their office, +which I trust they will faithfully perform, long after we (that is, +all that is mortal of us) are mouldered in our graves. I am well aware +how far it would seem to many I overrate my own exertions, when I +speak in this way, in direct connexion with the volume I have just +made public. + +I am not, however, afraid of such censure, insignificant as probably +the majority of those poems would appear to very respectable persons. +I do not mean London wits and witlings, for these have too many foul +passions about them to be respectable, even if they had more intellect +than the benign laws of Providence will allow to such a heartless +existence as theirs is; but grave, kindly-natured, worthy persons, +who would be pleased if they could. I hope that these volumes are +not without some recommendations, even for readers of this class: but +their imagination has slept; and the voice which is the voice of my +poetry, without imagination, cannot be heard.... + +My letter (as this second sheet, which I am obliged to take, +admonishes me) is growing to an enormous length; and yet, saving that +I have expressed my calm confidence that these poems will live, I have +said nothing which has a particular application to the object of it, +which was to remove all disquiet from your mind on account of the +condemnation they may at present incur from that portion of my +contemporaries who are called the public. I am sure, my dear Lady +Beaumont, if you attach any importance to it, it can only be from an +apprehension that it may affect me, upon which I have already set you +at ease; or from a fear that this present blame is ominous of their +future or final destiny. If this be the case, your tenderness for me +betrays you. Be assured that the decision of these persons has nothing +to do with the question; they are altogether incompetent judges. These +people, in the senseless hurry of their idle lives, do not _read_ +books, they merely snatch a glance at them, that they may talk about +them. And even if this were not so, never forget what, I believe, was +observed to you by Coleridge, that every great and original writer, in +proportion as he is great or original, must himself create the taste +by which he is to be relished; he must teach the art by which he is to +be seen; this, in a certain degree, even to all persons, however wise +and pure may be their lives, and however unvitiated their taste. But +for those who dip into books in order to give an opinion of them, or +talk about them to take up an opinion--for this multitude of unhappy +and misguided, and misguiding beings, an entire regeneration must +be produced; and if this be possible, it must be a work of time. To +conclude, my ears are stone-dead to this idle buzz, and my flesh as +insensible as iron to these petty stings; and after what I have said, +I am sure yours will be the same. I doubt not that you will share with +me an invincible confidence that my writings (and among them these +little poems) will co-operate with the benign tendencies in human +nature and society, wherever found; and that they will in their degree +be efficacious in making men wiser, better, and happier. Farewell. +I will not apologize for this letter, though its length demands an +apology.... + + + +TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT + +_The language of poetry_ + + +[c. 1807.] + +MY DEAR SIR GEORGE, + +I am quite delighted to hear of your picture for _Peter Bell_; I was +much pleased with the sketch, and I have no doubt that the picture +will surpass it as far as a picture ought to do. I long much to see +it. I should approve of any engraver approved by you. But remember +that no poem of mine will ever be popular; and I am afraid that the +sale of _Peter_ would not carry the expense of the engraving, and that +the poem, in the estimation of the public, would be a weight upon +the print. I say not this in modest disparagement of the poem, but in +sorrow for the sickly taste of the public in verse. The _people_ would +love the poem of _Peter Bell_, but the _public_ (a very different +being) will never love it. Thanks for dear Lady B.'s transcript from +your friend's letter; it is written with candour, but I must say a +word or two not in praise of it. 'Instances of what I mean,' says your +friend, 'are to be found in a poem on a Daisy' (by the by, it is on +_the_ Daisy, a mighty difference!) 'and on _Daffodils reflected in the +Water_'. Is this accurately transcribed by Lady Beaumont? If it +be, what shall we think of criticism or judgement founded upon, and +exemplified by, a poem which must have been so inattentively perused? +My language is precise; and, therefore, it would be false modesty to +charge myself with blame. + + Beneath the trees, + Ten thousand dancing in the _breeze_. + The _waves beside_ them danced, but they + Outdid the _sparkling waves_ in glee. + +Can expression be more distinct? And let me ask your friend how it +is possible for flowers to be _reflected_ in water when there are +_waves_? They may, indeed, in _still_ water; but the very object of my +poem is the trouble or agitation, both of the flowers and the water. +I must needs respect the understanding of every one honoured by your +friendship; but sincerity compels me to say that my poems must be more +nearly looked at, before they can give rise to any remarks of much +value, even from the strongest minds. With respect to this individual +poem, Lady B. will recollect how Mrs. Fermor expressed herself upon +it. A letter also was sent to me, addressed to a friend of mine, and +by him communicated to me, in which this identical poem was singled +out for fervent approbation. What then shall we say? Why, let the poet +first consult his own heart, as I have done, and leave the rest +to posterity--to, I hope, an improving posterity. The fact is, the +English _public_ are at this moment in the same state of mind with +respect to my poems, if small things may be compared with great, as +the French are in respect to Shakespeare, and not the French alone, +but almost the whole Continent. In short, in your friend's letter, +I am condemned for the very thing for which I ought to have +been praised, viz., that I have not written down to the level of +superficial observers and unthinking minds. Every great poet is +a teacher: I wish either to be considered as a teacher, or as +nothing.... + + + + +SIR WALTER SCOTT + +1771-1832 + + + +TO HIS MOTHER + +_Marriage with Miss Carpenter_ + + +[1797.] + +MY DEAR MOTHER, + +I should very ill deserve the care and affection with which you +have ever regarded me, were I to neglect my duty so far as to omit +consulting my father and you in the most important step which I +can possibly take in life, and upon the success of which my future +happiness must depend. It is with pleasure I think that I can avail +myself of your advice and instructions in an affair of so great +importance as that which I have at present on my hands. You will +probably guess from this preamble, that I am engaged in a matrimonial +plan, which is really the case. Though my acquaintance with the young +lady has not been of long standing, this circumstance is in some +degree counterbalanced by the intimacy in which we have lived, and by +the opportunities which that intimacy has afforded me of remarking her +conduct and sentiments on many different occasions, some of which were +rather of a delicate nature, so that in fact I have seen more of her +during the few weeks we have been together, than I could have done +after a much longer acquaintance, shackled by the common forms of +ordinary life. You will not expect from me a description of her +person,--for which I refer you to my brother, as also for a fuller +account of all the circumstances attending the business than can be +comprised in the compass of a letter. Without flying into raptures, +for I must assure you that my judgement as well as my affections are +consulted upon this occasion; without flying into raptures then, I +may safely assure you, that her temper is sweet and cheerful, her +understanding good, and what I know will give you pleasure, her +principles of religion very serious. I have been very explicit +with her upon the nature of my expectations, and she thinks she can +accommodate herself to the situation which I should wish her to hold +in society as my wife, which, you will easily comprehend, I mean +should neither be extravagant nor degrading. Her fortune, though +partly dependent upon her brother, who is high in office at Madras, is +very considerable--at present £500 a-year. This, however, we must, +in some degree, regard as precarious,--I mean to the full extent; and +indeed when you know her you will not be surprised that I regard +this circumstance chiefly because it removes those prudential +considerations which would otherwise render our union impossible for +the present. Betwixt her income and my own professional exertions, I +have little doubt we will be enabled to hold the rank in society which +my family and situation entitle me to fill. + +My dear Mother, I cannot express to you the anxiety I have that you +will not think me flighty nor inconsiderate in this business. Believe +me, that experience, in one instance--you cannot fail to know to what +I allude--is too recent to permit my being so hasty in my conclusions +as the warmth of my temper might have otherwise prompted. I am also +most anxious that you should be prepared to show her kindness, which I +know the goodness of your own heart will prompt, more especially +when I tell you that she is an orphan, without relations, and almost +without friends. Her guardian is, I should say _was_, for she is of +age, Lord Downshire, to whom I must write for his consent, a piece +of respect to which he is entitled for his care of her--and there the +matter rests at present. I think I need not tell you that if I assume +the new character which I threaten, I shall be happy to find that +in that capacity, I may make myself more useful to my brothers, and +especially to Anne, than I could in any other. On the other hand, I +shall certainly expect that my friends will endeavour to show every +attention in their power to a woman who forsakes for me, prospects +much more splendid than what I can offer, and who comes into Scotland +without a single friend but myself. I find I could write a great deal +more upon this subject, but as it is late, and as I must write to my +father, I shall restrain myself. I think (but you are the best judge) +that in the circumstances in which I stand, you should write to her, +Miss Carpenter, under cover to me at Carlisle. + +Write to me very fully upon this important subject--send me your +opinion, your advice, and above all, your blessing; you will see the +necessity of not delaying a minute in doing so, and in keeping this +business _strictly private_, till you hear farther from me, since you +are not ignorant that even at this advanced period, an objection on +the part of Lord Downshire, or many other accidents, may intervene; in +which case, I should little wish my disappointment to be public. + + + +TO MISS SEWARD + +_The Lay of the Last Minstrel_ + + +Edinburgh, 21 _March_, 1805. + +MY DEAR MISS SEWARD, + +I am truly happy that you found any amusement in the _Lay of the Last +Minstrel_. It has great faults, of which no one can be more sensible +than I am myself. Above all, it is deficient in that sort of +continuity which a story ought to have, and which, were it to write +again, I would endeavour to give it. But I began and wandered forward, +like one in a pleasant country, getting to the top of one hill to see +a prospect, and to the bottom of another to enjoy a shade, and what +wonder if my course has been devious and desultory, and many of my +excursions altogether unprofitable to the advance of my journey. +The Dwarf Page is also an excrescence, and I plead guilty to all the +censures concerning him. The truth is, he has a history, and it is +this: The story of Gilpin Horner was told by an old gentleman to +Lady Dalkeith, and she, much diverted with his actually believing so +grotesque a tale, insisted that I should make it into a Border ballad. +I don't know if you ever saw my lovely chieftainess--if you have, +you must be aware that it is _impossible_ for any one to refuse her +request, as she has more of the angel in face and temper than any one +alive; so that if she had asked me to write a ballad on a broomstick I +must have attempted it. I began a few verses, to be called the Goblin +Page; and they lay long by me, till the applause of some friends +whose judgement I valued induced me to resume the poem; so on I wrote, +knowing no more than the man in the moon how I was to end. At length +the story appeared so uncouth, that I was fain to put it into +the mouth of my old minstrel--lest the nature of it should be +misunderstood, and I should be suspected of setting up a new school of +poetry, instead of a feeble attempt to imitate the old. In the process +of romance the page, intended to be a principal person in the work, +contrived (from the baseness of his natural propensities, I suppose) +to slink downstairs into the kitchen, and now he must e'en abide +there. + +I mention these circumstances to you, and to any one whose applause I +value, because I am unwilling you should suspect me of trifling with +the public in _malice prepense_. As to the herd of critics, it is +impossible for me to pay much attention to them; for, as they do not +understand what I call poetry, we talk in a foreign language to each +other. Indeed, many of these gentlemen appear to me to be a sort of +tinkers, who, unable to _make_ pots and pans, set up for _menders_ of +them, and, God knows, often make two holes in patching one. The sixth +canto is altogether redundant; for the poem should certainly have +closed with the union of the lovers, when the interest, if any, was +at an end. But what could I do? I had my book and my page still on my +hands, and must get rid of them at all events. Manage them as I would, +their catastrophe must have been insufficient to occupy an entire +canto; so I was fain to eke it out with the songs of the minstrels. I +will now descend from the confessional, which I think I have occupied +long enough for the patience of my fair confessor. I am happy you are +disposed to give me absolution, notwithstanding all my sins. We have a +new poet come forth amongst us--James Graham, author of a poem called +_The Sabbath_, which I admire very much. If I can find an opportunity +I will send you a copy. + + + + +TO LADY LOUISA STUART + +_An amiable blue-stocking_ + + +Edinburgh, 16 _June_, 1808. + +MY DEAR LADY LOUISA, + +Nothing will give us more pleasure than to have the honour of showing +every attention in our power to Mr. and Mrs. Morritt, and I am +particularly happy in a circumstance that at once promises me a great +deal of pleasure in the acquaintance of your Ladyship's friends, and +affords me the satisfaction of hearing from you again. Pray don't +triumph over me too much in the case of Lydia. I stood a very +respectable siege; but she caressed my wife, coaxed my children, +and made, by dint of cake and pudding, some impression even upon +the affections of my favourite dog: so, when all the outworks +were carried, the mere fortress had no choice but to surrender on +honourable terms. To the best of my thinking, notwithstanding the +cerulean hue of her stockings, and a most plentiful stock of eccentric +affectation, she is really at bottom a good-natured woman, with much +liveliness and some talent. She is now set out to the Highlands, where +she is likely to encounter many adventures. Mrs. Scott and I went as +far as Loch Catrine with her, from which jaunt I have just returned. +We had most heavenly weather, which was peculiarly favourable to my +fair companions' zeal for sketching every object that fell in their +way, from a castle to a pigeon-house. Did your Ladyship ever travel +with a _drawing_ companion? Mine drew like cart-horses, as well in +laborious zeal as in effect; for, after all, I could not help hinting +that the cataracts delineated bore a singular resemblance to haycocks, +and the rocks much correspondence to large old-fashioned cabinets +with their folding-doors open. So much for Lydia, whom I left on her +journey through the Highlands, but by what route she had not resolved. +I gave her three plans, and think it likely she will adopt none +of them: moreover, when the executive government of postilions, +landlords, and Highland boatmen devolves upon her English servant +instead of me, I am afraid the distresses of the errant damsels will +fall a little beneath the dignity of romances. All this nonsense is +_entre nous_, for Miss White has been actively zealous in getting me +some Irish correspondence about Swift, and otherwise very obliging. + +It is not with my inclination that I fag for the booksellers; but what +can I do? My poverty and not my will consents. The income of my office +is only reversionary, and my private fortune much limited. My poetical +success fairly destroyed my prospects of professional success, and +obliged me to retire from the bar; for though I had a competent share +of information and industry, who would trust their cause to the author +of the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_? Now, although I do allow that an +author should take care of his literary character, yet I think the +least thing that his literary character can do in return is to take +some care of the author, who is unfortunately, like Jeremy in _Love +for Love_, furnished with a set of tastes and appetites which would +do honour to the income of a Duke if he had it. Besides, I go to work +with Swift _con amore_; for, like Dryden, he is an early favourite +of mine. The _Marmion_ is nearly out, and I have made one or two +alterations on the third edition, with which the press is now +groaning. So soon as it is, it will make the number of copies +published within the space of six months amount to eight thousand,--an +immense number, surely, and enough to comfort the author's wounded +feelings, had the claws of the reviewers been able to reach him +through the _steel jack_ of true Border indifference. + + + +TO ROBERT SOUTHEY + +_Congratulations_ + + +Edinburgh, 13 _Nov._ 1813. + +I do not delay, my dear Southey, to say my _gratulor_. Long may you +live, as Paddy says, to rule over us, and to redeem the crown of +Spenser and of Dryden to its pristine dignity. I am only discontented +with the extent of your royal revenue, which I thought had been £400, +or £300 at the very least. Is there no getting rid of that iniquitous +modus, and requiring the _butt_ in kind? I would have you think of it: +I know no man so well entitled to Xeres sack as yourself, though many +bards would make a better figure at drinking it. I should think that +in due time a memorial might get some relief in this part of the +appointment--it should be at least £100 wet and £100 dry. When you +have carried your point of discarding the ode, and my point of getting +the sack, you will be exactly in the situation of Davy in the +farce, who stipulates for more wages, less work, and the key of the +ale-cellar. I was greatly delighted with the circumstances of +your investiture. It reminded me of the porters at Calais with Dr. +Smollett's baggage, six of them seizing upon one small portmanteau, +and bearing it in triumph to his lodgings. You see what it is to +laugh at the superstitions of a gentleman-usher, as I think you do +somewhere. 'The whirligig of Time brings about his revenges.' + +Adieu, my dear Southey; my best wishes attend all that you do, and my +best congratulations every good that attends you--yea even this, the +very least of Providence's mercies, as a poor clergyman said when +pronouncing grace over a herring. I should like to know how the prince +received you; his address is said to be excellent, and his knowledge +of literature far from despicable. What a change of fortune even +since the short time when we met! The great work of retribution is now +rolling onward to consummation, yet am I not fully satisfied--_pereat +iste_--there will be no permanent peace in Europe till Buonaparte +sleeps with the tyrants of old. + + + +TO J.B.S. MORRITT + +_A small anonymous sort of a novel_ + + +Edinburgh, 9 _July_, 1814. + +MY DEAR MORRITT, + +I owe you many apologies for not sooner answering your very +entertaining letter upon your Parisian journey. I heartily wish I had +been of your party, for you have seen what I trust will not be seen +again in a hurry; since, to enjoy the delight of a restoration, there +is a necessity for a previous _bouleversement_ of everything that is +valuable in morals and policy which seems to have been the case in +France since 1790. The Duke of Buccleugh told me yesterday of a very +good reply of Louis to some of his attendants, who proposed shutting +the doors of his apartments to keep out the throng of people. 'Open +the door,' he said, 'to John Bull; he has suffered a great deal in +keeping the door open for me.' + +Now, to go from one important subject to another, I must account for +my own laziness, which I do by referring you to a small anonymous sort +of a novel, in three volumes, _Waverley_, which you will receive by +the mail of this day. It was a very old attempt of mine to embody some +traits of those characters and manners peculiar to Scotland, the last +remnants of which vanished during my own youth, so that few or no +traces now remain. I had written great part of the first volume, and +sketched other passages, when I mislaid the MS., and only found it by +the merest accident as I was rummaging the drawers of an old cabinet; +and I took the fancy of finishing it, which I did so fast, that the +last two volumes were written in three weeks. I had a great deal of +fun in the accomplishment of this task, though I do not expect that it +will be popular in the south, as much of the humour, if there be any, +is local, and some of it even professional. You, however, who are an +adopted Scotchman, will find some amusement in it. It has made a very +strong impression here, and the good people of Edinburgh are busied in +tracing the author, and in finding out originals for the portraits it +contains. In the first case, they will probably find it difficult to +convict the guilty author, although he is far from escaping suspicion. +Jeffrey has offered to make oath that it is mine, and another great +critic has tendered his affidavit _ex contrario_; so that these +authorities have divided the Gude Town. However, the thing has +succeeded very well, and is thought highly of. I don't know if it has +got to London yet. I intend to maintain my _incognito_. Let me know +your opinion about it.... + +24 _July_. + +... I had just proceeded thus far when your kind favour of the +21st reached Abbotsford. I am heartily glad you continued to like +_Waverley_ to the end. The hero is a sneaking piece of imbecility; +and if he had married Flora, she would have set him up upon the +chimney-piece, as Count Borowlaski's wife used to do with him. I am +a bad hand at depicting a hero properly so called, and have an +unfortunate propensity for the dubious characters of borderers, +buccaneers, Highland robbers, and all others of a Robin-Hood +description. I do not know why it should be, as I am myself, like +Hamlet, indifferent honest; but I suppose the blood of the old +cattle-drivers of Teviotdale continues to stir in my veins. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Acceptance of a baronetcy_ + + +Edinburgh, 7 _Dec._, 1818. + +MY DEAR MORRITT, + +... There is another thing I have to whisper in your faithful ear. Our +fat friend being desirous to honour Literature in my unworthy person, +has intimated to me, by his organ the Doctor, that, with consent ample +and unanimous of all the potential voices of all his ministers, +each more happy than another of course on so joyful an occasion, he +proposes to dub me Baronet. It would be easy saying a parcel of fine +things about my contempt of rank, and so forth; but although I would +not have gone a step out of my way to have asked, or bought, or +begged, or borrowed a distinction, which to me personally will rather +be inconvenient than otherwise, yet, coming as it does directly from +the source of feudal honours, and as an honour, I am really gratified +with it;--especially as it is intimated, that it is his Royal +Highness's pleasure to heat the oven for me expressly, without waiting +till he has some new _batch_ of Baronets ready in dough. In plain +English, I am to be gazetted _per se_. My poor friend Carpenter's +bequest to my family has taken away a certain degree of +_impecuniosity_, a necessity of saving cheese-parings and candle-ends, +which always looks inconsistent with any little pretension to rank. +But as things now stand, Advance banners in the name of God and St. +Andrew. Remember, I anticipate the jest, 'I like not such grinning +honours, as Sir Walter hath.' After all, if one must speak for +themselves, I have my quarters and emblazonments, free of all stain +but Border theft and High Treason, which I hope are gentleman-like +crimes; and I hope Sir Walter Scott will not sound worse than Sir +Humphry Davy, though my merits are as much under his, in point of +utility, as can well be imagined. But a name is something, and mine +is the better of the two. Set down this flourish to the account +of national and provincial pride, for you must know we have more +Messieurs de Sotenville in our Border counties than anywhere else in +the Lowlands--I cannot say for the Highlands. + + + +TO LORD MONTAGU + +_Prince Leopold's visit_ + + +Abbotsford, 3 _Oct._ 1819. + +MY DEAR LORD, + +I am honoured with your Buxton letter.... _Anent_ Prince Leopold, I +only heard of his approach at eight o'clock in the morning, and he +was to be at Selkirk by eleven. The magistrates sent to ask me to help +them to receive him. It occurred to me he might be coming to Melrose +to see the Abbey, in which case I could not avoid asking him to +Abbotsford, as he must pass my very door. I mentioned this to Mrs. +Scott, who was lying quietly in bed, and I wish you had heard the +scream she gave on the occasion. 'What have we to offer him?'--'Wine +and cake,' said I, thinking to make all things easy; but she +ejaculated, in a tone of utter despair, 'Cake!! where am I to get +cake?' However, being partly consoled with the recollection that his +visit was a very improbable incident, and curiosity, as usual, proving +too strong for alarm, she set out with me in order not to miss a peep +of the great man. James Skene and his lady were with us, and we gave +our carriages such additional dignity as a pair of leaders could add, +and went to meet him in full puff. The Prince very civilly told me, +that, though he could not see Melrose on this occasion, he wished to +come to Abbotsford for an hour. New despair on the part of Mrs. Scott, +who began to institute a domiciliary search for cold meat through the +whole city of Selkirk, which produced _one shoulder of cold lamb_. In +the meanwhile, his Royal Highness received the civic honours of the +BIRSE[1] very graciously. I had hinted to Bailie Lang, that it ought +only to be licked _symbolically_ on the present occasion; so he +flourished it three times before his mouth, but without touching it +with his lips, and the Prince followed his example as directed. Lang +made an excellent speech, sensible, and feeling, and well delivered. +The Prince seemed much surprised at this great propriety of expression +and behaviour in a magistrate, whose people seemed such a rabble, and +whose whole band of music consisted in a drum and fife. He noticed to +Bailie Anderson, that Selkirk seemed very populous in proportion +to its extent. 'On an occasion like this it seems so,' answered the +Bailie, neatly enough I thought. I question if any magistrates in the +kingdom, lord mayors and aldermen not excepted, could have behaved +with more decent and quiet good-breeding. Prince Leopold repeatedly +alluded to this during the time he was at Abbotsford. I do not know +how Mrs. Scott ultimately managed; but with broiled salmon, and +black-cock, and partridges, she gave him a very decent lunch; and I +chanced to have some very fine old hock, which was mighty germain to +the matter. + +The Prince seems melancholy, whether naturally or from habit, I do not +pretend to say; but I do not remember thinking him so at Paris, where +I saw him frequently, then a much poorer man than myself; yet he +showed some humour, for alluding to the crowds that followed him +everywhere, he mentioned some place where he had gone out to shoot, +but was afraid to proceed for fear of 'bagging a boy'. He said +he really thought of getting some shooting-place in Scotland, and +promised me a longer visit on his return. If I had had a day's +notice to have _warned the waters_, we could have met him with a very +respectable number of the gentry; but there was no time for this, and +probably he liked it better as it was. There was only young Clifton +who could have come, and he was shy and cubbish, and would not, though +requested by the Selkirk people. He was perhaps ashamed to march +through Coventry with them. It hung often and sadly on my mind that +_he_ was wanting who could and would have received him like a Prince +indeed; and yet the meeting betwixt them, had they been fated to meet, +would have been a very sad one. I think I have now given your +lordship a very full, true, and particular account of our royal visit, +unmatched even by that of King Charles at the Castle of Tillietudlem. +That we did not speak of it for more than a week after it happened, +and that that emphatic monosyllable, _The Prince_, is not heard +amongst us more than ten times a-day, is, on the whole, to the credit +of my family's understanding. The piper is the only one whose brain he +seems to have endangered; for, as the Prince said he preferred him to +any he had heard in the Highlands--(which, by the way, shows his +Royal Highness knows nothing of the matter),--the fellow seems to have +become incapable of his ordinary occupation as a forester, and has cut +stick and stem without remorse to the tune of _Phail Phranse_, i.e. +the Prince's welcome. + +[Footnote 1: Bundle of hog's bristles; symbol of the soutars.] + + + +To DANIEL TERRY + +_Progress at Abbotsford_ + + +Abbotsford, 10 _Nov_. 1822. + +My dear Terry, + +I got all the plans safe, and they are delightful. The library +ceiling will be superb, and we have plenty of ornaments for it without +repeating one of those in the eating-room. The plan of shelves is also +excellent, and will, I think, for a long time suffice my collection. +The brasses for the shelves I like--but not the price: the notched +ones, after all, do very well. I have had three grand hawls since I +last wrote to you. The pulpit, repentance-stool, King's seat, and +God knows how much of carved wainscot, from the kirk of Dunfermline, +enough to coat the hall to the height of seven feet:--supposing +it boarded above, for hanging guns, old portraits, intermixed with +armour, &c.--it will be a superb entrance-gallery: this is hawl the +first. Hawl second is twenty-four pieces of the most splendid Chinese +paper, twelve feet high by four wide, a present from my cousin Hugh +Scott, enough to finish the drawing-room and two bedrooms. Hawl third +is a quantity of what is called Jamaica cedar-wood, enough for fitting +up both the drawing-room and the library, including the presses, +shelves, &c.: the wood is finely pencilled and most beautiful, +something like the colour of gingerbread; it costs very little more +than oak, works much easier, and is never touched by vermin of any +kind. I sent Mr. Atkinson a specimen, but it was from the plain end of +the plank; the interior is finely waved and variegated. Your kind +and unremitting exertions in our favour will soon plenish the +drawing-room. Thus we at present stand. We have a fine old English +cabinet, with china, &c.-and two superb elbow-chairs, the gift of +Constable, carved most magnificently, with groups of children, fruit, +and flowers, in the Italian taste: they came from Rome, and are much +admired. It seems to me that the mirror you mention, being framed in +carved box, would answer admirably well with the chairs, which are of +the same material. The mirror should, I presume, be placed over +the drawing-room chimney-piece; and opposite to it I mean to put an +antique table of mosaic marbles, to support Chantrey's bust. A good +sofa would be desirable, and so would the tapestry screen, if really +fresh and beautiful; but as much of our furniture will be a little +antiquated, one would not run too much into that taste in so small an +apartment. For the library I have the old oak chairs now in the little +armoury, eight in number, and we might add one or two pair of the +ebony chairs you mention. I should think this enough, for many seats +in such a room must impede access to the books; and I don't mean +the library to be on ordinary occasions a public room. Perhaps the +tapestry-screen would suit better here than in the drawing-room. I +have one library table here, and shall have another made for atlases +and prints. For the hall I have four chairs of black oak. In other +matters we can make it out well enough. In fact, it is my object +rather to keep under my new accommodations at first, both to avoid +immediate outlay, and that I may leave room for pretty things which +may occur hereafter. I would to Heaven I could take a cruise with you +through the brokers, which would be the pleasantest affair possible, +only I am afraid I should make a losing voyage of it. Mr. Atkinson has +missed a little my idea of the oratory, fitting it up entirely as +a bookcase, whereas I should like to have had recesses for +curiosities--for the Bruce's skull--for a crucifix, &c., &c.-in short, +a little cabinet instead of a book-closet. Four sides of books would +be perfectly sufficient; the other four, so far as not occupied by +door or window, should be arranged tastefully for antiquities, &c., +like the inside of an antique cabinet, with drawers, and shottles, and +funny little arches. The oak screen dropped as from the clouds: it is +most acceptable; I might have guessed there was only one kind friend +so ready to supply hay to my hobby-horse. You have my views in these +matters and your own taste; and I will send the _needful_ when +you apprise me of the amount total. Where things are not quite +satisfactory, it is better to wait a while on every account, for the +amusement is over when one has room for nothing more. The house is +completely roofed, &c., and looks worthy of Mrs. Terry's painting. I +never saw anything handsomer than the grouping of towers, chimneys, +&c. upon the roof, when seen at a proper distance. + +Once more, let me wish you joy of your professional success. I can +judge, by a thousand minute items, of the advance you make with the +public, just as I can of the gradual progress of my trees, because I +am interested in both events. You may say, like Burke, you were not +'coaxed and dandled into eminence' but have fought your way gallantly, +shown your passport at every barrier, and been always a step in +advance, without a single retrograde movement. Every one wishes to +advance rapidly, but when the desired position is gained, it is far +more easily maintained by him whose ascent has been gradual, and whose +favour is founded not on the unreasonable expectations entertained +from one or two seasons, but from an habitual experience of the power +of pleasing during several years. You say not a word of poor Wattles. +I hope little Miss has not put his nose out of joint entirely. + +I have not been very well--a whoreson thickness of blood, and a +depression of spirits arising from the loss of friends (to whom I +am now to add poor Wedderburne), have annoyed me much; and _Peveril_ +will, I fear, smell of the apoplexy. I propose a good rally, however, +and hope it will be a powerful effect. My idea is, _entre nous_, a +Scotch archer in the French King's guard, _tempore_ Louis XI, the most +picturesque of all times. + + + +TO J.B.S. MORRITT + +_A brave face to the world_ + + +Edinburgh, 6 _Feb._ 1826. + +MY DEAR MORRITT, + +It is very true I have been, and am in danger, of a pecuniary loss, +and probably a very large one, which in the uncertainty I look at as +to the full extent, being the manly way of calculating such matters, +since one may be better, but can hardly be worse. I can't say I +feel overjoyed at losing a large sum of hard-earned money in a most +unexpected manner, for all men considered Constable's people secure as +the Bank; yet, as I have obtained an arrangement of payment convenient +for every body concerned, and easy for myself, I cannot say that I +care much about the matter. Some economical restrictions I will make; +and it happened oddly that they were such as Lady Scott and myself +had almost determined upon without this compulsion. Abbotsford will +henceforth be our only establishment; and during the time I must be +in town, I will take my bed at the Albyn Club. We shall also break +off the rather excessive hospitality to which we were exposed, and no +longer stand host and hostess to all that do pilgrimage to Melrose. +Then I give up an expensive farm, which I always hated, and turn +all my odds and ends into cash. I do not reckon much on my literary +exertions--I mean in proportion to former success--because popular +taste may fluctuate. But with a moderate degree of the favour which +I have always had, my time my own, and my mind unplagued about other +things, I may boldly promise myself soon to get the better of this +blow. In these circumstances, I should be unjust and ungrateful to ask +or accept the pity of my friends. I for one, do not see there is much +occasion for making moan about it. My womankind will be the greater +sufferers,--yet even they look cheerily forward; and, for myself, the +blowing off my hat in a stormy day has given me more uneasiness. + +I envy your Brighton party, and your fine weather. When I was at +Abbotsford the mercury was down at six or seven in the morning more +than once. I am hammering away at a bit of a story from the old affair +of the _diablerie_ at Woodstock in the Long Parliament times. I don't +like it much. I am obliged to hamper my fanatics greatly too much +to make them effective; but I make the sacrifice on principle; so, +perhaps, I shall deserve good success in other parts of the work. +You will be surprised when I tell you that I have written a volume in +exactly fifteen days. To be sure, I permitted no interruptions. But +then I took exercise, and for ten days of the fifteen attended the +Court of Session from two to four hours every day. This is nothing, +however, to writing _Ivanhoe_ when I had the actual cramp in my +stomach; but I have no idea of these things preventing a man +from doing what he has a mind. My love to all the party at +Brighton--fireside party I had almost said, but you scorn my +words--seaside party then be it. Lady Scott and Anne join in kindest +love. I must close my letter, for one of the consequences of our +misfortunes is, that we dine every day at half-past four o'clock; +which premature hour arises, I suppose, from sorrow being hungry as +well as thirsty. One most laughable part of our tragic comedy was, +that every friend in the world came formally, just as they do here +when a relation dies, thinking that the eclipse of _les beaux yeux de +ma cassette_ was perhaps a loss as deserving of consolation. + + + +TO MARIA EDGEWORTH + +_Time's revenges_ + + +Edinburgh, 23 _June_, 1830. + +MY DEAR MISS EDGEWORTH, + +Nothing would be so valuable to me as the mark of kindness which you +offer, and yet my kennel is so much changed since I had the pleasure +of seeing you, that I must not accept of what I wished so sincerely +to possess. I am the happy owner of two of the noble breed, each of +gigantic size, and the gift of that sort of Highlander whom we call a +High Chief, so I would hardly be justified in parting with them even +to make room for your kind present, and I should have great doubts +whether the mountaineers would receive the Irish stranger with due +hospitality. One of them I had from poor Glengarry, who, with all the +wild and fierce points of his character, had a kind, honest, and +warm heart. The other from a young friend, whom Highlanders call +MacVourigh, and Lowlanders MacPherson of Cluny. He is a fine spirited +boy, fond of his people and kind to them, and the best dancer of a +Highland reel now living. I fear I must not add a third to Nimrod and +Bran, having little use for them except being pleasant companions. As +to labouring in their vocation, we have only one wolf which I know +of, kept in a friend's menagerie near me, and no wild deer. Walter +has some roebucks indeed, but Lochore is far off, and I begin to +feel myself distressed at running down these innocent and beautiful +creatures, perhaps because I cannot gallop so fast after them as to +drown sense of the pain we are inflicting. And yet I suspect I am like +the sick fox; and if my strength and twenty years could come back, I +would become again a copy of my namesake, remembered by the sobriquet +of Walter _ill tae hauld_ (to hold, that is). 'But age has clawed +me in its clutch,' and there is no remedy for increasing disability +except dying, which is an awkward score. + +There is some chance of my retiring from my official situation upon +the changes in the Court of Session. They cannot reduce my office, +though they do not wish to fill it up with a new occupant. I shall be +therefore _de trop_; and in these days of economy they will be better +pleased to let me retire on three parts of my salary than to keep me a +Clerk of Session on the whole; and small grief at our parting, as the +old horse said to the broken cart. And yet, though I thought such a +proposal when first made was like a Pisgah peep at Paradise, I cannot +help being a little afraid of changing the habits of a long life all +of a sudden and for ever. You ladies have always your work-basket and +stocking-knitting to wreak an hour of tediousness upon. The routine of +business serves, I suspect, for the same purpose to us male wretches; +it is seldom a burden to the mind, but a something which must be done, +and is done almost mechanically; and though dull judges and duller +clerks, the routine of law proceedings, and law forms, are very unlike +the plumed troops and the tug of war, yet the result is the same. +The occupation's gone. The morning, that the day's news must all be +gathered from other sources--that the jokes which the principal Clerks +of Session have laughed at weekly for a century, and which would not +move a muscle of any other person's face, must be laid up to perish +like those of Sancho in the Sierra Morena--I don't above half like +forgetting all these moderate habits, and yet + + Ah, freedom is a noble thing! + +as says the old Scottish poet. So I will cease my regrets, or lay them +by to be taken up and used as arguments of comfort, in case I do not +slip my cable after all, which is highly possible. Lockhart and Sophia +have taken up their old residence at Chiefswood. They are very fond of +the place; and I am glad also my grandchildren will be bred near the +heather, for certain qualities which I think are best taught there. + + + + +SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE + +1772-1834 + + + +TO CHARLES LAMB + +_A sympathetic reply_[1] + + +28 _Sept._ 1796. + +Your letter, my friend, struck me with a mighty horror. It rushed upon +me and stupefied my feelings. You bid me write you a religious letter; +I am not a man who would attempt to insult the greatness of your +anguish by any other consolation. Heaven knows that in the easiest +fortunes there is much dissatisfaction and weariness of spirit: +much that calls for the exercise of patience and resignation; but +in storms, like these, that shake the dwelling and make the heart +tremble, there is no middle way between despair and the yielding up of +the whole spirit unto the guidance of faith. And surely it is a matter +of joy, that your faith in Jesus has been preserved; the Comforter +that should relieve you is not far from you. But as you are a +Christian, in the name of that Saviour, who was filled with bitterness +and made drunken with wormwood, I conjure you to have recourse in +frequent prayer to 'his God and your God'; the God of mercies, and +father of all comfort. Your poor father is, I hope, almost senseless +of the calamity; the unconscious instrument of Divine Providence knows +it not, and your mother is in heaven. It is sweet to be roused from +a frightful dream by the song of birds, and the gladsome rays of +the morning. Ah, how infinitely more sweet to be awakened from the +blackness and amazement of a sudden horror by the glories of God +manifest and the hallelujahs of angels. + +As to what regards yourself, I approve altogether of your abandoning +what you justly call vanities. I look upon you as a man called by +sorrow and anguish and a strange desolation of hopes into quietness, +and a soul set apart and made peculiar to God. We cannot arrive at any +portion of heavenly bliss without in some measure imitating Christ; +and they arrive at the largest inheritance who imitate the most +difficult parts of His character, and, bowed down and crushed under +foot, cry in fullness of faith, 'Father, Thy will be done.' + +I wish above measure to have you for a little while here--no visitants +shall blow on the nakedness of your feelings--you shall be quiet, and +your spirit may be healed. I see no possible objection, unless your +father's helplessness prevent you, and unless you are necessary to +him. If this be not the case, I charge you write me that you will +come. + +I charge you, my dearest friend, not to dare to encourage gloom or +despair--you are a temporary sharer in human miseries, that you may +be an eternal partaker of the Divine nature. I charge you, if by any +means it be possible, come to me. + +[Footnote 1: See Letter, p. 355.] + + + +TO JOSEPH COTTLE + +_Literary adventurers_ + + +[1798.] + +MY DEAR COTTLE, + +Neither Wordsworth nor myself could have been otherwise than +uncomfortable, if any but yourself had received from us the first +offer of our tragedies, and of the volume of Wordsworth's poems. At +the same time, we did not expect that you could with prudence and +propriety, advance such a sum as we should want at the time we +specified. In short, we both regard the publication of our tragedies +as an evil. It is not impossible but that in happier times they may be +brought on the stage: and to throw away this chance for a mere trifle, +would be to make the present moment act fraudulently and usuriously +towards the future time. + +My tragedy employed and strained all my thoughts and faculties for +six or seven months; Wordsworth consumed far more time, and far more +thought, and far more genius. We consider the publication of them +an evil on any terms; but our thoughts were bent on a plan for the +accomplishment of which a certain sum of money was necessary, (the +whole) at that particular time, and in order to do this we resolved, +although reluctantly, to part with our tragedies: that is, if we +could obtain thirty guineas for each, and at less than thirty guineas +Wordsworth will not part with the copyright of his volume of poems. We +shall offer the tragedies to no one, for we have determined to procure +the money some other way. If you choose the volume of poems, at +the price mentioned, to be paid at the time specified, i.e. thirty +guineas, to be paid sometime in the last fortnight of July, you may +have them; but remember, my dear fellow! I write to you now merely as +a bookseller, and entreat you, in your answer, to consider yourself +only; as to us, although money is necessary to our plan [that of +visiting Germany], yet the plan is not necessary to our happiness; and +if it were, W. would sell his poems for that sum to some one else, +or we could procure the money without selling the poems. So I entreat +you, again and again, in your answer, which must be immediate, +consider yourself only. + +Wordsworth has been caballed against _so long and so loudly_, that +he has found it impossible to prevail on the tenant of the Allfoxden +estate to let him the house, after their first agreement is expired, +so he must quit it at midsummer; whether we shall be able to procure +him a house and furniture near Stowey, we know not, and yet we must: +for the hills, and the woods, and the streams, and the sea, and the +shores would break forth into reproaches against us, if we did not +strain every nerve to keep their poet among them. Without joking, and +in serious sadness, Poole and I cannot endure to think of losing him. + +At all events, come down, Cottle, as soon as you can, but before +midsummer, and we will procure a horse easy as thy own soul, and we +will go on a roam to Lynton and Lynmouth, which, if thou comest in +May, will be in all their pride of woods and waterfalls, not to speak +of its august cliffs, and the green ocean, and the vast valley of +stones, all which live disdainful of the seasons, or accept new +honours only from the winter's snow. At all events come down, and +cease not to believe me much and affectionately your friend. + + + +TO JOSIAH WADE + +_A public example_ + + +Bristol, 26 _June_, 1814. + +DEAR SIR, + +For I am unworthy to call any good man friend--much less you, whose +hospitality and love I have abused; accept, however, my entreaties for +your forgiveness, and for your prayers. + +Conceive a poor miserable wretch, who for many years has been +attempting to beat off pain, by a constant recurrence to the vice that +reproduces it. Conceive a spirit in hell, employed in tracing out for +others the road to that heaven, from which his crimes exclude him! In +short, conceive whatever is most wretched, helpless, and hopeless, and +you will form as tolerable a notion of my state, as it is possible for +a good man to have. + +I used to think the text in St. James that 'he who offendeth in one +point, offends in all,' very harsh; but I now feel the awful, the +tremendous truth of it. In the one crime of OPIUM, what crime have +I not made myself guilty of! Ingratitude to my Maker! and to my +benefactors--injustice! _and unnatural cruelty to my poor children! +_--self-contempt for my repeated promise-breach, nay, too often, +actual falsehood! + +After my death, I earnestly entreat that a full and unqualified +narration of my wretchedness, and of its guilty cause, may be made +public, that, at least, some little good may be effected by the +direful example! + +May God Almighty bless you, and have mercy on your still affectionate, +and, in his heart, grateful + +S.T.C. + + + +TO THOMAS ALLSOP + +_Himself and his detractors_ + + +2 _Dec._ 1818. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +I cannot express how kind I felt your letter. Would to Heaven I had +had many with feelings like yours, 'accustomed to express themselves +warmly and (as far as the word is applicable to you), even +enthusiastically'. But alas! during the prime manhood of my intellect +I had nothing but cold water thrown on my efforts. I speak not now of +my systematic and most unprovoked maligners. On _them_ I have retorted +only by pity and by prayer. These may have, and doubtless have, joined +with the frivolity of 'the reading public' in checking and almost in +preventing the sale of my works; and so far have done injury to +my _purse_. _Me_ they have not injured. But I have loved with +enthusiastic self-oblivion those who have been so well pleased that +I should, year after year, flow with a hundred nameless rills into +_their_ main stream, that they could find nothing but cold praise and +effective discouragement of every attempt of mine to roll onward in a +distinct current of my own; who _admitted_ that the _Ancient Mariner_, +the _Christabel_, the _Remorse_, and some pages of the _Friend_ +were not without merit, but were abundantly anxious to acquit their +judgements of any blindness to the very numerous defects. Yet they +_knew_ that to _praise_, as mere praise, I was characteristically, +almost constitutionally, indifferent. In sympathy alone I found at +once nourishment and stimulus; and for sympathy _alone_ did my heart +crave. They knew, too, how long and faithfully I have acted on the +maxim, never to admit the _faults_ of a work of genius to those who +denied or were incapable of feeling and understanding the _beauties_; +not from wilful partiality, but as well knowing that in _saying_ truth +I should, to such critics, convey falsehood. If, in one instance, in +my literary life I have appeared to deviate from this rule, first, +it was not till the fame of the writer (which I had been for fourteen +years successfully toiling like a second Ali to build up) had been +established; and secondly and chiefly, with the purpose and, I may +safely add, with the _effect_ of rescuing the necessary task from +Malignant Defamers, and in order to set forth the excellences and the +trifling proportion which the defects bore to the excellences. But +this, my dear sir, is a mistake to which affectionate natures are too +liable, though I do not remember to have ever seen it noticed--the +mistaking those who are desirous and well pleased to be loved _by_ +you, for those who love you. Add, as a more general cause, the fact +that I neither am nor ever have been of any party. What wonder, then, +if I am left to decide which has been my worst enemy, the broad, +pre-determined abuse of the _Edinburgh Review_, &c., or the cold and +brief compliments, with the warm _regrets_, of the _Quarterly_? After +all, however, I have now but one sorrow relative to the ill success of +my literary toils (and toils they have been, _though not undelightful +toils_), and this arises wholly from the almost insurmountable +difficulties which the anxieties of to-day oppose to my completion +of the great work, the form and materials of which it has been the +employment of the best and most genial hours of the last twenty years +to mature and collect. + +If I could but have a tolerably numerous audience to my first, or +first and second Lectures on the _History of Philosophy_, I should +entertain a strong hope of success, because I know that these lectures +will be found by far the most interesting and _entertaining_ of any +that I have yet delivered, independent of the more permanent interest +of rememberable instruction. Few and unimportant would the errors of +men be, if they did but know, first, _what they themselves meant_; +and, secondly, what the _words_ mean by which they attempt to convey +their meaning, and I can conceive no subject so well fitted to +exemplify the mode and the importance of these two points as the +History of Philosophy, treated as in the scheme of these lectures. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The Great Work described_ + + +_Jan._ 1821. + +... I have already the _written_ materials and contents, requiring +only to be put together from the loose papers and commonplace or +memorandum books, and needing no other change, whether of omission, +addition, or correction, than the mere act of arranging, and the +opportunity of seeing the whole collectively bring with them of course +(1) Characteristics of Shakespeare's dramatic works, with a critical +review of each play; together with a relative and comparative critique +on the kind and degree of the merits and demerits of the dramatic +works of Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, and Massinger. The +History of the English Drama; the accidental advantages it afforded +to Shakespeare, without in the least detracting from the perfect +originality or proper creation of the Shakespearian Drama; the +contradistinction of the latter from the Greek Drama, and its still +remaining _uniqueness_, with the causes of this, from the combined +influences of Shakespeare himself, as man, poet, philosopher, and +finally, by conjunction of all these, dramatic poet; and of the age, +events, manners, and state of the English language. This work, with +every art of compression, amounts to three volumes of about five +hundred pages each. (2) Philosophical Analysis of the Genius and Works +of Dante, Spenser, Milton, Cervantes, and Calderon, with similar, but +more compressed criticisms on Chaucer, Ariosto, Donne, Rabelais, and +others, during the predominance of the Romantic Poetry. In one large +volume. These two works will, I flatter myself, form a complete code +of the principles of judgement and feeling applied to works of Taste; +and not of Poetry only, but of Poesy in all its forms, Painting, +Statuary, Music, &c., &c. (3) The History of Philosophy considered +as a Tendency of the Human Mind to exhibit the Powers of the Human +Reason, to discover by its own Strength the Origin and Laws of Man and +the World, from Pythagoras to Locke and Condillac. Two volumes. +(4) Letters on the Old and New Testament, and on the Doctrine +and Principles held in common by the Fathers and Founders of the +Reformation, addressed to a candidate for Holy Orders, including +advice on the Plan and Subjects of Preaching, proper to a Minister of +the Established Church. + +To the completion of these four works, I have literally nothing more +to do than to _transcribe_; but, as I before hinted, from so many +scraps and _sibylline_ leaves, including margins of books and blank +pages, that, unfortunately, I must be my own scribe, and not done by +myself, they will be all but lost; or perhaps (as has been too often +the case already) furnish feathers for the caps of others; some for +this purpose, and some to plume the arrows of detraction, to be let +fly against the luckless bird from whom they had been plucked or +moulted. + +In addition to these--of my GREAT WORK, to the preparation of which +more than twenty years of my life have been devoted, and on which +my hopes of extensive and permanent utility, of fame, in the noblest +sense of the word, mainly rest--that, by which I might, + + As now by thee, by all the good be known, + When this weak frame lies moulder'd in the grave, + Which self-surviving I might call my own, + Which folly cannot mar, nor hate deprave-- + The incense of those powers, which, risen in flame, + Might make me dear to Him from whom they came. + +Of this work, to which all my other writings (unless I except my +Poems, and these I can exclude in part only) are introductory and +preparative; and the result of which (if the premises be, as I, with +the most tranquil assurance, am convinced they are--insubvertible, +the deductions legitimate, and the conclusions commensurate, and only +commensurate, with both) must finally be a revolution of all that has +been called _philosophy_ or metaphysics in England and France, since +the era of the commencing predominance of the mechanical system at +the restoration of our second Charles, and with this the present +fashionable views, not only of religion, morals, and politics but +even of the modern physics and physiology. You will not blame the +earnestness of my expressions, nor the high importance which I attach +to this work: for how, with less noble objects, and less faith in +their attainment, could I stand acquitted of folly, and abuse of time, +talents, and learning in a labour of three-fourths of my intellectual +life? Of this work, something more than a volume has been dictated +by me, so as to exist fit for the press, to my friend and enlightened +pupil, Mr. Green; and more than as much again would have been evolved +and delivered to paper, but that, for the last six or eight months, +I have been compelled to break off our weekly meeting, from the +necessity of writing (alas! alas! of attempting to write) for +purposes, and on the subjects, of the passing day. Of my poetic works +I would fain finish the _Christabel_! Alas! for the proud time when I +planned, when I had present to my mind, the materials, as well as +the scheme, of the Hymns entitled _Spirit_, _Sun_, _Earth_, _Air_, +_Water_, _Fire_ and _Man_; and the Epic Poem on what still appears +to me the one only fit subject remaining for an epic poem--Jerusalem +besieged and destroyed by Titus. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Reminiscences_ + + +4 March, 1822. + +My Dearest Friend, + +I have been much more than ordinarily unwell for more than a week +past--my sleeps worse than my vigils, my nights than my days; + + --The night's dismay + Sadden'd and stunned the intervening day; + +but last night I had not only a calmer night, without roaming in my +dreams through any of Swedenborg's Hells _modérés_; but arose this +morning lighter and with a sense of _relief_.... + +I shall make you smile, as I did dear Mary Lamb, when I say that you +sometimes mistake my position. As individual to individual, from +my childhood, I do not remember feeling myself either superior or +inferior to any human being; except by an act of my own will in cases +of real or imagined moral or intellectual superiority. In regard to +worldly rank, from eight years old to nineteen, I was habituated, +nay, naturalised, to look up to men circumstanced as you are, as my +superiors--a large number of our governors, and almost _all_ of those +whom we regarded as greater men still, and whom we saw most of, _viz._ +our committee governors, were such--and as neither awake nor asleep +have I any other feelings than what I had at Christ's Hospital, +I distinctly remember that I felt a little flush of pride and +consequence--just like what we used to feel at school when the boys +came running to us--'Coleridge! here's your friends want you--they are +quite _grand_,' or 'It is quite a _lady_'--when I first heard who you +were, and laughed at myself for it with that pleasurable sensation +that, spite of my sufferings at that school, still accompanies any +sudden reawakening of our school-boy feelings and notions. And oh, +from sixteen to nineteen what hours of Paradise had Allen and I in +escorting the Miss Evanses home on a Saturday, who were then at a +milliner's whom we used to think, and who I believe really was, such +a nice lady;--and we used to carry thither, of a summer morning, the +pillage of the flower gardens within six miles of town, with Sonnet +or Love Rhyme wrapped round the nose-gay. To be feminine, kind, and +genteelly (what I should now call neatly) dressed, these were the only +things to which my head, heart, or imagination had any polarity, and +what I was then, I still am. + +God bless you and yours. + + + + +ROBERT SOUTHEY + +1774-1843 + + + +TO JOSEPH COTTLE + +_Question of copyrights_ + + +Greta Hall, 20 _April_, 1808. + +My dear Cottle,... + +What you say of my copyrights affected me very much. Dear Cottle, set +your heart at rest on that subject. It ought to be at rest. These were +yours, fairly bought, and fairly sold. You bought them on the chance +of their success, which no London bookseller would have done; and had +they not been bought, they could not have been published at all. Nay, +if you had not purchased _Joan of Arc_, the poem never would have +existed, nor should I, in all probability, ever have obtained that +reputation which is the capital on which I subsist, nor that power +which enables me to support it. + +But this is not all. Do you suppose, Cottle, that I have forgotten +those true and most essential acts of friendship which you showed me +when I stood most in need of them? Your house was my house when I had +no other. The very money with which I bought my wedding-ring, and paid +my marriage fees, was supplied by you. It was with your sisters I left +Edith during my six months' absence, and for the six months after my +return it was from you that I received, week by week, the little on +which we lived, till I was enabled to live by other means. It is not +the settling of a cash account that can cancel obligations like these. +You are in the habit of preserving your letters, and if you were +not, I would entreat you to preserve _this_, that it might be seen +hereafter. Sure I am, there never was a more generous or a kinder +heart than yours; and you will believe me when I add, that there does +not live that man upon earth, whom I remember with more gratitude +and more affection. My heart throbs and my eyes burn with these +recollections. Good night! my dear old friend and benefactor. + + + +TO JOHN MAY + +_Waterloo_ + + +Liège, 6 _Oct._ 1815. Six p.m. + +My dear friend, + +I have a happy habit of making the best of all things; and being just +at this time as uncomfortable as the dust and bustle, and all the +disagreeables of an inn in a large filthy manufacturing city can make +me, I have called for pen, ink, and paper, and am actually writing in +the bar, the door open to the yard opposite to this unwiped table, the +doors open to the public room, where two men are dining, and talking +French, and a woman servant at my elbow is lighting a fire for our +party. Presently the folding-doors are to be shut, the ladies are to +descend from their chambers, the bar will be kept appropriated to our +house, the male part of the company will get into good humour, dinner +will be ready, and then I must lay aside the grey goose-quill. As a +preliminary to these promised comforts, the servant is mopping the +hearth, which is composed (like a tesselated pavement) of little +bricks about two inches long by half an inch wide, set within a broad +black stone frame. The fuel is of fire-balls, a mixture of pulverized +coal and clay. I have seen a great deal and heard a great deal,--more, +indeed, than I can keep pace with in my journal, though I strive hard +to do it; but I minute down short notes in my pencil-book with all +possible care, and hope, in the end, to lose nothing.... + +Flanders is a most interesting country. Bruges, the most striking city +I have ever seen, an old city in perfect preservation. It seems as if +not a house had been built during the last two centuries, and not a +house suffered to pass to decay. The poorest people seem to be well +lodged, and there is a general air of sufficiency, cleanliness, +industry, and comfort, which I have never seen in any other place. The +cities have grown worse as we advanced. At Namur we reached a dirty +city, situated in a romantic country; the Meuse there reminded me of +the Thames from your delightful house, an island in size and shape +resembling that upon which I have often wished for a grove of poplars, +coming just in the same position. From thence along the river to this +abominable place, the country is, for the greater part, as lovely as +can be imagined.... + +Our weather hitherto has been delightful. This was especially +fortunate at Waterloo and at Ligny, where we had much ground to walk +over. It would surprise you to see how soon nature has recovered from +the injuries of war. The ground is ploughed and sown, and grain and +flowers and seeds already growing over the field of battle, which is +still strewn with vestiges of the slaughter, caps, cartridges, boxes, +hats, &c. We picked up some French cards and some bullets, and we +purchased a French pistol and two of the eagles which the infantry +wear upon their caps. What I felt upon this ground, it would be +difficult to say; what I saw, and still more what I heard, there is no +time at present for saying. In prose and in verse you shall some day +hear the whole. At Les Quatre Bras, I saw two graves, which probably +the dogs or the swine had opened. In the one were the ribs of a human +body, projecting through the mould; in the other, the whole skeleton +exposed. Some of our party told me of a third, in which the worms were +at work, but I shrunk from the sight. You will rejoice to hear that +the English are as well spoken of for their deportment in peace as in +war. It is far otherwise with the Prussians. Concerning them there is +but one opinion; their brutality is said to exceed that of the French, +and of their intolerable insolence I have heard but too many proofs. +That abominable old Frederic made them a military nation, and this is +the inevitable consequence. This very day we passed a party on their +way towards France--some hundred or two. Two gentlemen and two ladies +of the country, in a carriage, had come up with them; and these +ruffians would not allow them to pass, but compelled them to wait and +follow the slow pace of foot soldiers! This we ourselves saw. Next to +the English, the Belgians have the best character for discipline.... + +I bought at Bruges a French History of Brazil, just published by M. +Alphonse de Beauchamp, in 3 vols. 8vo. He says, in his Preface, that +having finished the first two volumes, he thought it advisable to see +if any new light had been thrown upon the subject by modern authors. +Meantime, a compilation upon this history had appeared in England, +but the English author, Mr. Southey, had brought no new lights; he had +promised much for his second volume, but the hope of literary Europe +had been again deceived, for this second volume, so emphatically +promised, had not appeared. I dare say no person regrets this delay +so much as M. Beauchamp, he having stolen the whole of his two first +volumes, and about the third part of the other, from the very Mr. +Southey whom he abuses. He has copied my references as the list of his +own authorities (MSS. and all), and he has committed blunders which +prove, beyond all doubt, that he does not understand Portuguese. I +have been much diverted by this fellow's impudence. + +The table is laid, and the knives and forks rattling a pleasant note +of preparation, as the woman waiter arranges them. + +God bless you! I have hurried through the sheet, and thus pleasantly +beguiled what would have been a very unpleasant hour. We are all well, +and your god-daughter has seen a live emperor at Brussels. I feel the +disadvantage of speaking French ill, and understanding it by the ear +worse. Nevertheless, I speak it without remorse, make myself somehow +or other understood, and get at what I want to know. Once more, God +bless you, my dear friend. + + + +To HENRY TAYLOR + +_Anastasius Hope_ + + +Keswick, 15 _July_, 1831. + +... Have you seen the strange book which Anastasius Hope left +for publication, and which his representatives, in spite of all +dissuasion, have published? His notion of immortality and heaven is, +that at the consummation of all things he, and you, and I, and John +Murray, and Nebuchadnezzar, and Lambert the fat man, and the living +skeleton, and Queen Elizabeth, and the Hottentot Venus, and Thurtell, +and Probert, and the twelve Apostles, and the noble army of martyrs, +and Genghis Khan, and all his armies, and Noah with all his ancestors +and all his posterity--yea, all men and all women, and all children +that have ever been or ever shall be, saints and sinners alike--are +all to be put together, and made into one great celestial eternal +human being. He does not seem to have known how nearly this approaches +to Swedenborg's fancy. I do not like the scheme. I don't like the +notion of being mixed up with Hume, and Hunt, and Whittle Harvey, and +Philpotts, and Lord Althorpe, and the Huns, and the Hottentots, and +the Jews, and the Philistines, and the Scotch, and the Irish. God +forbid! I hope to be I myself; I, in an English heaven, with you +yourself--you, and some others, without whom heaven would be no heaven +to me. God bless you! + + + +TO EDWARD MOXON + +_Recollections of the Lambs_ + + +Keswick, 2 _Feb._ 1836. + +My dear sir, + +I have been too closely engaged in clearing off the second volume of +Cowper to reply to your inquiries concerning poor Lamb sooner. His +acquaintance with Coleridge began at Christ's Hospital; Lamb was +some two years, I think, his junior. Whether he was ever one of the +_Grecians_ there, might be ascertained, I suppose, by inquiring. My +own impression is, that he was not. Coleridge introduced me to him +in the winter of 1794-5, and to George Dyer also, from whom, if his +memory has not failed, you might probably learn more of Lamb's early +history than from any other person. Lloyd, Wordsworth, and Hazlitt +became known to him through their connexion with Coleridge. + +When I saw the family (one evening only, and at that time), they were +lodging somewhere near Lincoln's Inn, on the western side (I forget +the street), and were evidently in uncomfortable circumstances. The +father and mother were both living; and I have some dim recollection +of the latter's invalid appearance. The father's senses had failed him +before that time. He published some poems in quarto. Lamb showed me +once an imperfect copy: the _Sparrow's Wedding_ was the title of the +longest piece, and this was the author's favourite; he liked, in his +dotage, to hear Charles read it. + +His most familiar friend, when I first saw him, was White, who held +some office at Christ's Hospital, and continued intimate with him as +long as he lived. You know what Elia says of him. He and Lamb were +joint authors of the _Original Letters of Falstaff_. Lamb, I believe, +first appeared as an author in the second edition of Coleridge's +_Poems_ (Bristol, 1797), and, secondly, in the little volume of blank +verse with Lloyd (1798). Lamb, Lloyd, and White were inseparable in +1798; the two latter at one time lodged together, though no two men +could be imagined more unlike each other. Lloyd had no drollery in his +nature; White seemed to have nothing else. You will easily understand +how Lamb could sympathize with both. + +Lloyd, who used to form sudden friendships, was all but a stranger +to me, when unexpectedly he brought Lamb down to visit me at a little +village (Burton) near Christchurch, in Hampshire, where I was lodging +in a very humble cottage. This was in the summer of 1797, and then, or +in the following year, my correspondence with Lamb began. I saw more +of him in 1802 than at any other time, for I was then six months +resident in London. His visit to this county was before I came to it; +it must have been either in that or in the following year: it was to +Lloyd and to Coleridge. + +I had forgotten one of his schoolfellows, who is still living--C.V. +Le Grice, a clergyman at or near Penzance. From him you might learn +something of his boyhood. + +Cottle has a good likeness of Lamb, in chalk, taken by an artist named +Robert Hancock, about the year 1798. It looks older than Lamb was at +that time; but he was old-looking. + +Coleridge introduced him to Godwin, shortly after the first number +of the _Anti-Jacobin Magazine and Review_ was published, with a +caricature of Gillray's, in which Coleridge and I were introduced with +asses' heads, and Lloyd and Lamb as toad and frog. Lamb got warmed +with whatever was on the table, became disputatious, and said things +to Godwin which made him quietly say, 'Pray, Mr. Lamb, are you toad +or frog?' Mrs. Coleridge will remember the scene, which was to her +sufficiently uncomfortable. But the next morning S.T.C. called on +Lamb, and found Godwin breakfasting with him, from which time their +intimacy began. + +His angry letter to me in the _Magazine_ arose out of a notion that +an expression of mine in the _Quarterly Review_ would hurt the sale of +_Elia_; some one, no doubt, had said that it would. I meant to serve +the book, and very well remember how the offence happened. I had +written that it wanted nothing to render it altogether delightful but +a _saner_ religious feeling. _This_ would have been the proper word if +any other person had written the book. Feeling its extreme unfitness +as soon as it was written, I altered it immediately for the first word +which came into my head, intending to remodel the sentence when it +should come to me in the proof; and that proof never came. There can +be no objection to your printing all that passed upon the occasion, +beginning with the passage in the _Quarterly Review_, and giving his +letter. + +I have heard Coleridge say that, in a fit of derangement, Lamb fancied +himself to be young Norval. He told me this in relation to one of his +poems. + +If you will print my lines to him upon his _Album Verses_, I will +send you a corrected copy. You received his letters, I trust, which +Cuthbert took with him to town in October. I wish they had been more, +and wish, also, that I had more to tell you concerning him, and what +I have told were of more value. But it is from such fragments of +recollection, and such imperfect notices, that the materials for +biography must, for the most part, be collected. + + + + +=CHARLES LAMB= + +1775-1834 + + + +TO SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE + +_Temporary frenzy_ + + +27 _May_, 1796. + +... Coleridge! I know not what suffering scenes you have gone through +at Bristol. My life has been somewhat diversified of late. The six +weeks that finished last year and began this, your very humble servant +spent very agreeably in a madhouse, at Hoxton. I am got somewhat +rational now, and don't bite anyone. But mad I was! And many a vagary +my imagination played with me, enough to make a volume, if all were +told. My sonnets I have extended to the number of nine since I saw +you, and will some day communicate to you. I am beginning a poem +in blank verse, which, if I finish, I publish.... Coleridge! it may +convince you of my regards for you when I tell you my head ran on you +in my madness, as much almost as on another person, who I am inclined +to think was the more immediate cause of my temporary frenzy. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A friend in need_ + + +_Thursday, 11 June_, 1796. + +... After all, you cannot, nor ever will, write anything with which I +shall be so delighted as what I have heard yourself repeat. You came +to town, and I saw you at a time when your heart was yet bleeding +with recent wounds. Like yourself, I was sore galled with disappointed +hope. You had + + --many an holy lay + That, mourning, soothed the mourner on his way; + +I had ears of sympathy to drink them in, and they yet vibrate pleasant +on the sense. When I read in your little volume your nineteenth +effusion, or the twenty-eighth or twenty-ninth, or what you call the +_Sigh_, I think I hear _you_ again. I image to myself the little smoky +room at the _Salutation and Cat_, where we have sat together through +the winter nights, beguiling the cares of life with Poesy. When you +left London, I felt a dismal void in my heart. I found myself cut off, +at one and the same time, from two most dear to me. 'How blest with +ye the path could I have trod of quiet life!' In your conversation you +had blended so many pleasant fancies that they cheated me of my grief. +But in your absence the tide of melancholy rushed in again, and did +its worst mischief by overwhelming my reason. I have recovered, but +feel a stupor that makes me indifferent to the hopes and fears of +this life. I sometimes wish to introduce a religious turn of mind, +but habits are strong things, and my religious fervours are confined, +alas! to some fleeting moments of occasional solitary devotion. A +correspondence, opening with you, has roused me a little from my +lethargy, and made me conscious of existence. Indulge me in it: I will +not be very troublesome! At some future time I will amuse you with +an account, as full as my memory will permit, of the strange turn my +frenzy took. I look back upon it at times with a gloomy kind of envy: +for, while it lasted, I had many, many hours of pure happiness. Dream +not, Coleridge, of having tasted all the grandeur and wildness of +fancy till you have gone mad! All now seems to me vapid, comparatively +so. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The tragedy_ + + +27 _Sept_. 1796. + +MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +White, or some of my friends, or the public papers, by this time may +have informed you of the terrible calamities that have fallen on +our family. I will only give you the outlines: My poor dear, dearest +sister, in a fit of insanity, has been the death of our own mother. I +was at hand only time enough to snatch the knife out of her grasp. She +is at present in a madhouse, from whence I fear she must be moved to +an hospital. God has preserved to me my senses; I eat, and drink, and +sleep, and have my judgement, I believe, very sound. My poor father +was slightly wounded, and I am left to take care of him and my aunt. +Mr. Norris, of the Bluecoat School, has been very kind to us, and we +have no other friend; but, thank God, I am very calm and composed, and +able to do the best that remains to do. Write as religious a letter as +possible, but no mention of what is gone and done with. With me 'the +former things are passed away', and I have something more to do than +to feel. + +God Almighty have us in His keeping! + +Mention nothing of poetry. I have destroyed every vestige of past +vanities of that kind. Do as you please, but if you publish, publish +mine (I give free leave) without name or initial, and never send me a +book, I charge you. + +Your own judgement will convince you not to take any notice of this +yet to your dear wife. You look after your family; I have reason +and strength left to take care of mine. I charge you, don't think of +coming to see me. Write. I will not see you if you come. God Almighty +love you and all of us! + + + +TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + +_The delights of London_ + + +30 _Jan_. 1801. + +I ought before this to have replied to your very kind invitation into +Cumberland. With you and your sister I could gang anywhere; but I am +afraid whether I shall ever be able to afford so desperate a journey. +Separate from the pleasure of your company, I don't much care if I +never see a mountain in my life. I have passed all my days in London, +until I have formed as many and intense local attachments as any of +you mountaineers can have done with dead Nature. The lighted shops of +the Strand and Fleet Street; the innumerable trades, tradesmen, and +customers, coaches, waggons, playhouses; all the bustle and wickedness +round about Covent Garden; the very women of the Town; the watchmen, +drunken scenes, rattles;--life awake, if you awake, at all hours of +the night; the crowds, the very dirt and mud, the sun shining upon +houses and pavements, the printshops, the old book-stalls, parsons +cheapening books, coffee-houses, steams of soups from kitchens, the +pantomimes--London itself a pantomime and a masquerade--all these +things work themselves into my mind, and feed me, without a power +of satiating me. The wonder of these sights impels me often into +night-walks about her crowded streets, and I often shed tears in the +motley Strand from fullness of joy at so much life. All these +emotions must be strange to you; so are your rural emotions to me. But +consider, what must I have been doing all my life, not to have lent +great portions of my heart with usury to such scenes? + +My attachments are all local, purely local. I have no passion (or have +had none since I was in love, and then it was the spurious engendering +of poetry and books) to groves and valleys. The rooms where I was +born, the furniture which has been before my eyes all my life, a +book-case which has followed me about like a faithful dog, (only +exceeding him in knowledge,) wherever I have moved, old chairs, +old tables, streets, squares, where I have sunned myself, my old +school,--these are my mistresses,--have I not enough, without your +mountains? I do not envy you. I should pity you, did I not know that +the mind will make friends of anything. Your sun, and moon, and skies, +and hills, and lakes, affect me no more, or scarcely come to me in +more venerable characters, than as a gilded room with tapestry and +tapers, where I might live with handsome visible objects. I consider +the clouds above me but as a roof beautifully painted, but unable to +satisfy the mind: and at last, like the pictures of the apartment of +a connoisseur, unable to afford him any longer a pleasure. So fading +upon me, from disuse, have been the beauties of Nature, as they have +been confinedly called; so ever fresh, and green, and warm are all the +inventions of men, and assemblies of men in this great city. I should +certainly have laughed with dear Joanna. + +Give my kindest love, and my sister's, to D. and yourself; and a kiss +from me to little Barbara Lewthwaite. Thank you for liking my play! + + + +TO THOMAS MANNING + +_At the Lakes_ + + +London, 24 _Sept_. 1802. + +My dear Manning, + +Since the date of my last letter I have been a traveller. A strong +desire seized me of visiting remote regions. My first impulse was to +go and see Paris. It was a trivial objection to my aspiring mind, that +I did not understand a word of the language, since I certainly intend +some time in my life to see Paris, and equally certainly intend never +to learn the language; therefore that could be no objection. However, +I am very glad I did not go, because you had left Paris (I see) before +I could have set out. I believe Stoddart promising to go with me +another year prevented that plan. My next scheme (for to my restless, +ambitious mind London was become a bed of thorns) was to visit the +far-famed peak in Derbyshire, where the Devil sits, they say, without +breeches. _This_ my purer mind rejected as indelicate. And my final +resolve was a tour to the Lakes. I set out with Mary to Keswick, +without giving Coleridge any notice, for my time, being precious, did +not admit of it. He received us with all the hospitality in the world, +and gave up his time to show us all the wonders of the country. He +dwells upon a small hill by the side of Keswick, in a comfortable +house, quite enveloped on all sides by a net of mountains: great +floundering bears and monsters they seemed, all couchant and asleep. +We got in in the evening, travelling in a post-chaise from Penrith, in +the midst of a gorgeous sunshine, which transmuted all the mountains +into colours, purple, &c., &c. We thought we had got into fairy-land. +But that went off (as it never came again; while we stayed we had no +more fine sunsets); and we entered Coleridge's comfortable study just +in the dusk, when the mountains were all dark with clouds upon their +heads. Such an impression I never received from objects of sight +before, nor do I suppose I can ever again. Glorious creatures, fine +old fellows, Skiddaw, &c. I shall never forget ye, how ye lay about +that night, like an intrenchment; gone to bed, as it seemed for the +night, but promising that ye were to be seen in the morning. Coleridge +had got a blazing fire in his study; which is a large, antique, +ill-shaped room, with an old-fashioned organ, never played upon, big +enough for a church, shelves of scattered folios, an Aeolian harp, and +an old sofa, half bed, &c. And all looking out upon the last fading +view of Skiddaw, and his broad-breasted brethren: what a night! Here +we stayed three full weeks, in which time I visited Wordsworth's +cottage, where we stayed a day or two with the Clarksons (good people, +and most hospitable, at whose house we tarried one day and night), and +saw Lloyd. The Wordsworths were gone to Calais. They have since been +in London, and passed much time with us: he is now gone into Yorkshire +to be married. So we have seen Keswick, Grasmere, Ambleside, Ulswater +(where the Clarksons live), and a place at the other end of Ulswater; +I forget the name; to which we travelled on a very sultry day, over +the middle of Helvellyn. We have clambered up to the top of Skiddaw, +and I have waded up the bed of Lodore. In fine, I have satisfied +myself that there is such a thing as that which tourists call +_romantic_, which I very much suspected before: they make such a +spluttering about it, and toss their splendid epithets around them, +till they give as dim a light as at four o'clock next morning the +lamps do after an illumination. Mary was excessively tired when she +got about half-way up Skiddaw, but we came to a cold rill (than which +nothing can be imagined more cold, running over cold stones), and with +the reinforcement of a draught of cold water, she surmounted it most +manfully. Oh, its fine black head, and the bleak air atop of it, with +a prospect of mountains all about and about, making you giddy; and +then Scotland afar off, and the border countries so famous in song and +ballad! It was a day that will stand out, like a mountain, I am sure, +in my life. But I am returned (I have now been come home near three +weeks; I was a month out), and you cannot conceive the degradation +I felt at first, from being accustomed to wander free as air among +mountains, and bathe in rivers without being controlled by any one, to +come home and _work_. I felt very _little_. I had been dreaming I was +a very great man. But that is going off, and I find I shall conform +in time to that state of life to which it has pleased God to call me. +Besides, after all, Fleet Street and the Strand are better places to +live in for good and all than amidst Skiddaw. Still, I turn back to +those great places where I wandered about, participating in their +greatness. After all, I could not _live_ in Skiddaw. I could spend +a year, two, three years among them, but I must have a prospect of +seeing Fleet Street at the end of that time, or I should mope and pine +away, I know. Still, Skiddaw is a fine creature. + +My habits are changing, I think, i.e. from drunk to sober. Whether +I shall be happier or not remains to be proved. I shall certainly be +more happy in a morning; but whether I shall not sacrifice the +fat, and the marrow, and the kidneys, i.e. the night, glorious, +care-drowning night, that heals all our wrongs, pours wine into our +mortifications, changes the scene from indifferent and flat to bright +and brilliant!--O Manning, if I should have formed a diabolical +resolution, by the time you come to England, of not admitting any +spirituous liquors into my house, will you be my guest on such +shame-worthy terms? Is life, with such limitations, worth trying? The +truth is, that my liquors bring a nest of friendly harpies about +my house, who consume me. This is a pitiful tale to be read at St. +Gothard, but it is just now nearest my heart. Fenwick is a ruined man. +He is hiding himself from his creditors, and has sent his wife and +children into the country. Fell, my other drunken companion (that has +been: _nam hic caestus artemque repono_), is turned editor of a Naval +Chronicle. Godwin continues a steady friend, though the same facility +does not remain of visiting him often. X. has detached Marshall from +his house; Marshall, the man who went to sleep when the _Ancient +Mariner_ was reading; the old, steady, unalterable friend of the +Professor. Holcraft is not yet come to town. I expect to see him, and +will deliver your message. Things come crowding in to say, and no +room for 'em. Some things are too little to be told, i.e. to have a +preference; some are too big and circumstantial. Thanks for yours, +which was most delicious. Would I had been with you, benighted, &c.! +I fear my head is turned with wandering. I shall never be the same +acquiescent being. Farewell. Write again quickly, for I shall not +like to hazard a letter, not knowing where the fates have carried you. +Farewell, my dear fellow. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Dissuasion from Tartary_ + + +19 _Feb_. 1803. + +MY DEAR MANNING, + +The general scope of your letter afforded no indications of insanity, +but some particular points raised a scruple. For God's sake don't +think any more of 'Independent Tartary'. What are you to do among such +Ethiopians? Is there no _lineal descendant_ of Prester John? Is the +chair empty? Is the sword unswayed?--depend upon it they'll never +make you their king, as long as any branch of that great stock +is remaining. I tremble for your Christianity.... Read Sir John +Mandeville's Travels to cure you, or come over to England. There is +a Tartar-man now exhibiting at Exeter Change. Come and talk with him, +and hear what he says first. Indeed, he is no very favourable specimen +of his countrymen! But perhaps the best thing you can do, is to _try_ +to get the idea out of your head. For this purpose repeat to yourself +every night, after you have said your prayers, the words, Independent +Tartary, Independent Tartary, two or three times, and associate with +them the _idea_ of _oblivion_ ('tis Hartley's method with obstinate +memories), or say, Independent, Independent, have I not already got +an _independence_? That was a clever way of the old Puritans, +pun-divinity. My dear friend, think what a sad pity it would be to +bury such _parts_ in heathen countries, among nasty, unconversable, +horse-belching, Tartar-people! Some say they are Cannibals; and then, +conceive a Tartar-fellow _eating_ my friend, and adding the _cool +malignity_ of mustard and vinegar! I am afraid 'tis the reading of +Chaucer has misled you; his foolish stories about Cambuscan, and the +ring, and the horse of brass. Believe me, there are no such things, +'tis all the poet's _invention_; but if there were such darling things +as old Chaucer sings, I would _up_ behind you on the horse of brass, +and frisk off for Prester John's country. But these are all tales; +a horse of brass never flew, and a king's daughter never talked with +birds! The Tartars, really, are a cold, insipid, smouchy set. You'll +be sadly moped (if you are not eaten) among them. Pray _try_ and cure +yourself. Take hellebore (the counsel is Horace's, 'twas none of my +thought _originally_). Shave yourself oftener. Eat no saffron, for +saffron-eaters contract a terrible Tartar-like yellow. Pray, to avoid +the fiend. Eat nothing that gives the heart-burn. _Shave the upper_ +_lip_. Go about like an European. Read no books of voyages (they are +nothing but lies), only now and then a romance, to keep the fancy +_under_. Above all, don't go to any sights of _wild beasts. That +has been your ruin_. Accustom yourself to write familiar letters, on +common subjects, to your friends in England, such as are of a moderate +understanding. And think about common things more.... I supped last +night with Rickman, and met a merry _natural_ captain, who pleases +himself vastly with once having made a pun at Otaheite in the O. +language. 'Tis the same man who said Shakespeare he liked, because +he was so _much of the gentleman_. Rickman is a man 'absolute in all +numbers'. I think I may one day bring you acquainted, if you do not +go to Tartary first; for you'll never come back. Have a care, my dear +friend, of Anthropophagi! their stomachs are always craving. 'Tis +terrible to be weighed out at five pence a-pound. To sit at table (the +reverse of fishes in Holland), not as a guest, but as a meat. + +God bless you: do come to England. Air and exercise may do great +things. Talk with some minister. Why not your father? + +God dispose all for the best. I have discharged my duty. + + + +To MRS. WORDSWORTH + +_Friends' importunities_ + + +East India House, 18 _Feb_. 1818. + +MY DEAR MRS. WORDSWORTH, + +I have repeatedly taken pen in hand to answer your kind letter. My +sister should more properly have done it, but she having failed, I +consider myself answerable for her debts. I am now trying to do it +in the midst of commercial noises, and with a quill which seems more +ready to glide into arithmetical figures and names of gourds, cassia, +cardemoms, aloes, ginger, or tea, than into kindly responses and +friendly recollections. The reason why I cannot write letters at home, +is, that I am never alone. Plato's--(I write to W.W. now)--Plato's +double-animal parted never longed more to be reciprocally re-united in +the system of its first creation, than I sometimes do to be but for +a moment single and separate. Except my morning's walk to the office, +which is like treading on sands of gold for that reason, I am never +so. I cannot walk home from office but some officious friend offers +his unwelcome courtesies to accompany me. All the morning I am +pestered. I could sit and gravely cast up sums in great books, or +compare sum with sum, and write 'paid' against this, and 'unpaid' +against t'other, and yet reserve in some corner of my mind 'some +darling thoughts all my own',--faint memory of some passage in a book, +or the tone of an absent friend's voice--a snatch of Miss Burrell's +singing, or a gleam of Fanny Kelly's divine plain face. The two +operations might be going on at the same time without thwarting, as +the sun's two motions (earth's, I mean), or, as I sometimes turn +round till I am giddy, in my back parlour, while my sister is walking +longitudinally in the front; or, as the shoulder of veal twists round +with the spit, while the smoke wreathes up the chimney. But there are +a set of amateurs of the Belles Lettres--the gay science--who come to +me as a sort of rendezvous, putting questions of criticism, of British +Institutions, Lalla Rookhs, &c.--what Coleridge said at the lecture +last night--who have the form of reading men, but, for any possible +use reading can be to them, but to talk of, might as well have been +Ante-Cadmeans born, or have lain sucking out the sense of an Egyptian +hieroglyph as long as the pyramids will last, before they should +find it. These pests worrit me at business, and in all its intervals, +perplexing my accounts, poisoning my little salutary warming-time at +the fire, puzzling my paragraphs if I take a newspaper, cramming in +between my own free thoughts and a column of figures, which had come +to an amicable compromise but for them. Their noise ended, one of +them, as I said, accompanies me home, lest I should be solitary for +a moment; he at length takes his welcome leave at the door; up I go, +mutton on table, hungry as hunter, hope to forget my cares, and bury +them in the agreeable abstraction of mastication; knock at the door, +in comes Mr. ----, or Mr. ----, or Demi-gorgon, or my brother, or +somebody, to prevent my eating alone--a process absolutely +necessary to my poor wretched digestion. O, the pleasure of eating +alone!--eating my dinner alone! let me think of it. But in they +come, and make it absolutely necessary that I should open a bottle of +orange--for my meat turns into stone when anyone dines with me, if I +have not wine. Wine can mollify stones; then _that_ wine turns into +acidity, acerbity, misanthropy, a hatred of my interrupters--(God +bless 'em! I love some of 'em dearly), and with the hatred, a still +greater aversion to their going away. Bad is the dead sea they bring +upon me, choking and deadening, but worse is the deader dry sand they +leave me on, if they go before bed-time. Come never, I would say to +these spoilers of my dinner; but if you come, never go! The fact is, +this interruption does not happen very often; but every time it comes +by surprise, that present bane of my life, orange wine, with all its +dreary stifling consequences, follows. Evening company I should always +like had I any mornings, but I am saturated with human faces (_divine_ +forsooth!) and voices all the golden morning; and five evenings in a +week would be as much as I should covet to be in company, but I +assure you that is a wonderful week in which I can get two, or one, to +myself. I am never C.L., but always C.L. & Co. He who thought it +not good for man to be alone, preserve me from the more prodigious +monstrosity of being never by myself! I forget bed-time, but even +there these sociable frogs clamber up to annoy me. Once a week, +generally some singular evening that, being alone, I go to bed at the +hour I ought always to be a-bed; just close to my bed-room window is +the club-room of a public-house, where a set of singers, I take them +to be chorus singers of the two theatres (it must be _both of them_), +begin their orgies. They are a set of fellows (as I conceive) who, +being limited by their talents to the burthen of the song at the +play-houses, in revenge have got the common popular airs by Bishop, or +some cheap composer, arranged for choruses, that is, to be sung all in +chorus. At least, I never can catch any of the text of the plain song, +nothing but the Babylonish choral howl at the tail on't. 'That fury +being quench'd'--the howl I mean--a burden succeeds of shouts and +clapping, and knocking of the table. At length overtasked nature drops +under it, and escapes for a few hours into the society of the sweet +silent creatures of dreams, which go away with mocks and mows at +cockcrow. And then I think of the words Christabel's father used +(bless me, I have dipt in the wrong ink!) to say every morning by way +of variety when he awoke: + + Every knell, the Baron saith, + Wakes us up to a world of death-- + +or something like it. All I mean by this senseless interrupted tale, +is, that by my central situation I am a little over-companied. Not +that I have any animosity against the good creatures that are so +anxious to drive away the harpy solitude from me. I like 'em, and +cards, and a cheerful glass; but I mean merely to give you an idea +between office confinement and after-office society, how little time +I can call my own. I mean only to draw a picture, not to make an +inference. I would not that I know of have it otherwise. I only wish +sometimes I could exchange some of my faces and voices for the faces +and voices which a late visitation brought most welcome, and carried +away, leaving regret, but more pleasure, even a kind of gratitude, at +being so often favoured with that kind northern visitation. My London +faces and noises don't hear me--I mean no disrespect, or I should +explain myself, that instead of their return 220 times a year, and +the return of W.W., &c., seven times in 104 weeks, some more equal +distribution might be found. I have scarce room to put in Mary's kind +love, and my poor name ...--goes on lecturing.... I mean to hear some +of the course, but lectures are not much to my taste, whatever the +lecturer may be. If _read_, they are dismal flat, and you can't think +why you are brought together to hear a man read his works, which you +could read so much better at leisure yourself; if delivered extempore, +I am always in pain, lest the gift of utterance should suddenly fail +the orator in the middle, as it did me at the dinner given in honour +of me at the London Tavern. 'Gentlemen,' said I, and there I stopped; +the rest my feelings were under the necessity of supplying. Mrs. +Wordsworth _will_ go on, kindly haunting us with visions of seeing the +lakes once more, which never can be realised. Between us there is a +great gulf, not of inexplicable moral antipathies and distances, I +hope, as there seemed to be between me and that gentleman concerned +in the Stamp Office, that I so strangely recoiled from at Haydon's. I +think I had an instinct that he was the head of an office. I hate all +such people--accountants' deputy accountants. The dear abstract notion +of the East India Company, as long as she is unseen, is pretty, rather +poetical; but as she makes herself manifest by the persons of such +beasts, I loathe and detest her as the scarlet what-do-you-call-her +of Babylon. I thought, after abridging us of all our red-letter days, +they had done their worst; but I was deceived in the length to which +heads of offices, those true liberty-haters, can go. They are the +tyrants; not Ferdinand, nor Nero. By a decree passed this week, they +have abridged us of the immemorially-observed custom of going at one +o'clock of a Saturday, the little shadow of a holiday left us. Dear +W.W., be thankful for liberty. + + + +To SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE + +_The famous pigling_ + + +9 _March_, 1822. + +DEAR COLERIDGE, + +It gives me great satisfaction to hear that the pig turned out so +well: they are such interesting creatures at a certain age. What a +pity such buds should blow out into the maturity of rank bacon! You +had all some of the crackling and brain sauce. Did you remember to rub +it with butter, and gently dredge it a little, just before the crisis? +Did the eyes come away kindly with no Oedipean avulsion? Was the +crackling the colour of the ripe pomegranate? Had you no complement of +boiled neck of mutton before it, to blunt the edge of delicate desire? +Did you flesh maiden teeth in it? Not that _I_ sent the pig, or can +form the remotest guess what part Owen could play in the business. I +never knew him give anything away in my life. He would not begin with +strangers. I suspect the pig, after all, was meant for me; but at the +unlucky juncture of time being absent, the present somehow went round +to Highgate. To confess an honest truth, a pig is one of those things +which I could never think of sending away. Teal, widgeon, snipes, +barn-door fowls, ducks, geese--your tame villatic things--Welsh +mutton, collars of brawn, sturgeon, fresh or pickled, your potted +char, Swiss cheeses, French pies, early grapes, muscadines, I impart +as freely unto my friends as to myself. They are but self extended, +but pardon me if I stop somewhere. Where the fine feeling of +benevolence giveth a higher smack than the sensual rarity, there my +friends (or any good man) may command me; but pigs are pigs, and +I myself therein am nearest to myself. Nay, I should think it an +affront, an undervaluing done to Nature who bestowed such a boon upon +me, if in a churlish mood I parted with the precious gift. One of the +bitterest pangs of remorse I ever felt was when a child--when my kind +old aunt had strained her pocket-strings to bestow a sixpenny +whole plum-cake upon me. In my way home through the Borough I met a +venerable old man, not a mendicant, but thereabouts; a look-beggar, +not a verbal petitionist; and in the coxcombry of taught charity I +gave away the cake to him. I walked on a little in all the pride of an +Evangelical peacock, when of a sudden my old aunt's kindness crossed +me; the sum it was to her; the pleasure she had a right to expect +that I--not the old impostor--should take in eating her cake; the +ingratitude by which, under the colour of a Christian virtue, I had +frustrated her cherished purpose. I sobbed, wept, and took it to +heart so grievously, that I think I never suffered the like; and I was +right. It was a piece of unfeeling hypocrisy, and it proved a lesson +to me ever after. The cake has long been masticated, consigned to +the dunghill with the ashes of that unseasonable pauper. But when +Providence, who is better to us than all our aunts, gives me a pig, +remembering my temptation and my fall, I shall endeavour to act +towards it more in the spirit of the donor's purpose. + +Yours (short of pig) to command in every thing. + + + +To BERNARD BARTON + +_A blessing in disguise_ + + +9 _Jan_. 1823. + +'Throw yourself on the world without any rational plan of support, +beyond what the chance employ of booksellers would afford you'!!! + +Throw yourself rather, my dear sir, from the steep Tarpeian rock, +slap-dash headlong upon iron spikes. If you have but five consolatory +minutes between the desk and the bed, make much of them, and live a +century in them, rather than turn slave to the booksellers. They are +Turks and Tartars when they have poor authors at their beck. Hitherto +you have been at arm's length from them. Come not within their grasp. +I have known many authors want for bread, some repining, others +envying the blessed security of a counting-house, all agreeing they +had rather have been tailors, weavers--what not? rather than the +things they were. I have known some starved, some to go mad, one dear +friend literally dying in a workhouse. You know not what a rapacious, +dishonest set these booksellers are. Ask even Southey, who (a single +case almost) has made a fortune by book-drudgery, what he has found +them. Oh, you know not, may you never know, the miseries of subsisting +by authorship! 'Tis a pretty appendage to a situation like yours or +mine; but a slavery, worse than all slavery, to be a bookseller's +dependant, to drudge your brains for pots of ale, and breasts of +mutton, _to change your_ FREE THOUGHTS _and_ VOLUNTARY NUMBERS _for +ungracious_ TASK-WORK. Those fellows hate _us_. The reason I take to +be, that contrary to other trades, in which the master gets all the +credit (a jeweller or silversmith for instance,) and the journeyman, +who really does the fine work, is in the background: in _our_ work +the world gives all the credit to us, whom _they_ consider as _their_ +journeymen, and therefore do they hate us, and cheat us, and oppress +us, and would wring the blood of us out, to put another sixpence in +their mechanic pouches!... + +Keep to your bank, and the bank will keep you. Trust not to the +public; you may hang, starve, drown yourself, for anything that worthy +_personage_ cares. I bless every star, that Providence, not seeing +good to make me independent, has seen it next good to settle me upon +the stable foundation of Leadenhall. Sit down, good B.B., in the +banking-office: what! is there not from six to eleven p.m. six days +in the week, and is there not all Sunday? Fie, what a superfluity +of man's time, if you could think so! Enough for relaxation, mirth, +converse, poetry, good thoughts, quiet thoughts. O the corroding, +torturing, tormenting thoughts, that disturb the brain of the unlucky +wight who must draw upon it for daily sustenance! Henceforth I retract +all my fond complaints of mercantile employment; look upon them as +lover's quarrels. I was but half in earnest. Welcome dead timber +of the desk, that makes me live. A little grumbling is a wholesome +medicine for the spleen, but in my inner heart do I approve and +embrace this our close, but unharassing way of life. I am quite +serious. If you can send me Fox, I will not keep it _six weeks_, and +will return it, with warm thanks to yourself and friend, without blot +or dog's-ear. You will much oblige me by this kindness. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A cold_ + + +9 _Jan_. 1824. + +DEAR B.B., + +Do you know what it is to succumb under an insurmountable +day-mare,--'a whoreson lethargy', Falstaff calls it,--an indisposition +to do anything, or to be anything,--a total deadness and distaste,--a +suspension of vitality,--an indifference to locality,--a numb, +soporifical, good-for-nothingness,--an ossification all over,--an +oyster-like insensibility to the passing events,--a mind-stupor,--a +brawny defiance to the needles of a thrusting-in conscience? Did you +ever have a very bad cold, with a total irresolution to submit to +water-gruel processes? This has been for many weeks my lot, and my +excuse; my fingers drag heavily over this paper, and to my thinking it +is three-and-twenty furlongs from here to the end of this demi-sheet. +I have not a thing to say; no thing is of more importance than +another; I am flatter than a denial or a pancake; emptier than Judge +----'s wig when the head is in it; duller than a country stage when +the actors are off it; a cipher, an O! I acknowledge life at all, only +by an occasional convulsional cough, and a permanent phlegmatic pain +in the chest. I am weary of the world; life is weary of me. My day is +gone into twilight, and I don't think it worth the expense of candles. +My wick hath a thief in it, but I can't muster courage to snuff it. +I inhale suffocation; I can't distinguish veal from mutton; nothing +interests me. 'Tis twelve o'clock, and Thurtell is just now coming out +upon the New Drop, Jack Ketch alertly tucking up his greasy sleeves +to do the last office of mortality, yet cannot I elicit a groan or +a moral reflection. If you told me the world will be at an end +to-morrow, I should just say, 'Will it?' I have not volition enough +left to dot my _i's_, much less to comb my eyebrows; my eyes are +set in my head; my brains are gone out to see a poor relation in +Moorflelds, and they did not say when they'd come back again; my skull +is a Grub Street attic to let--not so much as a joint stool left in +it; my hand writes, not I, from habit, as chickens run about a +little, when their heads are off. O for a vigorous fit of gout, colic, +toothache,--an earwig in my auditory, a fly in my visual organs; pain +is life--the sharper, the more evidence of life; but this apathy, this +death! Did you ever have an obstinate cold,--a six or seven weeks' +unintermitting chill and suspension of hope, fear, conscience, and +every thing? Yet do I try all I can to cure it; I try wine, and +spirits, and smoking, and snuff in unsparing quantities, but they all +only seem to make me worse instead of better. I sleep in a damp room, +but it does me no good; I come home late o' nights, but do not find +any visible amendment!... + +It is just fifteen minutes after twelve; Thurtell is by this time +a good way on his journey, baiting at Scorpion perhaps; Ketch is +bargaining for his cast coat and waistcoat; the Jew demurs at first at +three half-crowns, but, on consideration that he may get somewhat by +showing 'em in the town, finally closes. + + + + +WILLIAM HAZLITT + +1778-1830 + + + +To Miss Sarah Stoddart + +_A love-letter_ + + +Tuesday night [_Jan._ 1808]. + +MY DEAR LOVE, + +Above a week has passed, and I have received no letter--not one of +those letters 'in which I live, or have no life at all'. What is +become of you? Are you married, hearing that I was dead (for so it has +been reported)? Or are you gone into a nunnery? Or are you fallen in +love with some of the amorous heroes of Boccaccio? Which of them is +it? Is it with Chynon, who was transformed from a clown into a lover, +and learned to spell by the force of beauty? Or with Lorenzo, the +lover of Isabella, whom her three brethren hated (as your brother does +me), who was a merchant's clerk? Or with Federigo Alberigi, an honest +gentleman, who ran through his fortune, and won his mistress by +cooking a fair falcon for her dinner, though it was the only means he +had left of getting a dinner for himself? This last is the man; and +I am the more persuaded of it, because I think I won your good liking +myself by giving you an entertainment--of sausages, when I had no +money to buy them with. Nay now, never deny it! Did I not ask your +consent that very night after, and did you not give it? Well, I should +be confoundedly jealous of those fine gallants, if I did not know that +a living dog is better than a dead lion; though, now I think of it, +Boccaccio does not in general make much of his lovers: it is his women +who are so delicious. I almost wish I had lived in those times, and +had been a little _more amiable_. Now if a woman had written the book, +it would not have had this effect upon me: the men would have been +heroes and angels, and the women nothing at all. Isn't there some +truth in that? Talking of departed loves, I met my old flame the other +day in the street. I did dream of her _one_ night since, and only one: +every other night I have had the same dream I have had for these two +months past. Now, if you are at all reasonable, this will satisfy you. + +_Thursday morning_. The book is come. When I saw it I thought you had +sent it back in a _huff_, tired out by my sauciness, and _coldness_, +and delays, and were going to keep an account of dimities and sayes, +or to salt pork and chronicle small beer as the dutiful wife of some +fresh-looking, rural swain; so that you cannot think how surprised +and pleased I was to find them all done. I liked your note as well or +better than the extracts; it is just such a note as such a nice rogue +as you ought to write after the _provocation_ you had received. I +would not give a pin for a girl 'whose cheeks never tingle', nor for +myself if I could not make them tingle sometimes. Now, though I am +always writing to you about 'lips and noses', and such sort of stuff, +yet as I sit by my fireside (which I do generally eight or ten hours a +day), I oftener think of you in a serious, sober light. For, indeed, +I never love you so well as when I think of sitting down with you to +dinner on a boiled scrag-end of mutton, and hot potatoes. You please +my fancy more then than when I think of you in--no, you would never +forgive me if I were to finish the sentence. Now I think of it, what +do you mean to be dressed in when we are married? But it does not much +matter! I wish you would let your hair grow; though perhaps nothing +will be better than 'the same air and look with which at first my +heart was took'. But now to business. I mean soon to call upon your +brother _in form_, namely, as soon as I get quite well, which I hope +to do in about another _fortnight_; and then I hope you will come up +by the coach as fast as the horses can carry you, for I long mightily +to be in your ladyship's presence--to vindicate my character. I think +you had better sell the small house, I mean that at 4.10, and I will +borrow £100. So that we shall set off merrily in spite of all the +prudence of Edinburgh. Goodbye, little dear! + + + +TO HIS SON + +_Marriage, and the choice of a profession_ + + +[1822.] + +... If you ever marry, I would wish you to marry the woman you like. +Do not be guided by the recommendations of friends. Nothing will +atone for or overcome an original distaste. It will only increase from +intimacy; and if you are to live separate, it is better not to come +together. There is no use in dragging a chain through life, unless +it binds one to the object we love. Choose a mistress from among your +equals. You will be able to understand her character better, and she +will be more likely to understand yours. Those in an inferior station +to yourself will doubt your good intentions, and misapprehend your +plainest expressions. All that you swear is to them a riddle or +downright nonsense. You cannot by any possibility translate your +thoughts into their dialect. They will be ignorant of the meaning of +half you say, and laugh at the rest. As mistresses, they will have no +sympathy with you; and as wives, you can have none with them. + +Women care nothing about poets, or philosophers, or politicians. They +go by a man's looks and manner. Richardson calls them 'an eye-judging +sex'; and I am sure he knew more about them than I can pretend to do. +If you run away with a pedantic notion that they care a pin's point +about your head or your heart, you will repent it too late.... + +If I were to name one pursuit rather than another, I should wish you +to be a good painter, if such a thing could be hoped. I have failed in +this myself, and should wish you to be able to do what I have not--to +paint like Claude, or Rembrandt, or Guido, or Vandyke, if it were +possible. Artists, I think, who have succeeded in their chief object, +live to be old, and are agreeable old men. Their minds keep alive +to the last. Cosway's spirits never flagged till after ninety; and +Nollekens, though nearly blind, passed all his mornings in giving +directions about some group or bust in his workshop. You have seen Mr. +Northcote, that delightful specimen of the last age. With what avidity +he takes up his pencil, or lays it down again to talk of numberless +things! His eye has not lost its lustre, nor 'paled its ineffectual +fire'. His body is but a shadow: he himself is a pure spirit. There is +a kind of immortality about this sort of ideal and visionary existence +that dallies with Fate and baffles the grim monster, Death. If I +thought you could make as clever an artist, and arrive at such an +agreeable old age as Mr. Northcote, I should declare at once for your +devoting yourself to this enchanting profession; and in that reliance, +should feel less regret at some of my own disappointments, and little +anxiety on your account! + + + +To CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE + +_The Life of Napoleon_ + + +7 _Dec_. [1827]. + +DEAR SIR, + +I thought all the world agreed with me at present that Buonaparte was +better than the Bourbons, or that a tyrant was better than tyranny. +In my opinion, no one of an understanding above the rank of a lady's +waiting-maid could ever have doubted this, though I alone said it ten +years ago. It might be impolicy then and now for what I know, for the +world stick to an opinion in appearance long after they have given it +up in reality. I should like to know whether the preface is thought +impolitic by some one who agrees with me in the main point, or by some +one who differs with me and makes this excuse not to have his opinion +contradicted? In Paris (_jubes regina renovare dolorem_) the preface +was thought a masterpiece, the best and only possible defence of +Buonaparte, and quite new _there_! It would be an impertinence in me +to write a Life of Buonaparte after Sir W. without some such object as +that expressed in the preface. After all, I do not care a _damn_ about +the preface. It will get me on four pages somewhere else. Shall I +retract my opinion altogether, and forswear my own book? Rayner is +right to cry out: I think I have tipped him fair and foul copy, a lean +rabbit and a fat one. The remainder of vol. ii will be ready to go on +with, but not the beginning of the third. The appendixes had better +be at the end of the second vol. Pray get them if you can: you have my +Sieyes, have you not? One of them is there. I have been nearly in the +other world. My regret was 'to die and leave the world "rough" copy'. +Otherwise I had thought of an epitaph and a good end. Hic jacent +reliquiae mortales Gulielmi Hazlitt, auctoris non intelligibilis: +natus Maidstoniae in comi [ta] tu Cantiae, Apr. 10, 1778. Obiit +Winterslowe, Dec., 1827. I think of writing an epistle to C. Lamb, +Esq., to say that I have passed near the shadowy world, and have had +new impressions of the vanity of this, with hopes of a better. Don't +you think this would be good policy? Don't mention it to the severe +author of the '_Press_', a poem, but me thinks the idea _arridet_ +Hone. He would give sixpence to see me floating, upon a pair of +borrowed wings, half way between heaven and earth, and edifying +the good people at my departure, whom I shall only scandalize by +remaining. At present my study and contemplation is the leg of a +stewed fowl. I have behaved like a saint, and been obedient to orders. + +_Non fit pugil_, &c., I got a violent spasm by walking fifteen miles +in the mud, and getting into a coach with an old lady who would have +the window open. Delicacy, moderation, complaisance, the _suaviter in +modo_, whisper it about, my dear Clarke, these are my faults and have +been my ruin. + + + + +LEIGH HUNT + +1784-1859 + + + +To JOSEPH SEVERN + +_A belated letter_[1] + + +Vale of Health, Hampstead, 8 _March_, 1821 + +DEAR SEVERN, + +You have concluded, of course, that I have sent no letters to Rome, +because I was aware of the effect they would have on Keats's mind; and +this is the principal cause; for, besides what I have been told about +letters in Italy, I remember his telling me upon one occasion that, in +his sick moments, he never wished to receive another letter, or ever +to see another face, however friendly. But still I should have written +to you, had I not been almost at death's door myself. You will imagine +how ill I have been, when you hear that I have but just begun writing +again for the _Examiner_ and _Indicator_, after an interval of +several months, during which my flesh wasted from me with sickness +and melancholy. Judge how often I thought of Keats, and with what +feelings. Mr. Brown tells me he is comparatively calm now, or rather +quite so. If he can bear to hear of us, pray tell him; but he knows it +already, and can put it in better language than any man. I hear that +he does not like to be told that he may get better; nor is it to +be wondered at, considering his firm persuasion that he shall not +survive. He can only regard it as a puerile thing, and an insinuation +that he shall die. But if his persuasion should happen to be no longer +so strong, or if he can now put up with attempts to console him, of +what I have said a thousand times, and what I still (upon my honour) +think always, that I have seen too many instances of recovery from +apparently desperate cases of consumption not to be in hope to the +very last. If he still cannot bear this, tell him--tell that great +poet and noble-hearted man--that we shall all bear his memory in the +most precious part of our hearts, and that the world shall bow their +heads to it, as our loves do. Or if this, again, will trouble his +spirit, tell him that we shall never cease to remember and love him; +and that, Christian or infidel, the most sceptical of us has faith +enough in the high things that nature puts into our heads, to think +all who are of one accord in mind or heart are journeying to one and +the same place, and shall unite somewhere or other again, face to +face, mutually conscious, mutually delighted. Tell him he is only +before us on the road, as he is in everything else; or, whether you +tell him the latter or no, tell him the former, and add that we shall +never forget that he was so, and that we are coming after him. The +tears are again in my eyes, and I must not afford to shed them. The +next letter I write shall be more to yourself, and more refreshing to +your spirits, which we are very sensible must have been greatly taxed. +But whether your friend dies or not, it will not be among the least +lofty of your recollections by-and-by that you helped to smooth the +sick-bed of so fine a being. God bless you, dear Severn. + +[Footnote 1: Keats died in February.] + + + +To PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +_Outpourings of gratitude_ + + +Stonehouse, near Plymouth, 26 _March_, 1822. + +MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +Your letters always contain something delightful to me, whatever news +they bring. + + Surgit _amici_ aliquid, quod in ipsis _nubibus_ + _ardet_. + +But I confess your latter ones have greatly relieved me on the subject +you speak of. They only make me long, with an extreme Homeric longing, +to be at Pisa,--I mean such an one as Achilles felt when he longed to +be with his father,--sharp in his very limbs. We have secured a ship, +the _David Walter_, which will call for us here, and sets sail +from London in a fortnight. I have written by to-day's post with +intelligence of it to Mrs. Fletcher, enclosing her the letter, and +giving her the option of going on board in London, or here. I need not +say we shall attend to her comforts in every respect. The same post +also carries a letter to Mr. Gisborne, stating your wishes, and +wonders respecting _Adonais_. If it is not published before I leave +England, I will publish my criticism upon the Pisa copy,--a criticism +which I think you will like. I take the opportunity of showing the +public why Gifford's review spoke so bitterly of _Prometheus_, and +why it pretends that the most metaphysical passage of your most +metaphysical poem is a specimen of the clearness of your general +style. The wretched priest-like cunning and undertoned malignity of +that review of _Prometheus_ is indeed a homage paid to qualities which +can so provoke it. The _Quarterly_ pretends now, that it never meddles +with you personally,--of course it never did! For this, _Blackwood_ +cries out upon it, contrasting its behaviour in those delicate matters +with its own! This is better and better, and the public seem to think +so; for these things, depend upon it, are getting better understood +every day, and shall be better and better understood every day to +come. One circumstance which helps to reconcile me to having been +detained on this coast, is the opportunity it has given me to make +your works speak for themselves wherever I could; and you are in high +lustre, I assure you, with the most intelligent circles in Plymouth, +[Greek: astaer epsos]. I have, indeed, been astonished to find +how well prepared people of intelligence are to fall in with your +aspirations, and despise the mistakes and rascally instincts of your +calumniators. This place, for instance, abounds in _schoolmasters_, +who appear, to a man, to be liberal to an extreme and esoterical +degree. And such, there is reason to believe, is the case over the +greater part of the kingdom, greatly, no doubt, owing to political +causes. Think of the consequences of this with the rising generation. +I delight in _Adonais_. It is the most Delphic poetry I have seen +a long while; full of those embodyings of the most subtle and airy +imaginations,--those arrestings and explanations of the most shadowy +yearnings of our being--which are the most difficult of all things +to put into words, and the most delightful when put. I do not know +whether you are aware how fond I am of your song on the Skylark; but +you ought, if Ollier sent you a copy of the enlarged _Calendar_ +_of Nature_, which he published separately under the title of the +_Months_. I tell you this, because I have not done half or a twentieth +part of what I ought to have done to make your writings properly +appreciated. But I intended to do more every day, and now that I am +coming to you, I shall be _totus_ in you and yours! For all good, and +healthy, and industrious things, I will do such wonders, that I shall +begin to believe I make some remote approach to something like a +return for your kindness. Yet how can that be? At all events, I hope +we shall all be the better for one another's society. Marianne, poor +dear girl, is still very ailing and weak, but stronger upon the whole, +she thinks, than when she first left London, and quite prepared and +happy to set off on her spring voyage. She sends you part of her best +love. I told her I supposed I must answer Marina's letter for her, but +she is quite grand on the occasion, and vows she will do it herself, +which, I assure you, will be the first time she has written a letter +for many months. Ask Marina if she will be charitable, and write one +to me. I will undertake to answer it with one double as long. But what +am I talking about, when the captain speaks of sailing in a fortnight? +I was led astray by her delightful letter to Marianne about walks, and +duets, and violets, and ladies like violets. Am I indeed to see and +be in the midst of all these beautiful things, ladies like lilies not +excepted? And do the men in Italy really leave ladies to walk in those +very amiable dry ditches by themselves? Oh! for a few strides, like +those of Neptune, when he went from some place to some other place, +and 'did it in three!' Dear Shelley, I am glad my letter to Lord B. +pleased you, though I do not know why you should so thank me for it. +But you are ingenious in inventing claims for me upon your affection. + + + +To HORACE SMITH + +_Shelley's death_ + + +Pisa, 25 _July_, 1822. + +Dear Horace, + +I trust that the first news of the dreadful calamity which has +befallen us here will have been broken to you by report, otherwise I +shall come upon you with a most painful abruptness; but Shelley, my +divine-minded friend, your friend, the friend of the universe, he has +perished at sea. He was in a boat with his friend Captain Williams, +going from Leghorn to Lerici, when a storm arose, and it is supposed +the boat must have foundered. It was on the 8th instant, about four +or five in the evening, they guess. A fisherman says he saw the boat +a few minutes before it went down: he looked again and it was gone. He +saw the boy they had with them aloft furling one of the sails. We hope +his story is true, as their passage from life to death will then have +been short; and what adds to the hope is, that in S's pocket (for the +bodies were both thrown on shore some days afterwards,--conceive our +horrible certainty, after trying all we could to hope!) a copy of +Keats's last volume, which he had borrowed of me to read on his +passage, was found _open_ and doubled back as if it had been thrust +in, in the hurry of a surprise. God bless him! I cannot help thinking +of him as if he were alive as much as ever, so unearthly he always +appeared to me, and so seraphical a thing of the elements; and this +is what all his friends say. But what we all feel, your own heart will +tell you.... + +It has been often feared that Shelley and Captain Williams would meet +with some accident, they were so hazardous; but when they set out on +the 8th, in the morning it was fine. Our dear friend was passionately +fond of the sea, and has been heard to say he should like it to be his +death-bed.... + + + +To MRS. PROCTER + +_Accepting an invitation_ + + +5 York Buildings, 13 _March_ [1831]. + +MY DEAR MRS. PROCTER (for Madam, somehow, is + not the thing), + +I am most pleased to be reminded of my promise, which I must have made +if you say I did. I suppose I have been coming to keep it ever since; +but it is a long road from sorrow to joy, and one is apt to get +confused on the road. Do you know your letter brought the tears into +my eyes? I hardly know why, unless it was that I saw Procter had been +pouring his kind heart into yours, and you said:--'We must have him +here instead of the coffee-house, and plant him by the fire, and warm +him like a stray bird till he sings.' But indeed a kind word affects +me where many a hard thump does not. Nevertheless, you must not tell +this, except to the very masculine or feminine; though if you do not +take it as a compliment to yourself,--I mean the confession of +my weakness,--why, you are not Procter's wife, nor Mrs. Montagu's +daughter, nor she who wrote the letter this morning to a poor battered +author. + +PS. I eat any plain joint, of the plainer order, beef or mutton:--and +you know I care for nothing at dinner, so that it does not hurt me. +Friends' company is the thing. + + + +To A FRIEND + +_Offence and punishment_ + + +Wimbledon, 11 and 12 _August_, 1846. + +... I find I made a great confusion of my _portion_ of the legal +expenses incurred by the _Examiner_, with the _whole_ of them. That +portion only amounted to £750, the whole being £1500. Of this £750 out +of my pocket (which was quite enough), £250 went to pay for +expenses (counsel, &c.) attendant on the _failure_ of two Government +prosecutions,--one for saying (_totidem verbis_) that 'of all monarchs +since the Revolution, the successor of George III would have the +finest opportunity of becoming nobly popular'; (think, nowadays, +of being prosecuted for _that_!) and the other for copying from the +_Stamford News_ the paragraph against military flogging, alluded to +the other day in the _Daily News_. (Think, now, this moment, of being +prosecuted for _That_!) The £500 fine and two years' imprisonment was +for ludicrously contrasting the _Morning Post's_ picture of the Regent +as an 'Adonis', &c. with the old and real fat state of the case, and +for adding that his Royal Highness had lived for 'upwards of half +a century without doing anything to deserve the admiration of his +contemporaries or the gratitude of posterity'. Words to that effect, +and I believe better,--but I do not quite remember them. They might be +easily ascertained by reference to Peel's Coffee-house, and the words +of the _Post_, too. + +Besides the fine, my imprisonment cost me several hundred pounds (I +can't exactly say how many) in monstrous _douceurs_ to the gaoler +for _liberty to walk in the garden_, for help towards getting me +permission to fit up rooms in the sick hospital, and for fitting +up said rooms, or rather converting them from sorts of +washhouses, hitherto uninhabited and unfloored, into comfortable +apartments,--which I did too expensively,--at least as far as papering +the sitting-room with a trellis of roses went, and having my ceiling +painted to imitate an out-of-door sky. No notice, however, could +be taken, I suppose, of any of _this_ portion of the expenses, +governments having nothing to do with the secret corruptions of +gaolers or the pastorals of incarcerated poets: otherwise the +prosecutions cost me altogether a good bit beyond a thousand pounds. + +But perhaps it might be mentioned that I went to prison from all but +a sick bed, having been just ordered by the physician _to go to the +seaside_, and _ride_ for the benefit of my health (pleasing dramatic +contrast to the _verdict_!). I also declined, as I told you, to try +avoiding the imprisonment by the help of Perry's offer of the famous +secret 'Book'; and I further declined (as I think I also told you) +to avail myself of an offer on the part of a royal agent (made, of +course, in the guarded, though obvious manner in which such offers are +conveyed), to drop the prosecution, provided we would agree to +drop all future hostile mention of the Regent. But of this, too, +governments could not be expected to take notice--perhaps would regard +it as an addition to the offence. This, however, I must add, that the +whole attack on the Regent was owing, not merely to the nonsense of +the _Post_, but to his violation of those promises of conceding the +Catholic claims, to which his princely word stood pledged. The subject +of the article was the '_Dinner on St. Patrick's day_'. All the Whig +world was indignant at that violation; so were the Irish, of course, +_vehemently_; and it was on the spur of this publicly indignant +movement that I wrote what I did,--as angrily and as much in earnest +in the serious part of what I said as I was derisive in the rest. +I did not care for any factious object, nor was I what is called +anti-monarchical. I didn't know Cobbett, or Henry Hunt, or any +demagogue, _even by sight_, except Sir Francis Burdett, and him +by sight alone. Nor did I ever see, or speak a word with them, +afterwards. I knew nothing, in fact, of politics themselves, except in +some of those large and, as it appeared to me, obvious phases, which, +at all events, _have since become obvious to most people_, and in +fighting for which (if a man can be said to fight for a 'phase'!) I +suffered all that Tories could inflict upon me,--by expenses in law +and calumnies in literature;--reform, Catholic claims, free +trade, abolition of flogging, right of free speech, as opposed by +attorneys-general. I was, in fact, all the while nothing but a poetic +student, appearing in politics once a week, but given up entirely to +letters almost all the rest of it, and loving nothing so much as a +book and a walk in the fields. I was precisely the sort of person, in +these respects, which I am at this moment. As to George the Fourth, I +aided, years afterwards, in publicly wishing him well--'years having +brought the philosophic mind'. I believe I even expressed regret at +not having given him the excuses due to all human beings (the passage, +I take it, is in the book which Colburn called _Lord Byron and his +Contemporaries_); _and when I consider that Moore has been pensioned, +not only in spite of all his libels on him, but perhaps by very reason +of their Whig partisanship, I should think it hard to be refused a +pension purely because I openly suffered for what I had earnestly +said_. I knew George the Fourth's physician, Sir William Knighton, +who had been mine before I was imprisoned (it was _not_ he who was the +royal agent alluded to); and, if my memory does not deceive me, Sir +William told me that George had been gratified by the book above +mentioned. Perhaps he had found out, by Sir William's help, that I was +not an ill-natured man, or one who could not outlive what was +mistaken in himself or resentful in others. As to my opinions about +Governments, the bad conduct of the Allies, and of Napoleon, and the +old Bourbons, certainly made them waver as to what might be ultimately +best, monarchy or republicanism; but they ended in favour of their +old predilections; and no man, for a long while, has been less a +republican than myself, monarchies and courts appearing to me salutary +for the good and graces of mankind, and Americanisms anything but +either. But nobody, I conceive, that knew my writings, or heard of me +truly from others, ever took me for a republican. William the Fourth +saw or heard nothing of me to hinder his letting Lord Melbourne give +me £200 out of the Royal Fund. Queen Victoria gave me another, +through the same kind friend. She also went twice to see my play; and +everybody knows how I praise and love her. _I do not think, therefore, +in reference to the pension, that the public would care twopence about +George the Fourth, one way or the other; or that if any remembered the +case at all, they would connect the pension in the least with anything +about him, but attribute it solely to the Queen's and Minister's +goodness, and the wants of a sincere and not undeserving man of +letters, distinguished for his loyal attachment_. I certainly think +the £500 fine ought not to have been taken out of my pocket, or the +other two £125 either; and I think also, that a liberal Whig minister +might reasonably and _privately_ think some compensation on those +accounts due to me. _I have been fighting his own fight from first to +last, and helping to prepare matters for his triumph_. But still the +above, in my opinion, is what the public would think of the matter, +_and my friends of the press could lay it entirely to the literary +account_. + + + + +GEORGE GORDON NOEL, + LORD BYRON + +1788-1824 + + + +To MR. HODGSON + +_Travel in Portugal_ + + +Lisbon, 16 _July_, 1809. + +Thus far have we pursued our route, and seen all sorts of marvellous +sights, palaces, convents, &c.,--which, being to be heard in my friend +Hobhouse's forthcoming Book of Travels, I shall not anticipate by +smuggling any account whatsoever to you in a private and clandestine +manner. I must just observe, that the village of Cintra in Estremadura +is the most beautiful, perhaps, in the world. + +I am very happy here, because I loves oranges, and talks bad Latin +to the monks, who understand it, as it is like their own,--and I goes +into society (with my pocket pistols), and I swims in the Tagus +all across at once, and I rides on an ass or a mule, and swears +Portuguese, and have got bites from the mosquitoes. But what of that? +Comfort must not be expected by folks that go a-pleasuring. + +When the Portuguese are pertinacious, I say '_Carracho_!'--the +great oath of the grandees, that very well supplies the place of +'Damme!'--and when dissatisfied with my neighbour, I pronounce +him '_Ambra di merdo_'. With these two phrases, and a third,'_Avra +bouro_', which signifieth 'Get an ass', I am universally understood to +be a person of degree and a master of languages. How merrily we +lives that travellers be!--if we had food and raiment. But, in sober +sadness, anything is better than England, and I am infinitely amused +with my pilgrimage, as far as it has gone. + +To-morrow we start to ride post near 400 miles as far as Gibraltar, +where we embark for Melita and Byzantium. A letter to Malta will find +me, or to be forwarded, if I am absent. Pray embrace the Drury and +Dwyer, and all the Ephesians you encounter. I am writing with Butler's +donative pencil, which makes my bad hand worse. Excuse illegibility. + +Hodgson! send me the news, and the deaths and defeats and capital +crimes and the misfortunes of one's friends; and let us hear of +literary matters, and the controversies and the criticisms. All this +will be pleasant--'_Suave mari magno_, &c.' Talking of that, I have +been sea-sick, and sick of the sea. Adieu. + + + +TO THOMAS MOORE + +_Announces his engagement_ + + +Newstead Abbey, 20 _Sept._ 1814. + + Here's to her who long + Hath waked the poet's sigh! + The girl who gave to song + What gold could never buy. + +MY DEAR MOORE, + +I am going to be married--that is, I am accepted, and one usually +hopes the rest will follow. My mother of the Gracchi (that _are_ to +be), _you_ think too strait-laced for me, although the paragon of only +children, and invested with 'golden opinions of all sorts of men', and +full of 'most blest conditions' as Desdemona herself. Miss Milbanke +is the lady, and I have her father's invitation to proceed there in my +elect capacity,--which, however, I cannot do until I have settled some +business in London, and got a blue coat. + +She is said to be an heiress, but of that I really know nothing +certainly, and shall not inquire. But I do know, that she has talents +and excellent qualities; and you will not deny her judgement, after +having refused six suitors and taken me. + +Now, if you have anything to say against this, pray do; my mind's +made up, positively fixed, determined, and therefore I will listen to +reason, because now it can do no harm. Things may occur to break it +off, but I will hope not. In the meantime I tell you (a _secret_, by +the by,--at least till I know she wishes it to be public) that I have +proposed and am accepted. You need not be in a hurry to wish me joy, +for one mayn't be married for months. I am going to town to-morrow, +but expect to be here, on my way there, within a fortnight. + +If this had not happened, I should have gone to Italy. In my way down, +perhaps you will meet me at Nottingham, and come over with me here. +I need not say that nothing will give me greater pleasure. I must, of +course, reform thoroughly; and, seriously, if I can contribute to +her happiness, I shall secure my own. She is so good a person +that--that--in short, I wish I was a better. + + + +TO JOHN MURRAY + +_No bid for sweet voices_ + + +Venice, 6 _April_, 1819. + +The second canto of Don Juan was sent, on Saturday last, by post, in +four packets, two of four, and two of three sheets each, containing +in all two hundred and seventeen stanzas, octave measure. But I will +permit no curtailments.... You shan't make _canticles_ of my cantos. +The poem will please, if it is lively; if it is stupid, it will fail; +but I will have none of your damned cutting and slashing. If you +please, you may publish _anonymously_; it will perhaps be better; but +I will battle my way against them all, like a porcupine. + +So you and Mr. Foscolo, etc., want me to undertake what you call a +'great work'? an Epic Poem, I suppose or some such pyramid. I'll try +no such thing; I hate tasks. And then 'seven or eight years'! God send +us all well this day three months, let alone years. If one's years +can't be better employed than in sweating poesy, a man had better be a +ditcher. And works, too!--is _Childe Harold_ nothing? You have so many +'_divine_' poems, is it nothing to have written a _human_ one? without +any of your worn-out machinery. Why, man, I could have spun the +thoughts of the four cantos of that poem into twenty, had I wanted to +book-make, and its passion into as many modern tragedies. Since you +want _length_, you shall have enough of _Juan_, for I'll make fifty +cantos.... + +Besides, I mean to write my best work in _Italian_, and it will take +me nine years more thoroughly to master the language; and then if my +fancy exist, and I exist too, I will try what I _can_ do _really_. As +to the estimation of the English which you talk of, let them +calculate what it is worth, before they insult me with their insolent +condescension. + +I have not written for their pleasure. If they are pleased, it is that +they chose to be so; I have never flattered their opinions, nor their +pride; nor will I. Neither will I make 'Ladies' books' '_al dilettar +le femine e la plebe_'. I have written from the fullness of my mind, +from passion, from impulse, from many motives, but not for their +'sweet voices'. + +I know the precise worth of popular applause, for few scribblers have +had more of it; and if I chose to swerve into their paths, I could +retain it, or resume it. But I neither love ye, nor fear ye; and +though I buy with ye and sell with ye, and talk with ye, I will +neither eat with ye, drink with ye, nor pray with ye. They made me, +without my search, a species of popular idol; they, without reason or +judgement, beyond the caprice of their good pleasure, threw down the +image from its pedestal; it was not broken with the fall, and they +would, it seems, again replace it,--but they shall not. + +You ask about my health: about the beginning of the year I was in a +state of great exhaustion ... and I was obliged to reform my 'way of +life', which was conducting me from the 'yellow leaf' to the ground, +with all deliberate speed. I am better in health and morals, and very +much yours, &c.-- + +PS. I have read Hodgson's '_Friends_'. He is right in defending Pope +against the bastard pelicans of the poetical winter day, who add +insult to their parricide, by sucking the blood of the parent of +English _real_ poetry,--poetry without fault,--and then spurning the +bosom which fed them. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The cemetery at Bologna_ + + +Bologna, 7 _June_, 1819. + +... I have been picture-gazing this morning at the famous Domenichino +and Guido, both of which are superlative. I afterwards went to the +beautiful cemetery of Bologna, beyond the walls, and found, besides +the superb burial-ground, an original of a Custode, who reminded me +of the grave-digger in _Hamlet_. He has a collection of capuchins' +skulls, labelled on the forehead, and taking down one of them, said, +'This was Brother Desiderio Berro, who died at forty--one of my best +friends. I begged his head of his brethren after his decease, and they +gave it me. I put it in lime, and then boiled it. Here it is, teeth +and all, in excellent preservation. He was the merriest, cleverest +fellow I ever knew. Wherever he went, he brought joy; and whenever any +one was melancholy, the sight of him was enough to make him cheerful +again. He walked so actively, you might have taken him for a +dancer--he joked--he laughed--oh! he was such a Frate as I never saw +before, nor ever shall again!' + +He told me that he had himself planted all the cypresses in the +cemetery; that he had the greatest attachment to them and to his dead +people; that since 1801 they had buried fifty-three thousand persons. +In showing some older monuments, there was that of a Roman girl of +twenty, with a bust by Bernini. She was a princess Bartorini, dead two +centuries ago: he said that, on opening her grave, they had found +her hair complete, and 'as yellow as gold'. Some of the epitaphs at +Ferrara pleased me more than the more splendid monuments at Bologna; +for instance:-- + + '_Martini Luigi + Implora pace.' + 'Lucrezia Picini + Implora eterna quiete_.' + +Can anything be more full of pathos? Those few words say all that can +be said or sought: the dead had had enough of life; all they wanted +was rest, and this they _implore_! There is all the helplessness, +and humble hope, and deathlike prayer, that can arise from the +grave--'_implora pace_'. I hope, whoever may survive me, and shall +see me put in the foreigners' burying-ground at the Lido, within the +fortress by the Adriatic, will see those two words, and no more, put +over me. I trust they won't think of 'pickling, and bringing me home +to Clod or Blunderbuss Hall'. I am sure my bones would not rest in +an English grave, or my clay mix with the earth of that country. I +believe the thought would drive me mad on my deathbed, could I suppose +that any of my friends would be base enough to convey my carcass back +to your soil. I would not even feed your worms, if I could help it. + +So, as Shakespeare says of Mowbray, the banished Duke of Norfolk, who +died at Venice (see _Richard II_), that he, after fighting + + Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens, + And toiled with works of war, retired himself + To Italy, and there, at _Venice_, gave + His body to that _pleasant_ country's earth, + And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ, + Under whose colours he had fought so long. + +Before I left Venice, I had returned to you your late, and Mr. +Hobhouse's sheets of _Juan_. Don't wait for further answers from +me, but address yours to Venice, as usual. I know nothing of my own +movements; I may return there in a few days, or not for some time. +All this depends on circumstances. I left Mr. Hoppner very well.... +My daughter Allegra was well too, and is growing pretty; her hair is +growing darker, and her eyes are blue. Her temper and her ways, Mr. +Hoppner says, are like mine, as well as her features: she will make, +in that case, a manageable young lady. + +I have never heard anything of Ada, the little Electra of my +Mycenae.... But there will come a day of reckoning, even if I should +not live to see it.... What a long letter I have scribbled! + +PS. Here, as in Greece, they strew flowers on the tombs. I saw a +quantity of rose-leaves, and entire roses, scattered over the graves +at Ferrara. It has the most pleasing effect you can imagine. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_In rebellious mood_ + + +Bologna, 24 _Aug_. 1819. + +I wrote to you by last post, enclosing a buffooning letter for +publication, addressed to the buffoon Roberts, who has thought proper +to tie a canister to his own tail. It was written off-hand, and in the +midst of circumstances not very favourable to facetiousness, so that +there may, perhaps, be more bitterness than enough for that sort of +small acid punch:--you will tell me. Keep the _anonymous_, in any +case: it helps what fun there may be. But if the matter grow serious +about _Don Juan_, and you feel _yourself_ in a scrape, or _me_ either, +_own that I am the author. I_ will never _shrink_, and if _you_ do, +I can always answer you in the question of Guatimozin to his +minister--each being on his own coals. + +I wish that I had been in better spirits; but I am out of sorts, out +of nerves, and now and then (I begin to fear) out of my senses. All +this Italy has done for me, and not England: I defy all you, and your +climate to boot, to make me mad. But if ever I do really become a +Bedlamite, and wear a strait waistcoat, let me be brought back among +you: your people will then be proper company. + +I assure you what I here say and feel has nothing to do with England, +either in a literary or personal point of view. All my present +pleasures or plagues are as Italian as the opera. And, after all, they +are but trifles; for all this arises from my 'Dama's' being in the +country for three days (at Capofiume). But as I could never live but +for one human being at a time (and, I assure you, _that one_ has never +been _myself_, as you may know by the consequences, for the _selfish_ +are _successful_ in life), I feel alone and unhappy. + +I have sent for my daughter from Venice, and I ride daily, and walk in +a garden, under a purple canopy of grapes, and sit by a fountain, and +talk with the gardener of his tools, which seem greater than Adam's, +and with his wife, and with his son's wife, who is the youngest of the +party, and, I think, talks best of the three. Then I revisit the Campo +Santo, and my old friend, the sexton, has two--but _one_ the prettiest +daughter imaginable; and I amuse myself with contrasting her beautiful +and innocent face of fifteen with the skulls with which he has peopled +several cells, and particularly with that of one skull, dated 1766, +which was once covered (the tradition goes) by the most lovely +features of Bologna--noble and rich. When I look at these, and at +this girl--when I think of what _they were_, and what she must be--why +then, my dear Murray, I won't shock you by saying what I think. It is +little matter what becomes of us 'bearded men', but I don't like the +notion of a beautiful woman's lasting less than a beautiful tree--than +her own picture--her own shadow, which won't change so to the sun +as her face to the mirror. I must leave off, for my head aches +consumedly. I have never been quite well since the night of the +representation of Alfieri's _Mirra_, a fortnight ago. + + + +To PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +_A trio of poets_ + + +Ravenna, 26 _April_, 1821. + +The child continues doing well, and the accounts are regular and +favourable. It is gratifying to me that you and Mrs. Shelley do not +disapprove of the step which I have taken, which is merely temporary. + +I am very sorry to hear what you say of Keats--is it _actually_ true? +I did not think criticism had been so killing. Though I differ from +you essentially in your estimate of his performances, I so much abhor +all unnecessary pain, that I would rather he had been seated on the +highest peak of Parnassus than have perished in such a manner. Poor +fellow! though with such inordinate self-love he would probably +have not been very happy. I read the review of _Endymion_ in the +_Quarterly_. It was severe,--but surely not so severe as many reviews +in that and other journals upon others. + +I recollect the effect on me of the _Edinburgh_ on my first poem; +it was rage, and resistance, and redress--but not despondency nor +despair. I grant that those are not amiable feelings; but, in this +world of bustle and broil, and especially in the career of writing, +a man should calculate upon his powers of _resistance_ before he goes +into the arena. + + Expect not life from pain nor danger free, + Nor deem the doom of man reserved for thee. + +You know my opinion of _that second-hand_ school of poetry. You +also know my high opinion of your own poetry,--because it is of +_no_ school. I read _Cenci_--but, besides that I think the _subject_ +essentially _un_ dramatic, I am not an admirer of our old dramatists, +_as models_. I deny that the English have hitherto had a drama at all. +Your _Cenci_, however, was a work of power, and poetry. As to _my_ +drama, pray revenge yourself upon it, by being as free as I have been +with yours. + +I have not yet got your _Prometheus_, which I long to see. I have +heard nothing of mine, and do not know that it is yet published. I +have published a pamphlet on the Pope controversy, which you will not +like. Had I known that Keats was dead--or that he was alive and so +sensitive--I should have omitted some remarks upon his poetry, +to which I was provoked by his _attack_ upon _Pope_, and my +disapprobation of _his own_ style of writing. + +You want me to undertake a great poem--I have not the inclination nor +the power. As I grow older, the indifference--_not_ to life, for we +love it by instinct--but to the stimuli of life, increases. Besides, +this late failure of the Italians has latterly disappointed me for +many reasons,--some public, some personal. My respects to Mrs. S. + +PS. Could not you and I contrive to meet this summer? Could not you +take a run here _alone_? + + + +To LADY BYRON + +_A plain statement of facts_ + + +Pisa, 17 _Nov_. 1821, + +I have to acknowledge the receipt of 'Ada's hair', which is very soft +and pretty, and nearly as dark already as mine was at twelve years +old, if I may judge from what I recollect of some in Augusta's +possession, taken at that age. But it don't curl,--perhaps from its +being let grow. + +I also thank you for the inscription of the date and name, and I will +tell you why;--I believe that they are the only two or three words of +your handwriting in my possession. For your letters I returned; and +except the two words, or rather the one word, 'Household', written +twice in an old account book, I have no other. I burnt your last +note, for two reasons:--firstly, it was written in a style not +very agreeable; and, secondly, I wished to take your word without +documents, which are the worldly resources of suspicious people. + +I suppose that this note will reach you somewhere about Ada's +birthday--the 10th of December, I believe. She will then be six, +so that in about twelve more I shall have some chance of meeting +her;--perhaps sooner, if I am obliged to go to England by business +or otherwise. Recollect, however, one thing, either in distance or +nearness;--every day which keeps us asunder should, after so long a +period, rather soften our mutual feelings, which must always have one +rallying-point as long as our child exists, which I presume we both +hope will be long after either of her parents. + +The time which has elapsed since the separation has been considerably +more than the whole brief period of our union, and the not much longer +one of our prior acquaintance. We both made a bitter mistake; but now +it is over, and irrevocably so. For, at thirty-three on my part, and a +few years less on yours, though it is no very extended period of life, +still it is one when the habits and thought are generally so formed as +to admit of no modification; and as we could not agree when younger, +we should with difficulty do so now. + +I say all this, because I own to you, that, notwithstanding +everything, I considered our reunion as not impossible for more than +a year after the separation;--but then I gave up the hope entirely and +for ever. But this very impossibility of reunion seems to me at least +a reason why, on all the few points of discussion which can arise +between us, we should preserve the courtesies of life, and as much of +its kindness as people who are never to meet may preserve perhaps more +easily than nearer connexions. For my own part, I am violent, but not +malignant; for only fresh provocations can awaken my resentments. To +you, who are colder and more concentrated, I would just hint, that +you may sometimes mistake the depth of a cold anger for dignity, and a +worse feeling for duty. I assure you that I bear you _now_ (whatever +I may have done) no resentment whatever. Remember, that _if you have +injured me_ in aught, this forgiveness is something; and that, if I +have _injured you_, it is something more still, if it be true, as the +moralists say, that the most offending are the least forgiving. + +Whether the offence has been solely on my side, or reciprocal, or on +yours chiefly, I have ceased to reflect upon any but two things,--viz. +that you are the mother of my child, and that we shall never meet +again. I think if you also consider the two corresponding points with +reference to myself, it will be better for all three. + + + +To MR. BARFF + +_Sympathy with the Greeks_ + + +10 _March_, 1824. + +Enclosed is an answer to Mr. Parruca's letter, and I hope that you +will assure him from me, that I have done and am doing all I can to +reunite the Greeks with the Greeks. + +I am extremely obliged by your offer of your country-house (as for all +other kindness) in case that my health should require my removal; but +I cannot quit Greece while there is a chance of my being of any (even +supposed) utility:--there is a stake worth millions such as I am, and +while I can stand at all, I must stand by the cause. When I say this, +I am at the same time aware of the difficulties and dissensions and +defects of the Greeks themselves; but allowance must be made for them +by all reasonable people. + +My chief, indeed _nine-tenths_ of my expenses here are solely in +advances to or on behalf of the Greeks, and objects connected with +their independence. + +[_Enclosure, translated_] + + + +To S.R. PARRUCA + + +10 _March_, 1824. + +_Sir_,--I have the honour of answering your letter. My first wish has +always been to bring the Greeks to agree among themselves. I came here +by the invitation of the Greek Government, and I do not think that I +ought to abandon Roumelia for the Peloponnesus until that Government +shall desire it; and the more so, as this part is exposed in a greater +degree to the enemy. Nevertheless, if my presence can really be of any +assistance in uniting two or more parties, I am ready to go anywhere, +either as a mediator, or, if necessary, as a hostage. In these affairs +I have neither private views, nor private dislike of any individual, +but the sincere wish of deserving the name of the friend of your +country, and of her patriots. + + + + +PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 1792-1822 + + + +To T.J. HOGG + +_His first marriage_ + + +[_No date. Postmark_, Rhayader. Summer of 1811.] + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +You will perhaps see me before you can answer this; perhaps not; +Heaven knows! I shall certainly come to York, but _Harriet Westbrook_ +will decide whether now or in three weeks. Her father has persecuted +her in a most horrible way, by endeavouring to compel her to go to +school. She asked my advice: resistance, was the answer, at the same +time that I essayed to mollify Mr. W. in vain! And in consequence of +my advice _she_ has thrown herself upon _my_ protection. + +I set off for London on Monday. How flattering a distinction!--I am +thinking of ten million things at once. + +What have I said? I declare, quite _ludicrous_. I advised her to +resist. She wrote to say that resistance was useless, but that she +would fly with me, and threw herself upon my protection. We shall have +£200 a year; when we find it run short, we must live, I suppose, upon +love! Gratitude and admiration, all demand that I should love her +_for ever._ We shall see you at York. I will hear your arguments for +matrimonialism, by which I am now almost convinced. I can get lodgings +at York, I suppose. Direct to me at Graham's, 18, Sackville Street, +Piccadilly. + +Your inclosure of £10 has arrived; I am now indebted to you £30. +In spite of philosophy, I am rather ashamed of this unceremonious +exsiccation of your financial river. But indeed, my dear friend, the +gratitude which I owe you for your society and attachment ought so far +to overbalance this consideration as to leave me nothing but that. I +must, however, pay you when I can. + +I suspect that the _strain_ is gone for ever. This letter will +convince you that I am not under the influence of a _strain_. + +I am thinking at once of ten million things. I shall come to live near +you, as Mr. Peyton. + +Ever your most faithful friend. + +I shall be at 18, Sackville Street; at least direct there. Do not send +more cash; I shall raise supplies in London. + + + +To WILLIAM GODWIN + +_An introduction_ + + +Keswick, 3 _Jan_. 1812. + +You will be surprised at hearing from a stranger. No introduction has, +nor in all probability ever will authorize that which common thinkers +would call a liberty; it is, however, a liberty which, although not +sanctioned by custom, is so far from being reprobated by reason, that +the dearest interests of mankind imperiously demand that a certain +etiquette of fashion should no longer keep 'man at a distance from +man', or impose its flimsy fancies between the free communication of +intellect. + +The name of Godwin has been used to excite in me feelings of reverence +and admiration. I have been accustomed to consider him a luminary +too dazzling for the darkness which surrounds him. From the earliest +period of my knowledge of his principles, I have ardently desired +to share, on the footing of intimacy, that intellect which I have +delighted to contemplate in its emanations. + +Considering, then, these feelings, you will not be surprised at the +inconceivable emotions with which I learned your existence and your +dwelling. I had enrolled your name in the list of the honourable dead. +I had felt regret that the glory of your being had passed from this +earth of ours. It is not so; you still live, and, I firmly believe, +are still planning the welfare of human kind. + +I have but just entered on the scene of human operations; yet my +feelings and my reasonings correspond with what yours were. My course +has been short, but eventful. I have seen much of human prejudice, +suffered much from human persecution, yet I see no reason hence +inferable which should alter my wishes for their renovation. The +ill-treatment I have met with has more than ever impressed the truth +of my principles on my judgement. I am young, I am ardent in the cause +of philanthropy and truth; do not suppose that this is vanity; I am +not conscious that it influences this portraiture. I imagine myself +dispassionately describing the state of my mind. I am young; you +have gone before me--I doubt not, are a veteran to me in the years of +persecution. Is it strange that, defying prejudice as I have done; I +should outstep the limits of custom's prescription, and endeavour to +make my desire useful by a friendship with William Godwin? + +I pray you to answer this letter. Imperfect as may be my capacity, +my desire is ardent and unintermitted. Half an hour would be at least +humanely employed in the experiment. I may mistake your residence; +certain feelings, of which I may be an inadequate arbiter, may induce +you to desire concealment; I may not, in fine, have an answer to this +letter. If I do not, when I come to London, I shall seek for you. I am +convinced I could represent myself to you in such terms as not to be +thought wholly unworthy of your friendship; at least, if desire for +universal happiness has any claim upon your preference, that desire I +can exhibit. Adieu! I shall earnestly await your answer. + + + +To THOMAS HOOKHAM + +_A subscription for Hunt_ + + +_February_ 1813. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +I am boiling with indignation at the horrible injustice and tyranny +of the sentence pronounced on Hunt and his brother; and it is on this +subject that I write to you. Surely the seal of abjectness and slavery +is indelibly stamped upon the character of England. + +Although I do not retract in the slightest degree my wish for a +subscription for the widows and children of those poor men hung at +York, yet this £1000 which the Hunts are sentenced to pay is an affair +of more consequence. Hunt is a brave, a good, and an enlightened man. +Surely the public, for whom Hunt has done so much, will repay in part +the great debt of obligation which they owe the champion of their +liberties and virtues; or are they dead, cold, stone-hearted, and +insensible--brutalized by centuries of unremitting bondage? +However that may be, they surely may be excited into some slight +acknowledgement of his merits. Whilst hundreds of thousands are sent +to the tyrants of Russia, he pines in a dungeon, far from all that can +make life desired. + +Well, I am rather poor at present; but I have £20 which is not +immediately wanted. Pray, begin a subscription for the Hunts; put down +my name for that sum, and, when I hear that you have complied with my +request, I will send it you. Now, if there are any difficulties in +the way of this scheme of ours, for the love of liberty and virtue, +overcome them. Oh! that I might wallow for one night in the Bank of +England! + +_Queen Mab_ is finished and transcribed. I am now preparing the notes, +which shall be long and philosophical. You will receive it with the +other poems. I think that the whole should form one volume; but of +that we can speak hereafter. + +As to the French _Encyclopédie_, it is a book which I am +desirous--very desirous--of possessing, and if you could get me a few +months' credit (being at present rather low in cash), I should very +much desire to have it. + +My dear sir, excuse the earnestness of the first part of my letter. I +feel warmly on this subject, and I flatter myself that so long as your +own independence and liberty remain uncompromised, you are inclined to +second my desires. + +PS. If no other way can be devised for this subscription, will you +take the trouble on yourself of writing an appropriate advertisement +for the papers, inserting, by way of stimulant, my subscription? + +On second thoughts, I enclose the £20. + + + +To MR. OLLIER + +_An article by Southey_ + + +Florence, 15 _Oct_. 1819. + +DEAR SIR, + +The droll remarks of the _Quarterly_, and Hunt's kind defence, arrived +as safe as such poison, and safer than such an antidote, usually do. + +I am on the point of sending to you 250 copies of a work which I have +printed in Italy; which you will have to pay four or five pounds duty +upon, on my account. Hunt will tell you the _kind of thing_ it is, +and in the course of the winter I shall send directions for its +publication, _until the arrival of which directions, I request that +you would have the kindness not_ to open the box, _or, if by necessity +it is opened, to abstain from observing yourself or permitting others +to observe, what it contains_. I trust this confidently to you, it +being of consequence. Meanwhile, assure yourself that this work has no +reference, direct or indirect, to politics, or religion, or personal +satire, and that this precaution is merely literary. + +The _Prometheus_, a poem in my best style, whatever that may amount +to, will arrive with it, but in MS., which you can print and publish +in the season. It is the most perfect of my productions. + +Southey wrote the article in question, I am well aware. Observe the +impudence of the man in speaking of himself. The only remark worth +notice in this piece is the assertion that I imitate Wordsworth. +It may as well be said that Lord Byron imitates Wordsworth, or that +Wordsworth imitates Lord Byron, both being great poets, and deriving +from the new springs of thought and feeling, which the great events +of our age have exposed to view, a similar tone of sentiment, imagery, +and expression. A certain similarity all the best writers of any +particular age inevitably are marked with, from the spirit of that age +acting on all. This I had explained in my _Preface_, which the +writer was too disingenuous to advert to. As to the other trash, and +particularly that lame attack on my personal character, which was +meant so ill, and which I am not the man to feel, 'tis all nothing. I +am glad, with respect to that part of it which alludes to Hunt, that +it should so have happened that I dedicate, as you will see, a work +which has all the capacities for being popular to that excellent +person. I was amused, too, with the finale; it is like the end of the +first act of an opera, when that tremendous concordant discord sets +up from the orchestra, and everybody talks and sings at once. It +describes the result of my battle with their Omnipotent God; his +pulling me under the sea by the hair of my head, like Pharaoh; my +calling out like the devil who was _game_ to the last; swearing and +cursing in all comic and horrid oaths, like a French postilion on +Mount Cenis; entreating everybody to drown themselves; pretending not +to be drowned myself when I _am_ drowned; and lastly, _being_ drowned. + +You would do me a particular kindness if you would call on Hunt, and +ask him when my parcel went, the name of the ship, and the name of the +captain, and whether he has any bill of lading, which, if he has, you +would oblige me by sending, together with the rest of the information, +by return of post, addressed to the Post Office, Florence. + + + +To MRS. HUNT + +_Keats and some others_ + + +[Pisa] 11 _Nov_. 1820. + +MY BEST MARIANNE, + +I am delighted to hear that you complain of me for not writing to you, +although I have much more reason to complain of you for not writing to +me. At least it promises me a letter from you, and you know with what +pleasure we receive, and with what anxiety we expect intelligence from +you--almost the only friends who now remain to us. + +I am afraid that the strict system of expense to which you are limited +annoys you all very much, and that Hunt's health suffers both from +that and from the incredible exertions which I see by the _Indicators_ +and the _Examiners_ that he is making. Would to Heaven that I had the +power of doing you some good! but when you are sure that the wish is +sincere, the bare expression of it may help to cheer you. + +The Gisbornes are arrived, and have brought news of you, and some +books, the principal part of which, however, are yet to arrive by +sea. Keats's new volume has arrived to us, and the fragment called +_Hyperion_ promises for him that he is destined to become one of the +first writers of the age. His other things are imperfect enough, and, +what is worse, written in the bad sort of style which is becoming +fashionable among those who fancy that they are imitating Hunt and +Wordsworth. But of all these things nothing is worse than ----, in +spite of Hunt's extracting the only good stanzas, with his usual good +nature. Indeed, _I_ ought not to complain of Hunt's good nature, for +no one owes so much to it. Is not the vulgarity of these wretched +imitations of Lord Byron carried to a pitch of the sublime? His +indecencies, too, both against sexual nature, and against human +nature in general, sit very awkwardly upon him. He only affects the +libertine: he is, really, a very amiable, friendly, and agreeable +man, I hear. But is not this monstrous? In Lord Byron all this has +an analogy with the general system of his character, and the wit and +poetry which surround hide with their light the darkness of the thing +itself. They contradict it even; they prove that the strength and +beauty of human nature can survive and conquer all that appears most +inconsistent with it. But for a writer to be at once filthy and dull +is a crime against gods, men, and columns. For Heaven's sake do not +show this to any one but Hunt, for it would irritate the wasp's nest +of the irritable race of poets. + +Where is Keats now? I am anxiously expecting him in Italy, when I +shall take care to bestow every possible attention on him. I consider +his a most valuable life, and I am deeply interested in his safety. I +intend to be the physician both of his body and his soul, to keep +the one warm, and to teach the other Greek and Spanish. I am aware, +indeed, in part, that I am nourishing a rival who will far surpass me; +and this is an additional motive, and will be an added pleasure. + +We are at this moment removing from the Bagni to Pisa, for the Serchio +has broken its banks, and all the country about is under water. An old +friend and fellow-townsman of mine, Captain Medwin, is on a visit to +us at present, and we anxiously expect Keats, to whom I would write if +I knew where to address. + +Adieu, my dear Marianne. Write soon; kiss all the babes for me, and +tell me news of them, and give my love to Bessy and Hunt. + + + +To LEIGH HUNT + +_A literary collaboration_ + + +Pisa, 26 _Aug._ 1821. + +MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +Since I last wrote to you, I have been on a visit to Lord Byron at +Ravenna. The result of this visit was a determination, on his part, to +come and live at Pisa; and I have taken the finest palace on the Lung' +Arno for him. But the material part of my visit consists in a message +which he desires me to give you, and which, I think, ought to add +to your determination--for such a one I hope you have formed--of +restoring your shattered health and spirits by a migration to these +'regions mild of calm and serene air'. + +He proposes that you should come out and go shares with him and me, +in a periodical work, to be conducted here; in which each of the +contracting parties should publish all their original compositions and +share the profits. He proposed it to Moore, but for some reason it was +never brought to bear. There can be no doubt that the _profits_ of +any scheme in which you and Lord Byron engage, must, from various, +yet co-operating reasons, be very great. As for myself, I am for the +present only a sort of link between you and him, until you can know +each other, and effectuate the arrangement; since (to entrust you with +a secret which, for your sake, I withhold from Lord Byron) nothing +would induce me to share in the profits, and still less, in the +borrowed splendour of such a partnership. You and he, in different +manners, would be equal, and would bring, in a different manner, but +in the same proportion, equal stocks of reputation and success. Do not +let my frankness with you, nor my belief that you deserve it more than +Lord Byron, have the effect of deterring you from assuming a station +in modern literature which the universal voice of my contemporaries +forbids me either to stoop or to aspire to. I am, and I desire to be, +nothing. + +I did not ask Lord Byron to assist me in sending a remittance for your +journey; because there are men, however excellent, from whom we would +never receive an obligation, in the worldly sense of the word; and I +am as jealous for my friend as for myself. But I suppose that I shall +at last make up an impudent face, and ask Horace Smith to add to the +many obligations he has conferred on me. I know I need only ask. + +I think I have never told you how very much I like your _Amyntas_; it +almost reconciles me to translations. In another sense I still demur. +You might have written another such a poem as the _Nymphs_, with no +access of efforts. I am full of thoughts and plans, and should do +something, if the feeble and irritable frame which incloses it was +willing to obey the spirit. I fancy that then I should do great +things. Before this you will have seen _Adonais_. Lord Byron, I +suppose from modesty, on account of his being mentioned in it, did +not say a word of _Adonais_, though he was loud in his praise of +_Prometheus_, and, what you will not agree with him in, censure of +the _Cenci_. Certainly, if _Marino Faliero_ is a drama, the _Cenci_ +is not--but that between ourselves. Lord Byron is reformed, as far +as gallantry goes, and lives with a beautiful and sentimental Italian +lady, who is as much attached to him as may be. I trust greatly to his +intercourse with you, for his creed to become as pure as he thinks his +conduct is. He has many generous and exalted qualities, but the canker +of aristocracy wants to be cut out. + + + + +JOHN KEATS + +1795-1821 + + + +To JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS + +_Burns's cottage_ + + +Maybole, 11 _July_ [1818]. + +MY DEAR REYNOLDS, + +... I am approaching Burns's cottage very fast. We have made continual +inquiries from the time we saw his tomb at Dumfries. His name, of +course, is known all about: his great reputation among the plodding +people is, 'that he wrote a good _mony_ sensible things'. One of the +pleasantest means of annulling self is approaching such a shrine as +the Cottage of Burns: we need not think of his misery--that is all +gone, bad luck to it! I shall look upon it hereafter with unmixed +pleasure, as I do my Stratford-on-Avon day with Bailey. I shall fill +this sheet for you in the Bardie's country, going no further than +this, till I get to the town of Ayr, which will be a nine miles' walk +to tea. + +We were talking on different and indifferent things, when, on a +sudden, we turned a corner upon the immediate country of Ayr. The +sight was as rich as possible. I had no conception that the native +place of Burns was so beautiful; the idea I had was more desolate: his +'_Rigs of Barley_' seemed always to me but a few strips of green on a +cold hill--Oh, prejudice!--It was as rich as Devon. I endeavoured +to drink in the prospect, that I might spin it out to you, as the +silkworm makes silk from mulberry leaves. I cannot recollect it. +Besides all the beauty, there were the mountains of Arran Isle, black +and huge over the sea. We came down upon everything suddenly; there +were in our way the 'bonny Doon', with the brig that Tam o' Shanter +crossed, Kirk Alloway, Burns's Cottage, and then the Brigs of Ayr. +First we stood upon the Bridge across the Doon, surrounded by every +phantasy of green in tree, meadow, and hill: the stream of the Doon, +as a farmer told us, is covered with trees 'from head to foot'. +You know those beautiful heaths, so fresh against the weather of a +summer's evening; there was one stretching along behind the trees. + +I wish I knew always the humour my friends would be in at opening +a letter of mine, to suit it to them as nearly as possible. I could +always find an egg-shell for melancholy, and, as for merriment, a +witty humour will turn anything to account. My head is sometimes in +such a whirl in considering the million likings and antipathies of our +moments, that I can get into no settled strain in my letters. My wig! +Burns and sentimentality coming across you and Frank Floodgate in the +office. Oh, Scenery, that thou shouldst be crushed between two puns! +As for them, I venture the rascalliest in the Scotch region. I hope +Brown does not put them in his journal: if he does, I must sit on the +cutty-stool all next winter. We went to Kirk Alloway. 'A prophet is +no prophet in his own country.' We went to the Cottage and took some +whisky. I wrote a sonnet for the mere sake of writing some lines under +the roof: they are so bad I cannot transcribe them. The man at the +cottage was a great bore with his anecdotes. I hate the rascal. His +life consists in fuzy, fuzzy, fuzziest. He drinks glasses, five for +the quarter, and twelve for the hour; he is a mahogany-faced old +jackass who knew Burns: he ought to have been kicked for having spoken +to him. He calls himself 'a curious old bitch', but he is a flat +old dog. I should like to employ Caliph Vathek to kick him. Oh, the +flummery of a birthplace! Cant! cant! cant! It is enough to give +a spirit the guts-ache. Many a true word, they say, is spoken in +jest--this may be because his gab hindered my sublimity: the flat dog +made me write a flat sonnet. My dear Reynolds, I cannot write about +scenery and visitings. Fancy is indeed less than a present palpable +reality, but it is greater than remembrance. You would lift your eyes +from Homer only to see close before you the real Isle of Tenedos. You +would rather read Homer afterwards than remember yourself. One song +of Burns's is of more worth to you than all I could think for a whole +year in his native country. His misery is a dead weight upon the +nimbleness of one's quill; I tried to forget it--to drink toddy +without any care--to write a merry sonnet--it won't do--he talked, he +drank with blackguards; he was miserable. We can see horribly clear, +in the works of such a man, his whole life, as if we were God's +spies.... + + + +TO RICHARD WOODHOUSE + +_The poetic character_ + + +Hampstead, 27 _Oct_. 1818. + +MY DEAR WOODHOUSE, + +Your letter gave me great satisfaction, more on account of its +friendliness than any relish of that matter in it which is accounted +so acceptable in the _genus irritabile_. The best answer I can +give you is in a clerklike manner to make some observations on two +principal points which seem to point like indices into the midst of +the whole _pro_ and _con_ about genius, and views, and achievements, +and ambition, _et coetera_. 1st. As to the poetical character itself +(I mean that sort, of which, if I am anything, I am a member; that +sort distinguished from the Wordsworthian, or egotistical sublime; +which is a thing _per se_, and stands alone), it is not itself--it has +no self--it is everything and nothing--it has no character--it enjoys +light and shade--it lives in gusto, be it foul or fair, high or low, +rich or poor, mean or elevated--it has as much delight in conceiving +an Iago as an Imogen. What shocks the virtuous philosopher delights +the chameleon poet. It does no harm from its relish of the dark side +of things, any more than from its taste for the bright one, because +they both end in speculation. A poet is the most unpoetical of +anything in existence, because he has no identity; he is continually +in for, and filling, some other body. The sun, the moon, the sea, and +men and women, who are creatures of impulse, are poetical, and have +about them an unchangeable attribute; the poet has none, no identity. +He is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's creatures. If, then, +he has no self, and if I am a poet, where is the wonder that I should +say I would write no more? Might I not at that very instant have been +cogitating on the characters of Saturn and Ops? It is a wretched thing +to confess, but it is a very fact, that not one word I ever utter can +be taken for granted as an opinion growing out of my identical nature. +How can it, when I have no nature? When I am in a room with people, +if I ever am free from speculating on creations of my own brain, then, +not myself goes home to myself, but the identity of every one in the +room begins to press upon me, [so] that I am in a very little time +annihilated--not only among men; it would be the same in a nursery of +children. I know not whether I make myself wholly understood: I hope +enough so to let you see that no dependence is to be placed on what I +said that day. + +In the second place, I will speak of my views, and of the life I +purpose to myself. I am ambitious of doing the world some good: if +I should be spared, that may be the work of maturer years--in the +interval I will assay to reach to as high a summit in poetry as the +nerve bestowed upon me will suffer. The faint conceptions I have of +poems to come bring the blood frequently into my forehead. All I +hope is, that I may not lose all interest in human affairs--that +the solitary indifference I feel for applause, even from the finest +spirits, will not blunt any acuteness of vision I may have. I do not +think it will. I feel assured I should write from the mere yearning +and fondness I have for the beautiful, even if my night's labours +should be burnt every morning, and no eye ever shine upon them. +But even now I am perhaps not speaking from myself, but from some +character in whose soul I now live ... + + + +TO PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +_Returning advice_ + + +Hampstead, 10 _Aug_. 1820. + +MY DEAR SHELLEY, + +I am very much gratified that you, in a foreign country, and with a +mind almost over-occupied, should write to me in the strain of the +letter beside me. If I do not take advantage of your invitation, +it will be prevented by a circumstance I have very much at heart to +prophesy. There is no doubt that an English winter would put an end to +me, and do so in a lingering, hateful manner. Therefore, I must either +voyage or journey to Italy, as a soldier marches up to a battery. +My nerves at present are the worst part of me, yet they feel soothed +that, come what extreme may, I shall not be destined to remain in one +spot long enough to take a hatred of any four particular bedposts. I +am glad you take any pleasure in my poor poem, which I would willingly +take the trouble to unwrite, if possible, did I care so much as I +have done about reputation. I received a copy of the _Cenci_, as from +yourself, from Hunt. There is only one part of it I am judge of--the +poetry and dramatic effect, which by many spirits nowadays is +considered the Mammon. A modern work, it is said, must have a purpose, +which may be the God. An artist must serve Mammon; he must have +'self-concentration'--selfishness, perhaps. You, I am sure, +will forgive me for sincerely remarking that you might curb your +magnanimity, and be more of an artist, and load every rift of your +subject with ore. The thought of such discipline must fall like cold +chains upon you, who perhaps never sat with your wings furled for six +months together. And is not this extraordinary talk for the writer of +_Endymion_, whose mind was like a pack of scattered cards? I am picked +up and sorted to a pip. My imagination is a monastery, and I am its +monk. I am in expectation of _Prometheus_ every day. Could I have my +own wish effected, you would have it still in manuscript, or be but +now putting an end to the second act. I remember you advising me not +to publish my first blights, on Hampstead Heath. I am returning advice +upon your hands. Most of the poems in the volume I send you have been +written above two years, and would never have been published but for a +hope of gain; so you see I am inclined enough to take your advice now. +I must express once more my deep sense of your kindness, adding my +sincere thanks and respects for Mrs. Shelley. In hope of soon seeing +you-- + + + +To CHARLES BROWN + +_A despairing cry_ + + +Naples, 1 _Nov_. [1820.] + +MY DEAR BROWN, + +Yesterday we were let out of quarantine, during which my health +suffered more from bad air and the stifled cabin than it had done the +whole voyage. The fresh air revived me a little, and I hope I am well +enough this morning to write to you a short calm letter;--if that can +be called one, in which I am afraid to speak of what I would +fainest dwell upon. As I have gone thus far into it, I must go on +a little;--perhaps it may relieve the load of _wretchedness_ which +presses upon me. The persuasion that I shall see her no more will kill +me. My dear Brown, I should have had her when I was in health, and I +should have remained well. I can bear to die--I cannot bear to leave +her. Oh, God! God! God! Everything I have in my trunks that reminds +me of her goes through me like a spear. The silk lining she put in my +travelling cap scalds my head. My imagination is horribly vivid +about her--I see her--I hear her. There is nothing in the world of +sufficient interest to divert me from her a moment. This was the case +when I was in England: I cannot recollect, without shuddering, the +time that I was a prisoner at Hunt's, and used to keep my eyes +fixed on Hampstead all day. Then there was a good hope of seeing +her again--Now!--O that I could be buried near where she lives! I +am afraid to write to her--to receive a letter from her--to see her +handwriting would break my heart--even to hear of her anyhow, to see +her name written, would be more than I can bear. My dear Brown, what +am I to do? Where can I look for consolation or ease? If I had any +chance of recovery, this passion would kill me. Indeed, through the +whole of my illness, both at your house and at Kentish Town, this +fever has never ceased wearing me out. When you write to me, which you +will do immediately, write to Rome (_poste restante_)--if she is well +and happy, put a mark thus +; if-- + +Remember me to all. I will endeavour to bear my miseries patiently. +A person in my state of health should not have such miseries to bear. +Write a short note to my sister, saying you have heard from me. Severn +is very well. If I were in better health I would urge your coming to +Rome. I fear there is no one can give me any comfort. Is there any +news of George? O that something fortunate had ever happened to me or +my brothers!--then I might hope,--but despair is forced upon me as a +habit. My dear Brown, for my sake, be her advocate for ever. I +cannot say a word about Naples; I do not feel at all concerned in the +thousand novelties around me. I am afraid to write to her. I should +like her to know that I do not forget her. Oh, Brown, I have coals of +fire in my breast. It surprises me that the human heart is capable of +containing and bearing so much misery. Was I born for this end? God +bless her, and her mother, and my sister, and George, and his wife, +and you, and all!... + + + + +THOMAS HOOD + +1799-1845 + + + +To CHARLES DICKENS + +_American Notes_ + + +17 Elm Tree Road, 12 _Oct_. 1842. + +DEAR DICKENS, + +Can you let me have an early copy of the _American Notes_ so that I +may review it in the _New Monthly_? Is it really likely to be ready +as advertised? I aim this at Devonshire Place, supposing you to be +returned, for with these winds 'tis no fit time for the coast. But +your bones are not so weather unwise (for ignorance _is_ bliss) as +mine. I should have asked this by word of mouth in Devonshire Place, +but the weather has kept me indoors. It is no fiction that the +complaint, derived from Dutch malaria seven years ago, is revived by +Easterly winds. Otherwise I have been better than usual, and 'never +say die'. Don't forget about the Yankee Notes. I never had but one +American friend, and lost him through _a good crop of pears_. He paid +us a visit in England; whereupon in honour of him, a pear tree, which +had never borne fruit to speak of within memory of man, was loaded +with ninety dozen of brown somethings. Our gardener said they were +a _keeping_ sort, and would be good at Christmas; whereupon, as our +Jonathan was on the eve of sailing for the States, we sent him a few +dozens to dessert him on the voyage. Some he put at the bottom of a +trunk (he wrote to us) to take to America; but he could not have been +gone above a day or two, when all _our_ pears began to rot! _His_ +would, of course, by sympathy, and I presume spoilt his linen or +clothes, for I have never heard of him since. Perhaps he thought I had +_done_ him on purpose, and for sartin the tree, my accomplice, never +bore any more pears, good or bad, after that supernatural crop. + +Pray present my respects for me to Mrs. Dickens. How she must enjoy +being at home and discovering her children, after her Columbusing, and +only discovering America! + + + +TO THE MANCHESTER ATHENAEUM + +_The uses of literature_ + + +(From my bed) + +17 Elm Tree Road, St. John's Wood, 18 _July_, 1843. + +GENTLEMEN, + +If my humble name can be of the least use for your purpose, it is +heartily at your service, with my best wishes for the prosperity of +the Manchester Athenaeum, and my warmest approval of the objects of +that Institution. + +I have elsewhere recorded my own deep obligations to Literature--that +a natural turn for reading, and intellectual pursuits, probably +preserved me from the moral shipwreck so apt to befall those who are +deprived in early life of the paternal pilotage. At the very least my +books kept me aloof from the ring, the dog-pit, the tavern, and the +saloons, with their degrading orgies. For the closet associate of Pope +and Addison, the mind accustomed to the noble, though silent discourse +of Shakespeare and Milton, will hardly seek, or put up with low +company and slang. The reading animal will not be content with the +brutish wallowings that satisfy the unlearned pigs of the world. +Later experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that +literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow; how powerfully +intellectual pursuits can help in keeping the head from crazing, and +the heart from breaking; nay, not to be too grave, how generous mental +food can even atone for a meagre diet; rich fare on the paper, for +short commons on the cloth. + +Poisoned by the malaria of the Dutch marshes, my stomach for many +months resolutely set itself against fish, flesh, or fowl; my appetite +had no more edge than the German knife placed before me. But luckily +the mental palate and digestion were still sensible and vigorous; and +whilst I passed untasted every dish at the Rhenish table-d'-hôte, +I could still enjoy my _Peregrine Pickle_, and the feast after the +manner of the Ancients. There was no yearning towards calf's head +_à la tortue_, or sheep's heart; but I could still relish Head _à la +Brunnen_, and the _Heart of Mid-Lothian._ Still more recently it was +my misfortune, with a tolerable appetite, to be condemned to Lenten +fare, like Sancho Panza, by my physician, to a diet, in fact, lower +than any prescribed by the Poor-Law Commissioners, all animal food, +from a bullock to a rabbit, being strictly interdicted, as well as +all fluids stronger than that which lays dust, washes pinafores, and +waters polyanthus. But the feast of reason and the flow of soul were +still mine! + +Denied beef, I had Bulwer and Cowper; forbidden mutton, there was +Lamb; and in lieu of pork, the great Bacon, or Hogg. Then as to +beverage; it was hard, doubtless, for a Christian to set his face, +like a Turk, against the juice of the grape. But, eschewing wine, +I had still my Butler; and in the absence of liquor, all the Choice +Spirits from Tom Browne to Tom Moore. Thus though confined physically +to the drink that drowns kittens, I quaffed mentally, not merely the +best of our own home-made, but the rich, racy, sparkling growths of +France and Italy, of Germany and Spain; the champagne of Molière, the +Monte Pulciano of Boccaccio, the hock of Schiller, and the sherry of +Cervantes. Depressed bodily by the fluid that damps everything, I got +intellectually elevated with Milton, a little merry with Swift, or +rather jolly with Rabelais, whose Pantagruel, by the way, is equal to +the best gruel with rum in it. + +So far can Literature palliate, or compensate, for gastronomical +privations. But there are other evils, great and small, in this world, +which try the stomach less than the head, the heart, and the temper; +bowls that will not roll right, well-laid schemes that will 'gang +aglee', and ill winds that blow with the pertinacity of the monsoon. +Of these Providence has allotted me a full share, but still, +paradoxical as it may sound, my _burthen_ has been greatly lightened +by a _load of books_. The manner of this will be best understood by a +_feline_ illustration. Everybody has heard of the two Kilkenny cats, +who devoured each other; but it is not so generally known, that they +left behind them an orphan kitten, which, true to its breed, began to +eat itself up, till it was diverted from the operation by a mouse. Now +the human mind, under vexation, is like that kitten, for it is apt to +_prey upon itself_, unless drawn off by a new object, and none better +for the purpose than a book. For example, one of Defoe's; for who, +in reading his thrilling _History of the Great Plague_, would not be +reconciled to a few little ones? + +Many, many a dreary weary hour have I got over--many a gloomy +misgiving postponed--many a mental and bodily annoyance forgotten by +help of the tragedies, and comedies, of our dramatists and novelists! +Many a trouble has been soothed by the still small voice of the moral +philosopher; many a dragon-like care charmed to sleep by the sweet +song of the poet! For all which I cry incessantly, not aloud, but in +my heart, 'Thanks and honour to the glorious masters of the pen, and +the great inventors of the press!' Such has been my own experience of +the blessing and comfort of literature and intellectual pursuits; +and of the same mind, doubtless, was Sir Humphry Davy, who went for +_Consolations in Travel_, not to the inn, or the posting-house, but to +his library and his books. + + + +To DR. MOIR + +_A humourist to the last_ + + +[1845.] + +DEAR MOIR, + +God bless you and yours, and good-bye! I drop these few lines, as in a +bottle from a ship water-logged, and on the brink of foundering, being +in the last stage of dropsical debility; but though suffering in body, +serene in mind. So without reversing my union-jack, I await my last +lurch. Till which, believe me, dear Moir, + +Yours most truly. + + + +To SIR ROBERT PEEL + +_A farewell letter_ + + +Devonshire Lodge, New Finchley Road, [1845]. + +DEAR SIR, + +We are not to meet in the flesh. Given over by my physicians and by +myself, I am only kept alive by frequent instalments of mulled port +wine. In this extremity I feel a comfort, for which I cannot refrain +from again thanking you, with all the sincerity of a dying man,--and, +at the same time, bidding you a respectful farewell. + +Thank God my mind is composed and my reason undisturbed, but my race +as an author is run. My physical debility finds no tonic virtue in +a steel pen, otherwise I would have written one more paper--a +forewarning one--against an evil, or the danger of it, arising from +a literary movement in which I have had some share, a one-sided +humanity, opposite to that Catholic Shakespearian sympathy, which +felt with King as well as Peasant, and duly estimated the mortal +temptations of both stations. Certain classes at the poles of Society +are already too far asunder; it should be the duty of our writers to +draw them nearer by kindly attraction, not to aggravate the existing +repulsion, and place a wider moral gulf between Rich and Poor, with +Hate on the one side and Fear on the other. But I am too weak for this +task, the last I had set myself; it is death that stops my pen, you +see, and not the pension. + +God bless you, Sir, and prosper all your measures for the benefit of +my beloved country. + + + + +ROBERT BROWNING + +1812-1889 + + +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING + +1806-1861 + + + +To LEIGH HUNT + +_A joint epistle_ + + +Bagni di Lucca, 6 _Oct_. 1857. + +DEAR LEIGH HUNT, + +(It is hard to write, but you bade me do so; yet I had better say +'Master Hunt', as they used to call Webster or Ford.) A nine months' +silence after such a letter as yours seems too strange even to you +perhaps. So understand that you gave us more delight at once than we +could bear, that was the beginning of the waiting to recover spirit +and try and do one's feeling a little less injustice. But soon +followed unexpected sorrows to us and to you, and the expression of +even gratitude grew hard again. Certainly all this while your letter +has been laid before our very eyes, and we have waited for a brighter +day than ever came till we left Florence two months ago and more, then +we brought it to 'answer' among the chestnut trees; but immediately +on our arrival a friend was attacked by fever, and we were kept in +anxiety about him for six weeks. At last he recovered sufficiently to +leave for Florence, and (just think) our little boy became ill, +for the first time in his life, and gave us solicitude enough for a +fortnight: it is nothing now that it is over; he is going about now +almost as well as before, and we go away to-morrow, as I said. But I +will try and get one, at least, of the joys I came to find here, and +really write to you from this place, as I meant to do. '_I_'--you +know it is my wife that I write for, though you entangle and distract +either of us by the reverberations (so to speak) of pleasures over and +above the pleasure you give us. I intend to say, that you praise that +poem, and mix it up with praise of her very self, and then give it to +me directly, and then give it to _her_ with the pride you have just +given me, and then it somehow comes back to me increased so far, till +the effect is just as you probably intended. I wish my wife may know +you more: I wish you may see and know her more, but you cannot live +by her eleven years, as I have done--or yes, what cannot you do, being +the man, the poet you are? This last word, I dare think, I have a +right to say; I _have_ always venerated you as a poet; I believe your +poetry to be sure of its eventual reward; other people, not unlikely, +may feel like me, that there has been no need of getting into feverish +haste to cry out on what is; yet you, who wrote it, can leave it and +look at other poetry, and speak so of it: how well of you! + +I am still too near the production of _Aurora Leigh_ to be quite able +to see it all; my wife used to write it, and lay it down to hear our +child spell, or when a visitor came,--it was thrust under the cushion +then. At Paris, a year ago last March, she gave me the first six books +to read, I having never seen a line before. She then wrote the rest, +and transcribed them in London, where I read them also. I wish, in +one sense, that I had written and she had read it.... I shall commend +myself to you by telling you this. Indeed, the proper acknowledgement +of your letter seems to be that one should do something, not say +something. If you were here, I might quite naturally begin repeating +_Giaffar_ or _Solomon_, and the rest. You would see whether I was not +capable of getting all the good out of your praise. + +While I write, there is a strange thing that happened last night +impossible to get out of my thoughts. It may give you pain to tell you +of it, yet if with the pain come triumphant memories and hopes, as I +expect there will, you may choose the pain with them. What decides me +to tell it is that I heard you years ago allude to the destruction of +a volume of _Lamia, Isabella, &c., to be restored to you yet_--now you +remember; also, I think, of your putting my name near Shelley's in the +end of your letter, where you say 'since I lost Shelley'. Is it not +strange that I should have transcribed for the first time, last night, +the _Indian Serenade_ that, together with some verses of Metastasio, +accompanied that book? That I should have been reserved to tell +the present possessor of them--to whom they were given by Captain +Roberts--_what_ the poem _was, and that it had been published_! It is +preserved religiously; but the characters are all but illegible, and +I needed a good magnifying-glass to be quite sure of such of them as +remain. The end is that I have rescued three or four variations in the +reading of that divine little poem, as one reads it, at least, in the +_Posthumous Poems_. It is headed the _Indian_ _Serenade_ (not _Lines +to an Indian Air_). In the first stanza the seventh line is 'Hath led +me'; in the second, the third line is 'And the champak's odours fail'; +and the eighth, 'O! Beloved as thou art!' In the last stanza, the +seventh line was, 'Oh, press it to thine own again.' Are not all these +better readings? (even to the 'Hath' for 'Has'.) There, I give them +you as you gave us Milton's hair. If I have mistaken in telling you, +you will understand and forgive. + +I think I will ask my wife to say a word or two so I shall be sure +that you forgive. Now let my wife say the remainder. All I have +wished to do--know how little likely it was that I should succeed in +that--was to assure you of my pride and affectionate gratitude.--God +bless you ever, + +R.B. + + +Dear friend, I will say; for I feel it must be something as good as +friendship that can forgive and understand this silence, so much like +the veriest human kind of ingratitude. When I look back and think--all +this time after that letter, and not a sign made--I wonder. Yet, +if you knew! First of all, we were silent because we waited for +information which you seemed to desire.... Then there were sadder +reasons. Poor _Aurora_, that you were so more than kind to (oh, how +can I think of it?), has been steeped in tears, and some of them of a +very bitter sort. Your letter was addressed to my husband, you knowing +by your delicate true instinct where your praise would give most +pleasure; but I believe Robert had not the heart to write when I felt +that I should not have the spirits to add a word in the proper key. +When we came here from Florence a few months ago to get repose and +cheerfulness from the sight of the mountains, we said to ourselves +that we would speak to you at ease--instead of which the word was +taken from our own mouth, and we have done little but sit by sick beds +and meditate on gastric fevers. So disturbed we have been--so sad! our +darling precious child the last victim. To see him lying still on his +golden curls, with cheeks too scarlet to suit the poor patient eyes, +looking so frightfully like an angel! It was very hard. But this is +over, I do thank God, and we are on the point of carrying back our +treasure with us to Florence to-morrow, quite recovered, if a little +thinner and weaker, and the young voice as merry as ever. You are +aware that that child I am more proud of than twenty _Auroras_, even +after Leigh Hunt has praised them. He is eight years old, has never +been '_crammed_', but reads English, Italian, French, German, and +plays the piano--then, is the sweetest child! sweeter than he looks. +When he was ill, he said to me, 'You pet! don't be unhappy about +_me_. Think it's a boy in the street, and be a little sorry, but not +unhappy.' Who could not be unhappy, I wonder? + +I never saw your book called the _Religion of the Heart._ It's the +only book of yours I never saw, and I mean to wipe out that reproach +on the soonest day possible. I receive more dogmas, perhaps (my +'perhaps' being in the dark rather), than you do. I believe in the +divinity of Jesus Christ in the intensest sense--that he was God +absolutely. But for the rest, I am very unorthodox--about the spirit, +the flesh, and the devil, and if you would not let me sit by you, a +great many churchmen wouldn't; in fact, churches do all of them, as at +present constituted, seem too narrow and low to hold true Christianity +in its proximate developments. I, at least, cannot help believing them +so. + +My dear friend, can we dare, after our sins against you--can we dare +_wish_ for a letter from you sometimes? Ask, we dare not. May God +bless you. Even if you had not praised me and made me so grateful, +I should be grateful to you for three things--for your poetry (that +first), then for Milton's hair, and then for the memory I have of +our visit to you, when you sat in that chair and spoke so mildly and +deeply at once. + +Let me be ever affectionately yours, + +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. + + + + +CHARLOTTE BRONTË + +1816-1855 + + + +TO A FRIEND + +_Trials of a governess_ + + +_July_ 1839. + +I cannot procure ink, without going into the drawing-room, where I do +not wish to go.... I should have written to you long since, and told +you every detail of the utterly new scene into which I have lately +been cast, had I not been daily expecting a letter from yourself, and +wondering and lamenting that you did not write; for you will remember +it was your turn. I must not bother you too much with my sorrows, of +which, I fear, you have heard an exaggerated account. If you were near +me, perhaps I might be tempted to tell you all, to grow egotistical, +and pour out the long history of a private governess's trials and +crosses in her first situation. As it is, I will only ask you to +imagine the miseries of a reserved wretch like me, thrown at once into +the midst of a large family--proud as peacocks and wealthy as Jews--at +a time when they were particularly gay--when the house was filled with +company--all strangers--people whose faces I had never seen before. +In this state I had charge given me of a set of pampered, spoilt, +turbulent children, whom I was expected constantly to amuse, as well +as to instruct. I soon found that the constant demand on my stock +of animal spirits reduced them to the lowest state of exhaustion; at +times I felt--and, I suppose, seemed--depressed. To my astonishment, +I was taken to task on the subject by Mrs.----, with a sternness of +manner and a harshness of language scarcely credible; like a fool, I +cried most bitterly. I could not help it; my spirits quite failed me +at first. I thought I had done my best--strained every nerve to please +her; and to be treated in that way, merely because I was shy and +sometimes melancholy, was too bad. At first I was for giving all up +and going home. But, after a little reflection, I determined to summon +what energy I had, and to weather the storm. I said to myself, 'I have +never yet quitted a place without gaining a friend; adversity is +a good school; the poor are born to labour, and the dependent to +endure.' I resolved to be patient, to command my feelings, and to take +what came; the ordeal, I reflected, would not last many weeks, and I +trusted it would do me good. I recollected the fable of the willow and +the oak; I bent quietly, and now, I trust, the storm is blowing over +me. Mrs. ---- is generally considered an agreeable woman; so she is, I +doubt not, in general society. Her health is sound, her animal spirits +good, consequently she is cheerful in company; but oh! does this +compensate for the absence of every fine feeling--of every gentle and +delicate sentiment? She behaves somewhat more civilly to me now than +she did at first, and the children are a little more manageable; but +she does not know my character, and she does not wish to know it. +I have never had five minutes' conversation with her since I came, +except while she was scolding me. I have no wish to be pitied, except +by yourself; if I were talking to you I could tell you much more. + + + +To WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + +_Thanks for advice_ + + +[1840.] + +... Authors are generally very tenacious of their productions, but I +am not so much attached to this but that I can give it up without +much distress. No doubt, if I had gone on, I should have made quite +a Richardsonian concern of it.... I had materials in my head for +half-a-dozen volumes.... Of course, it is with considerable regret I +relinquish any scheme so charming as the one I have sketched. It is +very edifying and profitable to create a world out of your own brains, +and people it with inhabitants, who are so many Melchisedecs, and have +no father nor mother but your own imagination.... I am sorry I did +not exist fifty or sixty years ago, when the _Ladies' Magazine_ was +flourishing like a green bay tree. In that case, I make no doubt, my +aspirations after literary fame would have met with due encouragement, +and I should have had the pleasure of introducing Messrs. Percy and +West into the very best society, and recording all their sayings and +doings in double-columned close-printed pages.... I recollect, when I +was a child, getting hold of some antiquated volumes, and reading +them by stealth with the most exquisite pleasure. You give a correct +description of the patient Grisels of those days. My aunt was one of +them; and to this day she thinks the tales of the _Ladies' Magazine_ +infinitely superior to any trash of modern literature. So do I; for +I read them in childhood, and childhood has a very strong faculty of +admiration, but a very weak one of criticism.... I am pleased that +you cannot quite decide whether I am an attorney's clerk or a +novel-reading dressmaker. I will not help you at all in the discovery; +and as to my handwriting, or the ladylike touches in my style and +imagery, you must not draw any conclusion from that--I may employ an +amanuensis. Seriously, sir, I am very much obliged to you for your +kind and candid letter. I almost wonder you took the trouble to read +and notice the novelette of an anonymous scribe, who had not even the +manners to tell you whether he was a man or a woman, or whether his +'C.T.' meant Charles Timms or Charlotte Tomkins. + + + +TO A FRIEND + +_At school abroad_ + + +Brussels [c. _May_ 1842]. + +I was twenty-six years old a week or two since; and at this ripe time +of life I am a school-girl, and, on the whole, very happy in that +capacity. It felt very strange at first to submit to authority instead +of exercising it--to obey orders instead of giving them; but I like +that state of things. I returned to it with the same avidity that a +cow, that has long been kept on dry hay, returns to fresh grass. Don't +laugh at my simile. It is natural to me to submit, and very unnatural +to command. + +This is a large school, in which there are about forty externes, or +day-pupils, and twelve pensionnaires, or boarders. Madame Héger, +the head, is a lady of precisely the same cast of mind, degree of +cultivation, and quality of intellect as Miss ----. I think the severe +points are a little softened, because she has not been disappointed, +and consequently soured. In a word, she is a married instead of a +maiden lady. There are three teachers in the school--Mademoiselle +Blanche, Mademoiselle Sophie, and Mademoiselle Marie. The two first +have no particular character. One is an old maid, and the other will +be one. Mademoiselle Marie is talented and original, but of repulsive +and arbitrary manners, which have made the whole school, except myself +and Emily, her bitter enemies. No less than seven masters attend, to +teach the different branches of education--French, Drawing, Music, +Singing, Writing, Arithmetic, and German. All in the house are +Catholics except ourselves, one other girl, and the gouvernante +of Madame's children, an Englishwoman, in rank something between a +lady's-maid and a nursery governess. The difference in country and +religion makes a broad line of demarcation between us and all the +rest. We are completely isolated in the midst of numbers. Yet I think +I am never unhappy; my present life is so delightful, so congenial to +my own nature, compared to that of a governess. My time, constantly +occupied, passes too rapidly. Hitherto both Emily and I have had good +health, and therefore we have been able to work well. There is one +individual of whom I have not yet spoken--M. Héger, the husband of +Madame. He is professor of rhetoric, a man of power as to mind, but +very choleric and irritable in temperament. He is very angry with me +just at present, because I have written a translation which he chose +to stigmatize as '_peu correcte_'. He did not tell me so, but wrote +the word on the margin of my book, and asked, in brief stern phrase, +how it happened that my compositions were always better than my +translations? adding that the thing seemed to him inexplicable. The +fact is, some weeks ago, in a high-flown humour, he forbade me to use +either dictionary or grammar in translating the most difficult English +compositions into French. This makes the task rather arduous, and +compels me every now and then to introduce an English word, which +nearly plucks the eyes out of his head when he sees it. Emily and he +don't draw well together at all. Emily works like a horse, and she has +had great difficulties to contend with--far greater than I have +had. Indeed, those who come to a French school for instruction ought +previously to have acquired a considerable knowledge of the French +language, otherwise they will lose a great deal of time, for the +course of instruction is adapted to natives and not to foreigners; +and in these large establishments they will not change their ordinary +course for one or two strangers. The few private lessons that M. Héger +has vouchsafed to give us, are, I suppose, to be considered a great +favour; and I can perceive they have already excited much spite and +jealousy in the school. + +You will abuse this letter for being short and dreary, and there are a +hundred things which I want to tell you, but I have not time. Brussels +is a beautiful city. The Belgians hate the English. Their external +morality is more rigid than ours. To lace the stays without a +handkerchief on the neck is considered a disgusting piece of +indelicacy. + + + +To A FRIEND + +_Curates to tea_ + + +[1845.] + +You thought I refused you coldly, did you? It was a queer sort of +coldness, when I would have given my ears to say Yes, and was obliged +to say No. Matters, however, are now a little changed. Anne is come +home, and her presence certainly makes me feel more at liberty. Then, +if all be well, I will come and see you. Tell me only when I must +come. Mention the week and the day. Have the kindness also to answer +the following queries, if you can. How far is it from Leeds to +Sheffield? Can you give me a notion of the cost? Of course, when I +come, you will let me enjoy your own company in peace, and not drag me +out a-visiting. I have no desire at all to see your curate. I think he +must be like all the other curates I have seen; and they seem to me +a self-seeking, vain, empty race. At this blessed moment, we have no +less than three of them in Haworth parish--and there is not one to +mend another. The other day, they all three, accompanied by Mr. S., +dropped, or rather rushed, in unexpectedly to tea. It was Monday +(baking-day), and I was hot and tired; still, if they had behaved +quietly and decently, I would have served them out their tea in peace; +but they began glorifying themselves, and abusing Dissenters in such +a manner, that my temper lost its balance, and I pronounced a few +sentences sharply and rapidly, which struck them all dumb. Papa was +greatly horrified also, but I don't regret it. + + + +To GEORGE HENRY LEWES + +_Herself and Miss Austen_ + + +12 _Jan_. 1848. + +Dear Sir, + +I thank you then sincerely for your generous review; and it is with +the sense of double content I express my gratitude, because I am now +sure the tribute is not superfluous or obtrusive. You were not severe +on _Jane Eyre_; you were very lenient. I am glad you told me my faults +plainly in private, for in your public notice you touch on them so +lightly, I should perhaps have passed them over, thus indicated, with +too little reflection. + +I mean to observe your warning about being careful how I undertake new +works; my stock of materials is not abundant, but very slender; and +besides, neither my experience, my acquirements, nor my powers, are +sufficiently varied to justify my ever becoming a frequent writer. I +tell you this, because your article in _Fraser_ left in me an uneasy +impression that you were disposed to think better of the author of +_Jane Eyre_ than that individual deserved; and I would rather you had +a correct than a flattering opinion of me, even though I should never +see you. + +If I ever _do_ write another book, I think I will have nothing of what +you call 'melodrama'; I _think_ so, but I am not sure. I _think_, +too, I will endeavour to follow the counsel which shines out of +Miss Austen's 'mild eyes', 'to finish more and be more subdued'; but +neither am I sure of that. When authors write best, or at least, when +they write most fluently, an influence seems to waken in them, which +becomes their master--which will have its own way--putting out of view +all behests but its own, dictating certain words, and insisting +on their being used, whether vehement or measured in their nature; +new-moulding characters, giving unthought-of turns to incidents, +rejecting carefully-elaborated old ideas, and suddenly creating and +adopting new ones. + +Is it not so? And should we try to counteract this influence? Can we +indeed counteract it? + + * * * * * + +Why do you like Miss Austen so very much? I am puzzled on that point. +What induced you to say that you would have rather written _Pride and +Prejudice_, or _Tom Jones_, than any of the Waverley Novels? + +I had not seen _Pride and Prejudice_ till I read that sentence of +yours, and then I got the book. And what did I find? An accurate, +daguerreotyped portrait of a commonplace face; a carefully-fenced, +highly-cultivated garden, with neat borders and delicate flowers; but +no glance of a bright, vivid physiognomy, no open country, no fresh +air, no blue hill, no bonny beck. I should hardly like to live with +her ladies and gentlemen, in their elegant but confined houses. These +observations will probably irritate you, but I shall run the risk. + +Now I can understand admiration of George Sand; for though I never saw +any of her works which I admired throughout (even _Consuelo_, which +is the best, or the best that I have read, appears to me to couple +strange extravagance with wondrous excellence), yet she has a grasp of +mind, which, if I cannot fully comprehend, I can very deeply respect; +she is sagacious and profound;--Miss Austen is only shrewd and +observant. + +Am I wrong--or, were you hasty in what you said? If you have time, +I should be glad to hear further on this subject; if not, or if you +think the questions frivolous, do not trouble yourself to reply. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The argument continued_ + + +18 _Jan_. 1848. + +Dear Sir, + +I must write you one more note, though I had not intended to trouble +you again so soon. I have to agree with you, and to differ from you. + +You correct my crude remarks on the subject of the 'influence'; well, +I accept your definition of what the effects of that influence should +be; I recognize the wisdom of your rules for its regulation.... + +What a strange lecture comes next in your letter! You say I must +familiarize my mind with the fact, that 'Miss Austen is not a poetess, +has no "sentiment"' (you scornfully enclose the word in inverted +commas), 'no eloquence, none of the ravishing enthusiasm of +poetry',--and then you add, I _must_ 'learn to acknowledge her as _one +of the greatest artists, of the greatest painters of human character_, +and one of the writers with the nicest sense of means to an end that +ever lived'. + +The last point only will I ever acknowledge. + +Can there be a great artist without poetry? + +What I call--what I will bend to, as a great artist then--cannot +be destitute of the divine gift. But by _poetry_, I am sure, you +understand something different to what I do, as you do by 'sentiment'. +It is _poetry_, as I comprehend the word, which elevates that +masculine George Sand, and makes out of something coarse, something +Godlike. It is 'sentiment', in my sense of the term--sentiment +jealously hidden, but genuine, which extracts the venom from that +formidable Thackeray, and converts what might be corrosive poison into +purifying elixir. + +If Thackeray did not cherish in his large heart deep feeling for his +kind, he would delight to exterminate; as it is, I believe, he wishes +only to reform. Miss Austen being, as you say, without 'sentiment', +without _poetry_, maybe _is_ sensible, real (more _real_ than _true_), +but she cannot be great. + +I submit to your anger, which I have now excited (for have I not +questioned the perfection of your darling?); the storm may pass over +me. Nevertheless, I will, when I can (I do not know when that will be, +as I have no access to a circulating library), diligently peruse all +Miss Austen's works, as you recommend.... You must forgive me for +not always being able to think as you do, and still believe me, Yours +gratefully. + + + +TO A FRIEND + +_Illness and death of Emily Brontë_ + + +23 _Nov_. 1848. + +I told you Emily was ill, in my last letter. She has not rallied yet. +She is _very_ ill. I believe, if you were to see her, your impression +would be that there is no hope. A more hollow, wasted, pallid aspect +I have not beheld. The deep tight cough continues; the breathing after +the least exertion is a rapid pant; and these symptoms are accompanied +by pains in the chest and side. Her pulse, the only time she allowed +it to be felt, was found to beat 115 per minute. In this state she +resolutely refuses to see a doctor; she will give no explanation of +her feelings, she will scarcely allow her feelings to be alluded to. +Our position is, and has been for some weeks, exquisitely painful. God +only knows how all this is to terminate. More than once, I have been +forced boldly to regard the terrible event of her loss as possible, +and even probable. But nature shrinks from such thoughts. I think +Emily seems the nearest thing to my heart in the world. + + * * * * * + +10 _Dec_. + +I hardly know what to say to you about the subject which now interests +me the most keenly of anything in this world, for, in truth, I hardly +know what to think myself. Hope and fear fluctuate daily. The pain in +her side and chest is better; the cough, the shortness of breath, the +extreme emaciation, continue. I have endured, however, such tortures +of uncertainty on this subject that, at length, I could endure it +no longer; and as her repugnance to seeing a medical man continues +immutable,--as she declares 'no poisoning doctor' shall come near +her,--I have written, unknown to her, to an eminent physician in +London, giving as minute a statement of her case and symptoms as I +could draw up, and requesting an opinion. I expect an answer in a day +or two. I am thankful to say that my own health at present is very +tolerable. It is well such is the case; for Anne, with the best will +in the world to be useful, is really too delicate to do or bear much. +She too, at present, has frequent pains in the side. Papa is also +pretty well, though Emily's state renders him very anxious. + + * * * * * + +_[Tuesday.]_ + +I should have written to you before, if I had had one word of hope to +say; but I have not. She grows daily weaker. The physician's opinion +was expressed too obscurely to be of use. He sent some medicine, which +she would not take. Moments so dark as these I have never known. I +pray for God's support to us all. Hitherto He has granted it. + + * * * * * + +21 _Dec_. 1848. + +Emily suffers no more from pain or weakness now. She never will suffer +more in this world. She is gone, after a hard, short conflict. She +died on _Tuesday_, the very day I wrote to you. I thought it very +possible she might be with us still for weeks; and a few hours +afterwards, she was in eternity. Yes; there is no Emily in time or +on earth now. Yesterday we put her poor, wasted, mortal frame quietly +under the church pavement. We are very calm at present. Why should we +be otherwise? The anguish of seeing her suffer is over; the spectacle +of the pains of death is gone by; the funeral day is past. We feel she +is at peace. No need now to tremble for the hard frost and the keen +wind. Emily does not feel them. She died in a time of promise. We saw +her taken from life in its prime. But it is God's will, and the place +where she is gone is better than that she has left. + +God has sustained me, in a way that I marvel at, through such agony +as I had not conceived. I now look at Anne, and wish she were well and +strong; but she is neither; nor is papa. Could you now come to us for +a few days? I would not ask you to stay long. Write and tell me if you +could come next week, and by what train. I would try to send a gig for +you to Keighley. You will, I trust, find us tranquil. Try to come. I +never so much needed the consolation of a friend's presence. Pleasure, +of course, there would be none for you in the visit, except what your +kind heart would teach you to find in doing good to others. + + + +To MR. G. SMITH + +_Thackeray and 'Esmond'_ + + +14 _Feb_. 1852. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +It has been a great delight to me to read Mr. Thackeray's work; and +I so seldom now express my sense of kindness that, for once, you must +permit me, without rebuke, to thank you for a pleasure so rare and +special. Yet I am not going to praise either Mr. Thackeray or his +book. I have read, enjoyed, been interested, and after all, feel full +as much ire and sorrow as gratitude and admiration. And still one +can never lay down a book of his without the two last feelings having +their part, be the subject or treatment what it may. In the first half +of the book, what chiefly struck me was the wonderful manner in which +the writer throws himself into the spirit and letters of the times +whereof he treats; the allusions, the illustrations, the style, +all seem to me so masterly in their exact keeping, their harmonious +consistency, their nice, natural truth, their pure exemption from +exaggeration. No second-rate imitator can write in that way; no coarse +scene-painter can charm us with an allusion so delicate and perfect. +But what bitter satire, what relentless dissection of diseased +subjects! Well, and this, too, is right, or would be right, if +the savage surgeon did not seem so fiercely pleased with his work. +Thackeray likes to dissect an ulcer or an aneurism; he has pleasure +in putting his cruel knife or probe into quivering, living flesh. +Thackeray would not like all the world to be good; no great satirist +would like society to be perfect. + +As usual, he is unjust to women; quite unjust. There is hardly any +punishment he does not deserve for making Lady Castlewood peep through +a keyhole, listen at a door, and be jealous of a boy and a milkmaid. +Many other things I noticed that, for my part, grieved and exasperated +me as I read; but then, again, came passages so true, so deeply +thought, so tenderly felt, one could not help forgiving and +admiring.... + +But I wish he could be told not to care much for dwelling on the +political or religious intrigues of the times. Thackeray, in his +heart, does not value political or religious intrigues of any age or +date. He likes to show us human nature at home, as he himself daily +sees it; his wonderful observant faculty likes to be in action. In him +this faculty is a sort of captain and leader; and if ever any passage +in his writings lacks interest, it is when this master-faculty is for +a time thrust into a subordinate position. I think such is the case in +the former half of the present volume. Towards the middle, he throws +off restraint, becomes himself, and is strong to the close. Everything +now depends on the second and third volumes. If, in pith and interest, +they fall short of the first, a true success cannot ensue. If the +continuation be an improvement upon the commencement, if the stream +gather force as it rolls, Thackeray will triumph. Some people have +been in the habit of terming him the second writer of the day; it just +depends on himself whether or not these critics shall be justified in +their award. He need not be the second. God made him second to no man. +If I were he, I would show myself as I am, not as critics report me; +at any rate, I would do my best. Mr. Thackeray is easy and indolent, +and seldom cares to do his best. Thank you once more; and believe +me--&c. + + + +TO THE SAME + +'_Esmond' again_ + + +10 _Nov_. 1852. + +... I have read the third volume of _Esmond._ I found it both +entertaining and exciting to me; it seems to possess an impetus and +excitement beyond the other two,--that movement and brilliancy its +predecessors sometimes wanted, never fails here. In certain passages, +I thought Thackeray used all his powers; their grand, serious force +yielded a profound satisfaction. 'At last he puts forth his strength,' +I could not help saying to myself. No character in the book strikes +me as more masterly than that of Beatrix; its conception is fresh, +and its delineation vivid. It is peculiar; it has impressions of a +new kind--new at least, to me. Beatrix is not, in herself, all bad. So +much does she sometimes reveal of what is good and great as to suggest +this feeling--you would think she was urged by a Fate. You would think +that some antique doom presses on her house, and that once in so +many generations its brightest ornament was to become its greatest +disgrace. At times, what is good in her struggles against this +terrible destiny, but the Fate conquers. Beatrix cannot be an honest +woman and a good man's wife. She 'tries, and she _cannot_'. Proud, +beautiful, and sullied, she was born what she becomes, a king's +mistress. I know not whether you have seen the notice in the _Leader_; +I read it just after concluding the book. Can I be wrong in deeming +it a notice tame, cold, and insufficient? With all its professed +friendliness, it produced on me a most disheartening impression. +Surely, another sort of justice than this will be rendered to _Esmond_ +from other quarters. One acute remark of the critic is to the effect +that Blanche Amory and Beatrix are identical--sketched from the same +original! To me they are about as identical as a weazel and a royal +tigress of Bengal; both the latter are quadrupeds,--both the former, +women. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected English Letters (XV - XIX +Centuries), by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS *** + +***** This file should be named 12515-8.txt or 12515-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/5/1/12515/ + +Produced by Dave Morgan, Bill Hershey and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + + https://www.gutenberg.org/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/12515-8.zip b/old/12515-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..db34af5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12515-8.zip diff --git a/old/12515.txt b/old/12515.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c027435 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12515.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13915 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Selected English Letters (XV - XIX Centuries), by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Selected English Letters (XV - XIX Centuries) + +Author: Various + +Release Date: June 4, 2004 [EBook #12515] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS *** + + + + +Produced by Dave Morgan, Bill Hershey and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS + +(XV-XIX CENTURIES) + + +ARRANGED BY + +M. DUCKITT & H. WRAGG + + +1913. + + + + +PREFACE + + +This anthology has been compiled with rather mixed motives. First, +'all for our delight'--a rule that editors sometimes observe, and +occasionally acknowledge; then, with the desire to interest as large +a section of the public as may be. Here is a medley of gay, grave, +frivolous, homely, religious, sociable, refined, philosophic, and +feminine,--something for every mood, and for the proper study +of mankind. We do not hope to satisfy all critics, but we do not +anticipate that we shall please none. Our difficulty has been that +of choice. Many pleasant companions we have had to pass by; to strike +from our list many excellent letters. Those that remain are intended +to present as complete a portrait of the writer as space permits. +Occasionally it was some feature of the age, some nicety of manners, +some contrast in point of view, that obtained inclusion. + +Into such an anthology the ordinary reader prefers to dip at random, +looking for old friends or new faces, and has his reward. But if he +is resolute to read letters in chronological order, he will also, +we hope, find in our selection some trace of the development of the +Epistolary art, as, rising through earlier naiveties and formalities +to the grace and _bel air_ of the great Augustans, it slides into the +freer, if less dignified, utterance of an age which, startled by cries +of 'Equality' at its birth, has concerned itself less with form than +with individuality and sincerity of expression. + +Three letters are included of which the originals were penned +in Latin. In a few cases the spelling and punctuation have been +modernized. + +Our best thanks are due to Mr. J.C. Smith, whose kind criticism and +inspiring suggestions have been of inestimable service to us in the +preparation of this work. + +M.D. H.W. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +SIR THOMAS MORE, 1478-1535-- +To Margaret Roper. 'Wyth a cole' from prison. + +MARGARET ROPER, 1505-1544-- +To Sir Thomas More. Reply to the above. + +ROGER ASCHAM, 1515-1568-- +To Lady Jane Grey. A most accomplished maiden. +To Lady Clarke. An offer of assistance. + +FRANCIS BACON, 1561-1626-- +To Sir Thomas Bodley. With a copy of his book. + +SIR THOMAS BROWNE, 1605-1682-- +To his son Thomas. Fatherly commendations. +To his son Edward. Centenarians. + +JOHN MILTON, 1608-1674-- +To a Cambridge friend. The choice of a profession. +To Leonard Philaras. The blind poet. + +JOHN EVELYN, 1620-1706-- +To Samuel Pepys. In retirement at Wotton. +To the same. An old man's occupations. + +DAME DOROTHY BROWNE, 1621-1685-- +To her daughter in London. Three interesting +postscripts. + +GEORGE, LORD BERKELEY, 1628-1698-- +To Samuel Pepys. Honourable acquittal. + +DOROTHY OSBORNE, 1628-1698-- +To Sir William Temple. Passing the time. +To the same. Another pretender. +To the same. A disappointing preacher. +To the same. The ideal husband. +To the same. The growth of friendship. +To the same. Wilful woman. + +KATHARINE PHILIPS, 1631-1664-- +To the Honourable Berenice. Yielding to opinion. + +JOHN LOCKE, 1632-1704-- +To William Molyneux. A philosopher's confidences. +To Dr. Molyneux. True friendship. + +SAMUEL PEPYS, 1633-1703-- +To George, Lord Berkeley. An explanation. +To Mrs. Steward. A wedding in the City. +To John Evelyn. Reply to an old friend. + +JONATHAN SWIFT, 1667-1745-- +To Stella. The Dean at home. +To Lord Treasurer Oxford. The Dean makes his bow. +To Dr. Sheridan. News from the country. +To Alexander Pope. Mostly about _Gulliver_. +To John Gay. Enquiries into Mr. Gay's pursuits. + +JOSEPH ADDISON, 1672-1719-- +To Alexander Pope. Translation of Homer. +To Mr. Secretary Craggs. A bequest. + +SIR RICHARD STEELE, 1672-1729-- +To Mary Scurlock. An explicit declaration. +To the same. A pleasing transport. +To the same. A lover betrays himself. +To his wife. He proposes an outing. +To the same. His greatest affliction. +To the same. Four characteristic notes. +To the same. The natural slave of beauty. + +JOHN GAY, 1685-1732-- +To Jonathan Swift. Concerning _Gulliver_. + +ALEXANDER POPE, 1688-1744-- +To William Wycherley. Dryden and his critics. +To Joseph Addison. A few thoughts from a rambling head. +To Jonathan Swift. Friends to posterity. +To the same. A farming friend, and _The Dunciad_. +To the same. An invitation to England. + +SAMUEL RICHARDSON, 1689-1761-- +To Miss Mulso. A discussion on love. + +LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU, 1689-1762-- +To the Countess of Mar. The Viennese court. +To Miss Sarah Chiswell. Ingrafting for small-pox. +To the Countess of Bristol. The Grand Signior a slave. +To the Countess of Mar. The Grand Vizier's lady. +To the Countess of Bute. Her grand-daughter's education. +To the same. Fielding and Steele. + +PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE, EARL OF CHESTERFIELD, 1694-1773-- +To his son. Dancing. +To the same. A good enunciation. +To the same. Keeping accounts. +To the same. A father's example. +To the same. Public speaking. +To the same. The new Earl of Chatham. + +SAMUEL JOHNSON, 1709-1784-- +To Bonnet Langton. Postponement of a visit. +To Miss Porter. A mother's death. +To Joseph Baretti. A letter of counsel. +To Mrs. Thrale. Travel in Scotland. +To the Earl of Chesterfield. Patronage. +To James Boswell. A silent friend. +To Mrs. Thrale. A great man's fortitude. + +LAURENCE STERNE, 1713-1768-- +To Miss Lumley. The disconsolate lover. +To David Garrick. Le Chevalier Shandy. +To Mr. Foley. An adventure on the road. + +THOMAS GRAY, 1716-1771-- +To Richard West. Scenery at Tivoli. +To the same. A poet's melancholy. +To Horace Walpole. The fate of Selima. +To the same. Publication of the _Elegy_. +To the same. At Burnham. +To the Rev. William Mason. The Laureateship. +To Dr. Wharton. A holiday in Kent. + +HORACE WALPOLE, 1717-1797-- +To Richard West. Floods in the Arno. +To Richard Bentley. Pictures, and Garrick. +To Lord Lyttelton. Gray's Odes. +To George Montagu. At Lady Suffolk's. +To Lady Hervey. A quiet life. +To the Rev. William Cole. Gray's death. +To the Rev. William Mason. The quarrel with Gray. +To the Countess of Upper-Ossory. Fashionable intelligence. +To the Rev. William Cole. Antiquaries and authors. +To the Miss Berrys. Their first meeting. + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 1728-1774-- +To his mother. At Cork. +To Robert Bryanton. In Scotland. +To his uncle Contarine. In Holland. +To his brother Henry. Family matters. + +WILLIAM COWPER, 1731-1800-- +To the Rev. John Newton. Escapade of Puss. +To the Rev. William Unwin. A laugh that hurts nobody. +To the Rev. John Newton. Village politicians. +To the same. Village justice. +To the same. A candidate's visit. +To Lady Hesketh. An acquaintance reopened. +To the same. The kindliness of thanks. +To the same. Arrival of the desk. +To the same. Anticipations of a visit. +To the same. Commissions and thanks. +To Mrs. Bodham. His mother's portrait. + +EDMUND BURKE, 1729-1797-- +To Matthew Smith. First impressions of London. +To James Barry. A friend's infirmities. +To Lord Auckland. An old stag at bay. +To Mary Leadbeater. His last letter. + +EDWARD GIBBON, 1737-1794-- +To Mrs. Porten. His daily life. +To Lord Sheffield. A great work. + +FRANCES D'ARBLAY, 1752-1840-- +To Susan Burney. An excited Unknown. +To Samuel Crisp. Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson. +To Mrs. Lock. A royal commission. + +GEORGE CRABBE, 1754-1832-- +To Mary Leadbeater. The only survivors. +To the same. Comparisons. + +WILLIAM BLAKE, 1757-1827-- +To John Flaxman. Friends 'from eternity'. +To Thomas Butts. Trouble in the path. +To the same. The wonderful poem. +To the same. The poet and William Hayley. + +MARY LEADBEATER, 1758-1826-- +To Edmund Burke. Reply to his last letter. +To George Crabbe. She writes to remind him. + +ROBERT BURNS, 1759-1796-- +To Miss Chalmers. Marriage with Jean. +To Mr. R. Ainslie. A gauger. +To Francis Grose. Witch tales. + +WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 1770-1850-- +To Sir George Beaumont. A brother's character. +To Walter Scott. Dryden. +To Lady Beaumont. The destiny of his poems. +To Sir George Beaumont. The language of poetry. + +SIR WALTER SCOTT, 1771-1832-- +To his mother. Marriage with Miss Carpenter. +To Miss Seward. _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_. +To Lady Louisa Stuart. An amiable blue-stocking. +To Robert Southey. Congratulations. +To J.B.S. Morritt. A small anonymous sort of a novel. +To the same. Acceptance of a baronetcy. +To Lord Montagu. Prince Leopold's visit. +To Daniel Terry. Progress at Abbotsford. +To J.B.S. Morritt. A brave face to the world. +To Maria Edgeworth. Time's revenges. + +SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, 1772-1834-- +To Charles Lamb. A sympathetic reply. +To Joseph Cottle. Literary adventurers. +To Josiah Wade. A public example. +To Thomas Allsop. Himself and his detractors. +To the same. The Great Work described. +To the same. Reminiscences. + +ROBERT SOUTHEY, 1774-1843-- +To Joseph Cottle. Question of copyrights. +To John May. Waterloo. +To Henry Taylor. Anastasius Hope. +To Edward Moxon. Recollections of the Lambs. + +CHARLES LAMB, 1775-1834-- +To Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Temporary frenzy. +To the same. A friend in need. +To the same. The tragedy. +To William Wordsworth. The delights of London. +To Thomas Manning. At the Lakes. +To the same. Dissuasion from Tartary. +To Mrs. Wordsworth. Friends' importunities. +To Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The famous pigling. +To Bernard Barton. A blessing in disguise. +To the same. A cold. + +WILLIAM HAZLITT, 1778-1830-- +To Miss Sarah Stoddart. A love-letter. +To his son. Marriage, and the choice of a profession. +To Charles Cowden Clarke. The _Life of Napoleon_. + +LEIGH HUNT, 1784-1859-- +To Joseph Severn. A belated letter. +To Percy Bysshe Shelley. Outpourings of gratitude. +To Horace Smith. Shelley's death. +To Mrs. Procter. Accepting an invitation. +To a friend. Offence and punishment. + +GEORGE GORDON NOEL, LORD BYRON, 1788-1824-- +To Mr. Hodgson. Travel in Portugal. +To Thomas Moore. Announces his engagement. +To John Murray. No bid for sweet voices. +To the same. The cemetery at Bologna. +To the same. In rebellious mood. +To Percy Bysshe Shelley. A trio of poets. +To Lady Byron. A plain statement of facts. +To Mr. Barff. Sympathy with the Greeks. + +PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, 1792-1822-- +To T.J. Hogg. His first marriage. +To William Godwin. An introduction. +To Thomas Hookham. A subscription for Hunt. +To Mr. Ollier. An article by Southey. +To Mrs. Hunt. Keats and some others. +To Leigh Hunt. A literary collaboration. + +JOHN KEATS, 1795-1821-- +To John Hamilton Reynolds. Burns's cottage. +To Richard Woodhouse. The poetic character. +To Percy Bysshe Shelley. Returning advice. +To Charles Brown. A despairing cry. + +THOMAS HOOD, 1799-1845-- +To Charles Dickens. _American Notes_. +To the _Manchester Athenaeum_. The uses of literature. +To Dr. Moir. A humourist to the last. +To Sir Robert Peel. A farewell letter. + +ROBERT BROWNING, 1812-1889, and +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING, 1806-1861-- +To Leigh Hunt. A joint epistle. + +CHARLOTTE BRONTE, 1816-1855-- +To a friend. Trials of a governess. +To William Wordsworth. Thanks for advice. +To a friend. At school abroad. +To a friend. Curates to tea. +To George Henry Lewes. Herself and Miss Austen. +To the same. The argument continued. +To a friend. Illness and death of Emily Bronte. +To Mr. G. Smith. Thackeray and _Esmond_ +To the same. _Esmond_ again. + + + + +SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS + + + + +SIR THOMAS MORE + +1478-1535 + + + +To MARGARET ROPER + +_'Wyth a cole' from prison_ + + +[1535.] + +Myne owne good doughter, our lorde be thanked I am in good helthe of +bodye, and in good quiet of minde: and of worldly thynges I no more +desyer then I have. I beseche hym make you all mery in the hope of +heaven. And such thynges as I somewhat longed to talke with you all, +concerning the worlde to come, our Lord put theim into your myndes, as +I trust he dothe, and better to, by his holy spirite: who blesse +you and preserve you all. Written wyth a cole by your tender loving +father, who in his pore prayers forgetteth none of you all, nor +your babes, nor your nurses, nor your good husbandes, nor your good +husbandes shrewde wyves, nor your fathers shrewde wyfe neither, nor +our other frendes. And thus fare ye hartely well for lack of paper. + +THOMAS MORE, knight. + +Our Lorde kepe me continuallye true, faithfull and playne, to the +contrarye whereof I beseche hym hartelye never to suffer me live. For +as for longe life (as I have often tolde the Megge) I neyther looke +for, nor long for, but am well content to goe, yf God call me hence +to morowe. And I thanke our lorde, I knowe no person living, that I +woulde had one philippe for my sake: of whiche minde I am more gladde +then of all the worlde. + +Recommend me to your shrewde wil, and mine other sonnes, and to John +Harris my frende, and your selfe knoweth to whome els, and to my +shrewde wife above all, and God preserve you all and make and kepe you +his servantes all. + + + + +MARGARET ROPER + +1505-1544 + + + +TO SIR THOMAS MORE + +_Reply to the above_ + + +[1534.] + +Myne owne moste entierelye beloved father, I thynke my self never +hable to geve you sufficiente thankes, for the inestimable coumforte +my poore hearte received in the readyng of youre moste lovynge and +godlye letter, representing to me, the cleare shynyng bryghtenesse +of youre soule, the pure temple of the holy spirite of God, which I +doubte not shall perpetuallye reste in you and you in hym. Father, if +all the worlde hadde bene geven to me, as I be saved it hadde bene +a small pleasure, in comparison of the pleasure I conceived of the +treasure of youre letter, whiche thoughe it were written with a cole, +is woorthye in myne opinion to be wrytten in letters of golde. Father, +what moved them to shytte you uppe againe, we can nothynge heare. +But surelye I coniecture that when they considered that you wer of so +temperate mind, that you were contented to abyde there all your lyfe +with suche libertie, they thought it wer never possible to enclyne you +to theyr will, excepte it were by restrayning you from the church, and +the companye of my good mother youre deare wyfe and us youre chyldren +and bedesfolke. But father this chaunce was not straunge to you. For +I shal not forgeat howe you tolde us when we were with you in the +gardeyne, that these thinges wer like ynoughe to chaunce you shortlye +after. Father I have manye tymes rehearsed to myne owne coumfort and +dyvers others, your fashyon and wordes ye hadde to us when we were +laste with you: for which I trust by the grace of god to be the better +while I live, and when I am departed oute of this frayle life, which +I praye God I maye passe and ende in his true obedient service, after +the wholesome counsayle and fruitful exaumple of living I have had +(good father) of you, whom I pray god geve me grace to folowe: which +I shal the better thorow the assistaunce of your devoute prayers, +the speciall staye of my frayltie. Father I am sory I have no lenger +laysure at this time to talke with you, the chief comfort of my life, +I trust to have occasion to write again shortly. I trust I have your +daily prayer and blessing. + +Your most loving obedient daughter and bedeswoma Margaret Roper, which +daily and howrely is boude to pray for you, for whom she prayeth +in this wise, that our lord of his infinite mercye geve you of hys +hevenly comfort, and so to assist you with hys speciall grace, that ye +never in any thing declyne from hys blessed will, but live and dye his +true obedient servaunt. Amen. + + + + +ROGER ASCHAM + +1515-1568 + + + +To Lady Jane Grey + +_A most accomplished maiden_ + + +Augsberg, 18 _Jan_. 1551. + +Most Illustrious Lady, + +In this long travel of mine, I have passed over wide tracts of +country, and seen the largest cities, I have studied the customs, +institutes, laws, and religion of many men and diverse nations, with +as much diligence as I was able: but in all this variety of subjects, +nothing has caused in me so much wonder as my having fallen upon you +last summer, a maiden of noble birth, and that too in the absence of +your tutor, in the hall of your most noble family, and at a time +when others, both men and women, give themselves up to hunting and +pleasures, you, a divine maiden, reading carefully in Greek the +_Phaedo_ of the divine Plato; and happier in being so occupied than +because you derive your birth, both on your father's side, and on your +mother's, from kings and queens! Go on then, most accomplished maiden, +to bring honour on your country, happiness on your parents, glory to +yourself, credit to your tutor, congratulation to all your friends, +and the greatest admiration to all strangers! + +O happy Elmar in having such a pupil, and happier still you, in having +such a tutor ... I ask two things of you, my dear Elmar, for I suppose +you will read this letter, that you will persuade the Lady Jane to +write me a letter in Greek as soon as possible; for she promised she +would do so ... I have also lately written to John Sturm, and told him +that she had promised. Take care that I get a letter soon from her as +well as from you. It is a long way for letters to come, but John Hales +will be a most convenient letter-carrier and bring them safely.... + + + +To LADY CLARKE + +_An offer of assistance_ + + +[London], 15 _Jan_. 1554. + +Your remarkable love of virtue and zeal for learning, most illustrious +lady, joined with such talents and perseverance, are worthy of great +praise in themselves, and greater still because you are a woman, but +greatest of all because you are a lady of the court; where there are +many other occupations for ladies, besides learning, and many other +pleasures besides the practice of the virtues. This double praise +is further enhanced by the two patterns that you have proposed to +yourself to follow, the one furnished you by the court, the other +by your family. I mean our illustrious queen Mary, and your noble +grandfather, Thomas More--a man whose virtues go to raise England +above all other nations.... + +I am led to write thus not altogether by my admiration of you, but +partly by my own wish and more from the nature of my own office. It +was I who was invited some years ago from the University of Cambridge +by your mother, Margaret Roper--a lady worthy of her great father, +and of you her daughter--to the house of your kinsman, Lord Giles +Alington, to teach you and her other children the Greek and Latin +tongues; but at that time no offers could induce me to leave the +University. It is sweet to me to bear in mind this request of your +mother's, and I now not only remind you thereof, but would offer you, +now that I am at court, if not to fulfil her wishes, yet to do my +best to fulfil them, were it not that you have so much learning +in yourself, and also the aid of those two learned men, Cole and +Christopherson, so that you need no help from me, unless in their +absence you make use of my assistance, and if you like, abuse it. + +I write thus not because of any talents I possess (for I know they are +very small) but because of my will (which I know is very great), and +because of the opportunity long wished for and now granted me. For +by favour of that great bishop the Lord Stephen of Winchester, I have +been fetched away from the University to serve our illustrious queen +at court, and that too in such a post, that I can there follow the +same mode of life for the discharge of my duties as I did at the +University for study. My office is to write Latin letters for the +queen, and I hope I shall fulfil that office, if not with ability, +yet faithfully, diligently, and unblameably ... Farewell, most +accomplished lady! + + + + +SIR FRANCIS BACON + +1561-1626 + + + +To Sir Thomas Bodley + +_With a copy of his book_ + + +[_Nov_. 1605.] + +SIR, + +I think no man may more truly say with the Psalm _Multum incola +fuit anima mea_, than myself. For I do confess, since I was of any +understanding, my mind hath in effect been absent from that I have +done; and in absence are many errors which I do willingly acknowledge; +and amongst the rest this great one that led the rest; that knowing +myself by inward calling to be fitter to hold a book than to play a +part, I have led my life in civil causes; for which I was not very fit +by nature, and more unfit by the preoccupation of my mind. Therefore +calling myself home, I have now for a time enjoyed myself; whereof +likewise I desire to make the world partaker. My labours (if I may so +term that which was the comfort of my other labours) I have dedicated +to the King; desirous, if there be any good in them, it may be as the +fat of a sacrifice, incensed to his honour: and the second copy I have +sent unto you, not only in good affection, but in a kind of congruity, +in regard of your great and rare desert of learning. For books are the +shrines where the saint is, or is believed to be; and you having built +an Ark to save learning from deluge, deserve propriety in any new +instrument or engine, whereby learning should be improved or advanced. + + + + +SIR THOMAS BROWNE + +1605-1682 + + + +To HIS SON THOMAS + +_Fatherly commendations_ + + +[c. 1667.] + +I Receaved yours, and would not deferre to send vnto you before you +sayled, which I hope will come vnto you; for in this wind, neither can +Reare-admirall Kempthorne come to you, nor you beginne your voyage. +I am glad you like Lucan so well. I wish more military men could read +him; in this passage you mention, there are noble straynes; and such +as may well affect generous minds. Butt I hope you are more taken with +the verses then the subject, and rather embrace the expression then +the example. And this I the rather hint unto you, because the like, +though in another waye, is sometimes practised in the king's shipps, +when, in desperate cases, they blowe up the same. For though I know +you are sober and considerative, yet knowing you also to be of great +resolution; and having also heard from ocular testimonies with what +vndaunted and persevering courage you have demeaned yourself in great +difficulties; and knowing your captaine to bee a stout and resolute +man; and with all the cordiall friendshippe that is between you; I +cannot omitt my earnest prayers vnto God to deliver you from such a +temptation. Hee that goes to warre must patiently submitt vnto the +various accidents thereof. To bee made prisoner by an vnequall and +overruling power, after a due resistance, is no disparagement; butt +upon a carelesse surprizall or faynt opposition; and you have so good +a memorie that you cannot forgett many examples thereof, even of the +worthiest commanders in your beloved Plutark. God hath given you a +stout, butt a generous and mercifull heart withall; and in all your +life you could never behold any person in miserie butt with compassion +and relief; which hath been notable in you from a child: so have you +layd up a good foundation for God's mercy; and, if such a disaster +should happen, Hee will, without doubt, mercifully remember you. How +euer, let God that brought you in the world in his owne good time, +lead you through it; and in his owne season bring you out of it; and +without such wayes as are displeasing vnto him. When you are at Cales, +see if you can get a box of the Jesuits' powder at easier rate, and +bring it in the bark, not in powder. I am glad you haue receaued the +bill of exchange for Cales; if you should find occasion to make vse +thereof. Enquire farther at Tangier of the minerall water you told +mee, which was neere the towne, and whereof many made use. Take notice +of such plants as you meet with, either upon the Spanish or African +coast; and if you knowe them not, putt some leaves into a booke, +though carelessely, and not with that neatenesse as in your booke at +Norwich. Enquire after any one who hath been at Fez; and learne what +you can of the present state of that place, which hath been so famous +in the description of Leo and others. The mercifull providence of God +go with you. _Impellant animae lintea Thraciae_. + + + +TO HIS SON EDWARD + +_Centenarians_ + + +15 _Dec_. [1679.] + +DEARE SONNE, + +Some thinck that great age superannuates persons from the vse of +physicall meanes, or that at a hundred yeares of age 'tis either a +folly or a shame to vse meanes to liue longer, and yet I haue knowne +many send to mee for their seuerall troubles at a hundred yeares of +age, and this day a poore woeman being a hundred and three yeares +and a weeke old sent to mee to giue her some ease of the colick. The +_macrobii_ and long liuers which I haue knowne heere haue been of +the meaner and poorer sort of people. Tho. Parrot was butt a meane or +rather poore man. Your brother Thomas gaue two pence a weeke to John +More, a scauenger, who dyed in the hundred and second yeare of his +life; and 'twas taken the more notice of that the father of Sir John +Shawe, who marryed my Lady Killmorey, and liueth in London, I say that +his father, who had been a vintner, liued a hundred and two yeares, or +neere it, and dyed about a yeere agoe. God send us to number our dayes +and fitt ourselves for a better world. + + + + +JOHN MILTON + +1608-1674 + + + +TO A CAMBRIDGE FRIEND + +_The choice of a profession_ + + +[1631-2.] + +SIR, + +Besides that in sundry other respects I must acknowledge me to profit +by you whenever we meet, you are often to me, and were yesterday +especially, as a good watchman to admonish that the hours of the night +pass on (for so I call my life, as yet obscure and unserviceable to +mankind), and that the day with me is at hand, wherein Christ commands +all to labour, while there is light. Which because I am persuaded you +do to no other purpose than out of a true desire that God should be +honoured in every one, I therefore think myself bound, though unasked, +to give you account, as oft as occasion is, of this my tardy moving, +according to the precept of my conscience, which I firmly trust is not +without God. Yet now I will not strain for any set apology, but only +refer myself to what my mind shall have at any time to declare herself +at her best ease. + +But if you think, as you said, that too much love of learning is in +fault, and that I have given up myself to dream away my years in the +arms of studious retirement, like Endymion with the moon, as the tale +of Latmus goes; yet consider that if it were no more but the mere +love of learning--whether it proceed from a principle bad, good, +or natural--it could not have held out thus long against so strong +opposition on the other side of every kind. For, if it be bad, why +should not all the fond hopes that forward youth and vanity are fledge +with, together with gain, pride, and ambition, call me forward more +powerfully than a poor, regardless, and unprofitable sin of curiosity +should be able to withhold me; whereby a man cuts himself off from all +action, and becomes the most helpless, pusillanimous, and unweaponed +creature in the world, the most unfit and unable to do that which +all mortals most aspire to--either to be useful to his friends or to +offend his enemies? Or, if it be to be thought a natural proneness, +there is against that a much more potent inclination inbred, which +about this time of a man's life solicits most--the desire of house and +family of his own; to which nothing is esteemed more helpful than the +early entering into credible employment, and nothing more hindering +than this affected solitariness. And though this were enough, yet +there is to this another act, if not of pure, yet of refined nature, +no less available to dissuade prolonged obscurity--a desire of honour +and repute and immortal fame, seated in the breast of every true +scholar; which all make haste to by the readiest ways of publishing +and divulging conceived merits--as well those that shall, as those +that never shall, obtain it. Nature, therefore, would presently work +the more prevalent way, if there were nothing but this inferior bent +of herself to restrain her. Lastly, the love of learning, as it is the +pursuit of something good, it would sooner follow the more excellent +and supreme good known and presented, and so be quickly diverted from +the empty and fantastic chase of shadows and notions, to the solid +good flowing from due and timely obedience to that command in the +Gospel set out by the terrible seasing of him that hid the talent. + +It is more probable, therefore, that not the endless delight of +speculation, but this very consideration of that great commandment, +does not press forward, as soon as many do, to undergo, but keeps +off, with a sacred reverence and religious advisement how _best_ to +undergo--not taking thought of being _late_, so it give advantage +to be more _fit_; for those that were latest lost nothing, when the +master of the vineyard came to give each one his hire. And here I am +come to a stream-head, copious enough to disburden itself, like Nilus, +at seven mouths into an ocean. But then I should also run into a +reciprocal contradiction of ebbing and flowing at once, and do that +which I excuse myself for not doing--'preach and not preach.' Yet, +that you may see that I am something suspicious of myself, and do take +notice of a certain belatedness in me, I am the bolder to send you +some of my nightward thoughts some while since, because they come in +not altogether unfitly, made up in a Petrarchian stanza, which I told +you of: + + How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, + Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year! + My hasting days fly on with full career, + But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. + Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth + That I to manhood am arrived so near; + And inward ripeness doth much less appear + That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th. + Yet be it less, or more, or soon, or slow, + It shall be still in strictest measure even + To that same lot, however mean or high, + Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven. + All is, if I have grace to use it so, + As ever in my great taskmaster's eye. + +By this I believe you may well repent of having made mention at all of +this matter; for, if I have not all this while won you to this, I +have certainly wearied you of it. This, therefore, alone may be a +sufficient reason for me to keep me as I am, lest having thus tired +you singly, I should deal worse with, a whole congregation, and spoil +all the patience of a parish; for I myself do not only see my own +tediousness, but now grow offended with it, that has hindered me thus +long from coming to the last and best _period_ of my letter, and +that which must now chiefly work my pardon, that I am your true and +unfeigned _friend_. + + + +TO LEONARD PHILARAS, THE ATHENIAN + +_The blind poet_[1] + + +Westminster, 28 _Sept_. 1654. + +I have always been devotedly attached to the literature of Greece, and +particularly to that of your Athens; and have never ceased to cherish +the persuasion that that city would one day make me ample recompense +for the warmth of my regard. The ancient genius of your renowned +country has favoured the completion of my prophecy in presenting me +with your friendship and esteem. Though I was known to you only by my +writings, and we were removed to such a distance from each other, you +most courteously addressed me by letter; and when you unexpectedly +came to London, and saw me who could no longer see, my affliction, +which causes none to regard me with greater admiration, and perhaps +many even with feelings of contempt, excited your tenderest sympathy +and concern. You would not suffer me to abandon the hope of recovering +my sight; and informed me you had an intimate friend at Paris, Dr. +Thevenot, who was particularly celebrated in disorders of the eyes, +whom you would consult about mine, if I would enable you to lay before +him the causes and the symptoms of the complaint. I will do what you +desire, lest I should seem to reject that aid which perhaps may be +offered me by Heaven. It is now, I think, about ten years since I +perceived my vision to grow weak and dull; and at the same time I +was troubled with pain in my kidneys and bowels, accompanied with +flatulency. In the morning, if I began to read, as was my custom, +my eyes instantly ached intensely, but were refreshed after a little +corporeal exercise. The candle which I looked at, seemed as it were +encircled with a rainbow. Not long after the sight in the left part of +the left eye (which I lost some years before the other) became quite +obscured, and prevented me from discerning any object on that +side. The sight in my other eye has now been gradually and sensibly +vanishing away for about three years; some months before it had +entirely perished, though I stood motionless, everything which I +looked at seemed in motion to and fro. A stiff cloudy vapour seemed +to have settled on my forehead and temples, which usually occasions a +sort of somnolent pressure upon my eyes, and particularly from dinner +till the evening. So that I often recollect what is said of the poet +Phineas in the _Argonautics_: + + A stupor deep his cloudy temples bound, + And when he walked he seemed as whirling round, + Or in a feeble trance he speechless lay. + +I ought not to omit that while I had any sight left, as soon as I lay +down on my bed and turned on either side, a flood of light used to +gush from my closed eyelids. Then, as my sight became daily more +impaired, the colours became more faint and were emitted with a +certain inward crackling sound; but at present, every species of +illumination being, as it were, extinguished, there is diffused around +me nothing but darkness, or darkness mingled and streaked with an +ashy brown. Yet the darkness in which I am perpetually immersed seems +always, both by night and day, to approach nearer to white than black; +and when the eye is rolling in its socket, it admits a little particle +of light, as through a chink. And though your physician may kindle +a small ray of hope, yet I make up my mind to the malady as quite +incurable; and I often reflect, that as the wise man admonishes, +days of darkness are destined to each of us, the darkness which I +experience, less oppressive than that of the tomb, is, owing to the +singular goodness of the Deity, passed amid the pursuits of literature +and the cheering salutations of friendship. But if, as is written, +'Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth +from the mouth of God,' why may not any one acquiesce in the privation +of his sight, when God has so amply furnished his mind and his +conscience with eyes? While He so tenderly provides for me, while +He so graciously leads me by the hand, and conducts me on the way, I +will, since it is His pleasure, rather rejoice than repine at being +blind. And, my dear Philaras, whatever may be the event, I wish you +adieu with no less courage and composure than if I had the eyes of a +lynx. + +[Footnote 1: From the Latin.] + + + + +JOHN EVELYN + +1620-1706 + + + +To SAMUEL PEPYS + +_In retirement at Wotton_ + + +Wotton, 2 _Aug_. 1692. + +I have been philosophizing and world-despising in the solitudes of +this place, whither I am retired to pass and mourn the absence of my +worthiest friend. Here is wood and water, meadows and mountains, the +Dryads and Hamadryads; but here's no Mr. Pepys, no Dr. Gale. Nothing +of all the cheer in the parlour that I taste; all's insipid, and all +will be so to me, till I see and enjoy you again. I long to know what +you do, and what you think, because I am certain you do both what +is worthy the knowing and imitation. On Monday next will Mr. Bentley +resume his lecture, I think, at Bow Church: I fear I shall hardly +get through this wilderness by that time. Pray give him your wonted +confidence if you can, and tell him how unhappily I am entangled. I +hope, however, to get home within this fortnight, and about the end of +October to my hyemation in Dover Street. My son is gone with the Lord +Lieutenant, and our new relation, Sir Cyril Wych, into Ireland: I look +they should return wondrous statesmen, or else they had as well have +stayed at home. I am here with Boccalini, and Erasmus's _Praise of +Folly_, and look down upon the world with wondrous contempt, when +I consider for what we keep such a mighty bustle. _O fortunate_ Mr. +Pepys! who knows, possesses, and enjoys all that's worth the seeking +after. Let me live among your inclinations, and I shall be happy. + + + +To THE SAME + +_An old man's occupations_ + + +Wotton, 22 _July_, 1700. + +I could no longer suffer this old servant of mine to pass and repass +so near Clapham without a particular account of your health and all +your happy family. You will now inquire what I do here? Why, as the +patriarchs of old, I pass the days in the fields, among horses and +oxen, sheep, cows, bulls, and sows, _et cetera pecora campi_. We have, +thank God! finished our hay harvest prosperously. I am looking after +my hinds, providing carriage and tackle against reaping time and +sowing. What shall I say more? _Venio ad voluptates agricolarum_, +which Cicero, you know, reckons amongst the most becoming diversions +of old age; and so I render it. This without: now within doors, never +was any matron more busy than my wife, disposing of our plain +country furniture for a naked old extravagant house, suitable to +our employments. She has a dairy, and distaffs, for _lac, linum, et +lanam_, and is become a very Sabine. But can you thus hold out? Will +my friend say; is philosophy, Gresham College, and the example of Mr. +Pepys, and agreeable conversation of York Buildings, quite forgotten +and abandoned? No, no! _Naturam expellas furca tamen usque recurret_. +Know I have been ranging of no fewer than thirty large cases of books, +destined for a competent standing library, during four or five days +wholly destitute of my young coadjutor, who, upon some pretence of +being much engaged in the mathematics, and desiring he may continue +his course at Oxford till the beginning of August, I have wholly left +it to him. You will now suspect something by this disordered hand; +truly I was too happy in these little domestic affairs, when, on the +sudden, as I was about my books in the library, I found myself sorely +attacked with a shivering, followed by a feverish indisposition, and +a strangury, so as to have kept, not my chamber only, but my bed, till +very lately, and with just so much strength as to scribble these lines +to you. For the rest, I give God thanks for this gracious warning, my +great age calling upon me _sarcinam componere_ every day expecting it, +who have still enjoyed a wonderful course of bodily health for forty +years.... + + + + +DAME DOROTHY BROWNE + +1621-1685 + + + +TO HER DAUGHTER IN LONDON + +_Three interesting postscripts_ + + +[Norfolk, 28 _June, c_. 1679.] + +DEARE DAUGHTER, + +I have received all the things, to the great content of the owners, +who returne you many thankes. Thay ar indeed very well chose things of +all sorts: and I give you many thanks for the troble you have had with +them: I sent you Tomey's scurt and long slevs of his ould cott; I hope +you have them. On Mr. Felden it seemes took it last Wadinsday, and +sayd hee would deliver it him selfe. Wee dayly wish for the new +cloths; all our linen being worne out but shefts, and Tomey would give +all his stock to see his briches. I bless God wee ar all well as +I hope you ar. Tomey presents his dutty, your sisters all love and +services. + + +[4 _July_.] + +GOOD DAUGHTER, + +I must troble you once more abought my cosen Tenoson. She would +macke a manto gown of the grene and whight silke you sent down for a +peticot, but she wants two yards, and as much slit grene sarsinat as +will line it in sight. I pray send nurs to gett it and lett mee +know what it com to, and I will send you the mony. I sayes my Cossen +Cradock might send it me by the choch for she would have it as sonne +as possible. I bless God wee ar all in helth, and Tomey much longing +for his briches. + + +[5 _July_.] + +Tomey have received his cloues, and is much delighted, and sends you +and his mother and grandmother dutty and thanckes, and meanes to war +them carfully. + + + + +GEORGE, LORD BERKELEY + +1628-1698 + + + +To SAMUEL PEPYS[1] + +_Honourable Acquittal_ + + +Berkeley House, 23 _Feb_. 1677-8. + +GOOD MR. PEPYS, + +Though I thank you for the favour of your letter, yet I confess myself +both much surprised and troubled to receive a letter from you upon +such an occasion: so is my wife, who professes herself wholly innocent +of any crime of charging you in thought, word, or deed, and hopes you +will do her that right to believe so of her. My daughter Berkeley says +she expressed some trouble that the friend she recommended had not +success, and that she was told the Commissioners of the Navy did +report they had given the same recommendations of the person she +proposed, as they did of him that was accepted, for the lieutenant's +place; which my daughter, supposing to be true, wondered the more he +lost the preferment: but, by the copies enclosed in your's, it appears +her Ladyship was very much misinformed. As for Mrs. Henrietta, she +is extremely troubled in saying any thing that gave you offence; and +though she did not in the least intend it, yet she begs your pardon. +And now, my good friend, though I am not under any accusation, and +therefore need not say any thing to vindicate myself, yet give me +leave, upon this occasion, to assure you, that there is no person +has a better opinion of you than myself, nor is more sensible of your +particular civilities to me; which I should be very glad to make a +return of when in my power to serve you: and give me leave to add +further, without flattery to you, and with great sincerity, that I +believe our gracious master, His Majesty, is so fortunate in employing +you in his service, that, if he should lose you, it would be very +difficult for His Majesty to find a successor so well qualified in +all respects for his service, if we consider both your integrity, vast +abilities, industry, and zealous affections for his service; and, +if His Majesty were asked the question, I will hold ten to one His +Majesty declares himself of my opinion; so will I believe all that +know you, more especially our fellow-traders that are so conversant +with you and obliged by you. + +This is asserted as a great truth by, Sir, your very affectionate and +hearty friend and Servant. + +[Footnote 1: Cf. Letter on p. 45.] + + + + +DOROTHY OSBORNE + +1628-1698 + + + +To SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE + +_Passing the time_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +I have been reckoning up how many faults you lay to my charge in your +last letter, and I find I am severe, unjust, unmerciful, and unkind! +O me! how should one do to mend all those! 'Tis work for an age, and +I fear that I shall be so old before I am good, that 'twill not be +considerable to any body but myself whether I am so or not.... You ask +me how I pass my time here. I can give you a perfect account, not only +of what I do for the present, but what I am likely to do this seven +years if I stay here so long. I rise in the morning reasonably early, +and before I am ready I go round the house till I am weary of that, +and then into the garden till it grows too hot for me. I then think of +making me ready; and when that's done I go into my father's chamber; +from thence to dinner, where my cousin Molle and I sit in great state +in a room and at a table that would hold a great many more. After +dinner we sit and talk till Mr. P. comes in question, and then I am +gone. The heat of the day is spent in reading or working; and about +six or seven o'clock I walk out into a common that lies hard by the +house, where a great many young wenches keep sheep and cows, and +sit in the shade singing of ballads; I go to them, and compare their +voices and beauty to some ancient shepherdesses that I have read of, +and find a vast difference there; but, trust me, I think these are +as innocent as those could be. I talk to them, and find _they +want nothing to make them the happiest people in the world but the +knowledge that they are so_. Most commonly, while we are in the middle +of our discourse, one looks about her, and spies her cows going into +the corn, and then away they all run as if they had wings at their +heels. I that am not so nimble stay behind, and when I see them +driving home their cattle think it is time for me to return too. When +I have supped I go into the garden, and so to the side of a small +river that runs by it, where I sit down and wish you with me (you +had best say this is not kind, neither). In earnest, it is a pleasant +place, and would be more so to me if I had your company, as I sit +there sometimes till I am lost with thinking; and were it not for some +cruel thoughts of the crossness of my fortune, that will not let me +sleep there, I should forget there were such a thing to be done as +going to bed. Since I writ this, my company is increased by two, my +brother Harry, and a fair niece, my brother Peyton's daughter. She is +so much a woman that I am almost ashamed to say I am her aunt, and so +pretty, that if I had any design to gain a servant I should not like +her company; but I have none, and therefore I shall endeavour to keep +her here as long as I can persuade her father to spare her, for she +will easily consent to it, having so much of my humour (though it +be the worst thing in her) as to like a melancholy place, and little +company.... My father is reasonably well, but keeps his chamber still; +but will hardly, I am afraid, ever be so perfectly recovered as to +come abroad again. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Another pretender_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +I could tell you such a story (it is too long to be written), as would +make you see what I never discovered in my life before, that I am +a valiant lady. In earnest, we have had such a skirmish and upon so +foolish an occasion, as I cannot tell which is strangest. The Emperor +and his proposals began it; I talked merrily on it till I saw my +brother put on his sober face, and could hardly then believe he was +in earnest. It seems he was; for when I had spoke freely my meaning it +wrought so with him, as to fetch up all that lay upon his stomach: all +the people that I had ever in my life refused were brought again upon +the stage, like Richard the Third's ghosts, to reproach me withal, and +all the kindness his discoveries could make I had for you was laid to +my charge; my best qualities, if I have any that are good, served +but for aggravations of my fault, and I was allowed to have wit, and +understanding, and discretion, in all other things, that it might +appear I had none in this. Well, 'twas a pretty lecture, and I grew +warm with it after a while. In short, we came so near to an absolute +falling out that 'twas time to give over, and we said so much then +that we have hardly spoken a word together since. But 'tis wonderful +to see what courtesies and legs pass between us, and as before we were +thought the kindest brother and sister, we are certainly now the most +complimental couple in England: it is a strange change, and I am very +sorry for it, but I'll swear I know not how to help it.... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A disappointing preacher_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +... God forgive me, I was as near laughing yesterday where I should +not: would you believe that I had the grace to go to hear a sermon +upon a week-day? In earnest, 'tis true, and Mr. Marshall was the man +that preached, but never any body was so defeated. He is so famed that +I expected rare things from him, and seriously I listened to him at +first with as much reverence and attention as if he had been St. Paul. +And what do you think he told us? why, that if there were no kings, no +queens, no lords, no ladies, no gentlemen or gentlewomen in the world, +it would be no loss at all to God Almighty: this he said over some +forty times, which made me remember it, whether I would or not. +The rest was much at this rate, entertained with the prettiest odd +phrases, that I had the most ado to look soberly enough for the place +I was in that ever I had in my life. He does not preach so always, +sure; if he does, I cannot believe his sermons will do much towards +the bringing anybody to heaven more than by exercising their patience; +yet I'll say that for him, he stood stoutly for tithes, though in +my opinion few deserve them less than he, and it may be he would be +better without them. Yet you say you are not convinced that to be +miserable is the way to be good; to some natures I think it is not; +but there are many of so careless and vain a temper that the least +breath of good fortune swells them with so much pride, that if they +were not put in mind sometimes by a sound cross or two that they are +mortal, they would hardly think it possible; and though it is a sign +of a servile nature, when fear produces more of reverence in us +than love, yet there is more danger of forgetting one's self in a +prosperous fortune than in the contrary; and affliction may be the +surest though not the pleasantest guide to heaven. What think you, +might I not preach with Mr. Marshall for a wager?... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The ideal husband_ + + +[No date; _c_. 1653.] + +There are a great many ingredients must go to the making me happy in +a husband. My cousin F. says our humours must agree, and to do that he +must have that kind of breeding that I have had, and used to that kind +of company; that is, he must not be so much a country gentleman as to +understand nothing but hawks and dogs, and be fonder of either than of +his wife; nor of the next sort of them, whose time reaches no farther +than to be justice of peace, and once in his life high sheriff, who +reads no book but statutes, and studies nothing but how to make a +speech interlarded with Latin, that may amaze his disagreeing poor +neighbours, and fright them rather than persuade them into quietness. +He must not be a thing that began the world in a free school, was sent +from thence to the university, and is at his farthest when he reaches +the inns of court; has no acquaintance but those of his form in those +places; speaks the French he has picked out of old laws, and admires +nothing but the stories he has heard of the revels that were kept +there before his time. He must not be a town gallant neither, that +lives in a tavern and an ordinary; that cannot imagine how an hour +should be spent without company unless it be in sleeping; that makes +court to all the women he sees, thinks they believe him, and laughs +and is laughed at equally. Nor a travelled Monsieur, whose head is +feathered inside and outside, that can talk of nothing but of dances +and duels, and has courage enough to wear slashes, when every body +else dies with cold to see him. He must not be a fool of no sort, nor +peevish, nor ill-natured, nor proud, nor courteous; and to all this +must be added, that he must love me, and I him, as much as we are +capable of loving. Without all this his fortune, though never so +great, would not satisfy me, and with it a very moderate one would +keep me from ever repenting my disposal.... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The growth of friendship_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + + +... I must find you pleased and in good humour; merry as you were +wont to be, when we first met, if you will not have me show that I am +nothing akin to my cousin Osborne's lady. But what an age it is since +we first met, and how great a change it has wrought in both of us! +if there had been as great a one on my face, it would be either very +handsome or very ugly. For God's sake, when we meet, let us design one +day to remember old stories in, to ask one another by what degrees +our friendship grew to this height 'tis at. In earnest, I am lost +sometimes in thinking of it, and though I can never repent of the +share you have in my heart, I know not whether I gave it you willingly +or not at first. No; to speak ingenuously, I think you got an interest +there a good while before I thought you had any, and it grew so +insensibly and yet so fast, that all the traverses it has met with +since have served rather to discover it to me than at all to hinder +it. + + + +TO THE SAME. + +_Wilful woman_ + + +[No date; c. 1653.] + +I was carried yesterday abroad to a dinner that was designed for +mirth, but it seems one ill-humoured person in the company is enough +to put all the rest out of tune, for I never saw people perform what +they intended worse, and could not forbear telling them so; but to +excuse themselves and silence my reproaches they all agreed to say +that I spoiled their jollity by wearing the most unseasonable looks +that could be put on for such an occasion. I told them I knew no +remedy but leaving me behind them; that my looks were suitable to +my fortune though not to a feast. Fie, I am got into my complaining +humour that tires myself as well as every body else, and which (as you +observe) helps not at all; would it would leave me and that I should +not always have occasion for it, but that's in nobody's power, and my +Lady Talmash, that says she can do whatever she will, cannot believe +whatsoever she pleases. 'Tis not unpleasant, methinks, to hear her +talk how at such a time she was sick, and the physicians told her she +would have the small-pox and showed her where they were coming out +upon her, but she bethought herself that it was not at all convenient +for her to have them at that time; some business she had that required +her going abroad, and so she resolved she would not be sick nor was +not. Twenty such stories as these she tells, and then falls into +discourses of the strength of reason and power of philosophy till she +confounds herself and all that hear her. You have no such ladies in +Ireland.... My poor Lady Vavasor is carried to the Tower, and her +situation could not excuse her, because she was acquainted by somebody +that there was a plot against the Protector, and did not discover it. +She has told now all that was told her, but vows she will never say +from whence she had it; we shall see whether her resolutions are as +unalterable as those of my Lady Talmash. I wonder how she behaved +herself when she was married; I never yet saw anybody that did not +look simply and out of countenance, nor ever knew a wedding well +designed but one, and that was of two persons who had time enough I +confess to contrive it, and nobody to please in it but themselves. He +came down into the country where she was upon a visit, and one morning +married her; as soon as they came out of the church, they took coach +and came for the town, dined at an Inn by the way, and at night came +into lodgings that were provided for them, where nobody knew them, +and where they passed for married people of seven years' standing. The +truth is I could not endure to be Mrs. Bride in a public wedding, to +be made the happiest person on earth; do not take it ill, for I would +endure it if I could, rather than fail, but in earnest I do not think +it were possible for me; you cannot apprehend the formalities of a +treaty more than I do, nor so much the success of it. Yet in earnest +your father will not find my brother Peyton wanting in civility +(though he is not a man of much compliment unless it be in his letters +to me), nor an unreasonable person in any thing so he will allow him, +out of his kindness to his wife, to set a higher value upon his +sister than she deserves. I know not how he may be prejudiced upon the +business, but he is not deaf to reason when it is civilly delivered, +and is as easily gained with compliance and good usage as any body +I know, but no other way; when he is roughly used he is like me ten +times the worse for it. I make it a case of conscience to discover my +faults to you as fast as I know them, that you may consider what you +have to do: my aunt told me no longer ago than yesterday, that I was +the most wilful woman that ever she knew, and had an obstinacy of +spirit nothing could overcome. Take heed, you see I give you fair +warning. I have missed a letter this Monday, what is the reason? +By the next I shall be gone into Kent, and my other journey is laid +aside, which I am not displeased at, because it would have broken our +intercourse very much. Here are some verses of Cowley's; pray tell me +how you like them. It is only a piece taken out of a new thing of +his. The whole is very long, and is a description of, or rather a +paraphrase upon, the friendships of David and Jonathan. 'Tis I think +the best I have seen of his, and I like the subject because it is that +I would be perfect in. Adieu! + + + + +KATHARINE PHILIPS + +1631-1664 + + + +ORINDA TO THE HONOURABLE BERENICE + +_Yielding to opinion_ + + +Priory of Cardigan, _25 June_ + +Your Ladyship's last favour from Coll. P----'s was truly obliging, +and carried so much of the same great soul of yours, which loves to +diffuse itself in expressions of friendship to me, that it merits +a great deal more acknowledgement than I am able to pay at my best +condition, and am less now when my head aches, and will give me no +leave to enlarge, though I have so much subject and reason; but really +if my heart ached too, I could be sensible of a very great kindness +and condescension in thinking me worthy of your concern, though +I visibly perceive most of my letters have lost their way to your +Ladyship. I beseech you be pleased first to believe I have written +every post; but, secondly, since I came, and then to enquire for them, +that they may be commended into your hands, where alone they can hope +for a favourable residence; I am very much a sharer by sympathy, in +your Ladyship's satisfaction in the converse you had in the country, +and find that to that ingenious company Fortune hath been just, there +being no person fitter to receive all the admiration of persons best +capable to pay them, than the great _Berenice_.... + +And now (madam) why was that a cruel question, When will you come to +_Wales_? 'Tis cruel to me, I confess, that it is yet in question, but +I humbly beg your Ladyship to unriddle that part of your letter, for +I cannot understand why you, madam, who have no persons alive to whom +your birth hath submitted you, and have already by your life secured +to yourself the best opinion the world can give you, should create an +awe upon your own actions, from imaginary inconveniences: Happiness, +I confess, is two-faced, and one is opinion; but that opinion is +certainly _our own_; for it were equally ridiculous and impossible +to shape our _actions_ by others' _opinions_. I have had so much (and +some sad) reason to discuss this principle, that I can speak with some +confidence, That _none will ever be happy, who make their happiness to +consist in, or be governed by the votes of other persons._ I deny +not but the approbation of wise and good persons is a very necessary +satisfaction; but to forbear innocent contentments, only because it's +possible some fancies may be so capricious as to dispute whether I +should have taken them, is, in my belief, neither better nor worse +than to fast always, because there are some so superstitious in the +world, that will abstain from meat, upon some score or other, upon +every day in the year, that is, some upon some days, and others +upon others, and some upon all. You know, madam, there is nothing so +various as _vulgar opinion_, nothing so untrue to itself. Who shall +then please since none can fix it? 'Tis heresy (this of submitting to +every blast of popular extravagancy) which I have combated in persons +very dear to me; _Dear madam_, let them not have your authority for a +relapse, when I had almost committed them; but consider it without a +bias, and give sentence as you see cause; and in that interim put me +not off (_Dear madam_) with those chimeras, but tell me plainly what +inconvenience is it to come? If it be one in earnest, I will submit, +but otherwise, I am so much my own friend, and my friend's friend, +as not to be satisfied with your Ladyship's taking measure of your +actions by others' opinion, when I know too that the severest could +find nothing in this journey that they could condemn, but your excess +of charity to me, and that censure you have already supported with +patience, and (notwithstanding my own consciousness of no ways +deserving your sufferance upon that score) I cannot beg you to recover +the reputation of your judgement in that particular, since it must be +my ruin. I should now say very much for your most obliging commands to +me, to write, and should beg frequent letters from your Ladyship with +all possible importunity, and should by command from my _Lucasia_ +excuse her last rudeness (as she calls it) in giving you account of +her honour for you under her own hand, but I must beg your pardon now, +and out-believing all, I can say upon every one of these accounts, for +really, madam, you cannot tell how to imagine any person more to any +one, than I am, + +_Madam, +Your Ladyship's +most faithful servant, +and passionate friend_, +ORINDA + + + + +JOHN LOCKE + +1632-1704 + + + +TO WILLIAM MOLYNEUX + +_A philosopher's confidences_ + + +Oates, 26 _April_, 1695. + +SIR, + +You look with the eyes, and speak the language of friendship, when you +make my life of much more concern to the world than your own. I take +it, as it is, for an effect of your kindness, and so shall not accuse +you of compliment; the mistakes and over-valuings of good-will being +always sincere, even when they exceed what common truth allows. This +on my side I must beg you to believe, that my life would be much more +pleasant and useful to me, if you were within my reach, that I might +sometimes enjoy your conversation, and, upon twenty occasions, lay +my thoughts before you, and have the advantage of your judgement. I +cannot complain that I have not my share of friends of all ranks, and +such, whose interest, assistance, affection, and opinions too, in fit +cases, I can rely on. But methinks, for all this, there is one place +vacant, that I know nobody that would so well fill as yourself; I want +one near me to talk freely with, _de quolibet ente_; to propose to +the extravagancies that rise in my mind; one with whom I would debate +several doubts and questions, to see what was in them. Meditating by +one's self, is like digging in the mine; it often, perhaps, brings up +maiden earth, which never came near the light before; but whether it +contains any metal in it, is never so well tried as in conversation +with a knowing judicious friend who carries about with him the true +touchstone, which is love of truth in a clear-thinking head. Men of +parts and judgement the world usually gets hold of, and by a great +mistake (that their abilities of mind are lost, if not employed in the +pursuit of wealth or power) engages them in the ways of fortune and +interest, which usually leave but little freedom or leisure of thought +for pure disinterested truth. And such who give themselves up frankly, +and in earnest to the full latitude of real knowledge, are not +everywhere to be met with. Wonder not, therefore, that I wish so much +for you in my neighbourhood; I should be too happy in a friend of your +make, were you within my reach. But yet I cannot but wish that some +business would once bring you within distance; and it is a pain to me +to think of leaving the world without the happiness of seeing you. + +I do not wonder that a kinsman of yours should magnify civilities that +scarce deserve the name; I know not wherein they consisted, but in +being glad to see one that was in any way related to you, and was +himself a very ingenious man; either of those was a title to more than +I did, or could show him. I am sorry I have not yet had an opportunity +to wait on him in London; and I fear he should be gone before I am +able to get thither. This long winter, and cold spring, has hung very +heavy upon my lungs, and they are not yet in a case to be ventured in +London air, which must be my excuse for not waiting upon him and Dr. +Ashe yet. + +The third edition of my essay has already, or will be speedily, in the +press. But what perhaps will seem stranger, and possibly please you +better, an abridgement is now making (if it be not already done) by +one of the university of Oxford, for the use of young scholars, in the +place of the ordinary system of logic. From the acquaintance I had of +the temper of that place I did not expect to have it get much footing +there. But so it is, I some time since received a very civil letter +from one, wholly a stranger to me there, concerning such a design; and +by another from him since, I conclude it near done. He seems to be an +ingenious man, and he writes sensibly about it, but I can say nothing +of it till I see it; and he, of his own accord, has offered that it +shall be wholly submitted to my opinion, and disposal of it. And thus, +sir, possibly that which you once proposed may be attained to, and I +was pleased with the gentleman's design for your sake. + +You are a strange man, you oblige me very much by the care you take +to have it well translated, and you thank me for complying with your +offer. In my last, as I remember, I told you the reason why it was +so long before I writ, was an expectation of an answer from London, +concerning something I had to communicate to you: it was in short +this; I was willing to know what my bookseller would give for a good +latin copy; he told me, at last, twenty pounds. His delay was, because +he would first have known what the translator demanded. But I forced +him to make his proposal, and so I send it to you, to make what use of +it you please. He since writ me word, that a friend of his at Oxford +would, in some time, be at leisure to do it, and would undertake it. I +bid him excuse himself to him, for that it was in hands I approved of, +and some part of it now actually done. For I hope the essay (he was to +show you the next week after you writ to me last) pleased you. Think +it not a compliment, that I desire you to make what alterations you +think fit. One thing particularly you will oblige me and the world in, +and that is, in paring off some of the superfluous repetitions, which +I left in for the sake of illiterate men, and the softer sex, not used +to abstract notions and reasonings. But much of this reasoning will +be out of doors in a latin translation. I refer all to your judgement, +and so am secure it will be done as is best. + +What I shall add concerning enthusiasm, I guess, will very much agree +with your thoughts, since yours jump so right with mine, about the +place where it is to come in, I having designed it for chap. 18, lib. +iv, as a false principle of reasoning often made use of. But, to give +an historical account of the various ravings men have embraced for +religion, would, I fear, be besides my purpose, and be enough to make +an huge volume. + +My opinion of P. Malebranche agrees perfectly with yours. What I +have writ concerning 'seeing all things in God', would make a little +treatise of itself. But I have not quite gone through it, for fear +I should by somebody or other be tempted to print it. For I love not +controversies, and have a personal kindness for the author. When I +have the happiness to see you, we will consider it together, and you +shall dispose of it. + +I think I shall make some other additions to be put into your latin +translation, and particularly concerning the 'connection of ideas', +which has not, that I know, been hitherto considered, and has, I +guess, a greater influence upon our minds than is usually taken notice +of. Thus, you see, I make you the confident of my reveries; you would +be troubled with a great many more of them, were you nearer. + + + +TO DR. MOLYNEUX + +_True friendship_ + + +Oates, 27 _Oct._ 1698. + +SIR, + +Death has, with a violent hand, hastily snatched from you a dear +brother. I doubt not but, on this occasion, you need all the +consolation can be given to one unexpectedly bereft of so worthy and +near a relation. Whatever inclination I may have to alleviate your +sorrow, I bear too great a share in the loss, and am too sensibly +touched with it myself, to be in a condition to discourse with you on +this subject, or do any thing but mingle my tears with yours. I have +lost, in your brother, not only an ingenious and learned acquaintance, +all that the world esteemed; but an intimate and sincere friend, whom +I truly loved, and by whom I was truly loved: and what a loss that is, +those only can be sensible who know how valuable, and how scarce, +a true friend is, and how far to be preferred to all other sorts of +treasure. He has left a son, who I know was dear to him, and deserved +to be so as much as was possible, for one of his age. I cannot think +myself wholly incapacitated from paying some of the affection and +service that was due from me to my dear friend, as long as he has a +child, or a brother, in the world. If, therefore, there be any thing, +at this distance, wherein I, in my little sphere, may be able to serve +your nephew or you, I beg you, by the memory of our deceased friend, +to let me know it, that you may see that one who loved him so well, +cannot but be tenderly concerned for his son, nor be otherwise than I +am, Sir, etc. + + + + +SAMUEL PEPYS + +1633-1703 + + + +TO GEORGE, LORD BERKELEY + +_An explanation_ + + +Derby House, 22 _Feb._ 1677-8 + +MY LORD, + +I am greatly owing to your Lordship for your last favour at St. +John's, and did, till now, reckon myself under no less a debt to my +Ladies for the honour at the same time done me, in their commands +touching Mr. Bonithan. But, my Lord, I have lately had the misfortune +of being undeceived in the latter, by coming to know the severity with +which some of my Ladies are pleased to discourse of me in relation +thereto. I assure your Lordship, I was so big with the satisfaction of +having an opportunity given me by my Ladies at once of obliging them, +paying a small respect to you, and doing a good office to a deserving +gentleman, that I did not let one day pass before I had bespoke and +obtained His Majesty's and Royal Highness's promise of favour in Mr. +Bonithan's behalf: and was so far afterwards from failing him in my +further assistances with Captain Trevanion and others, that I took +early care to secure him a lieutenancy, by a commission actually +signed for him by the King, in the ship _Stavereene_, relying upon the +character Captain Trevanion had given me of his capacity to abide +the examination, established by the King, upon the promotion of +lieutenants; which was not only the most I should have done in the +case of a brother, but more than ever I did in any man's case before, +or, for his sake, do think I shall ever do again. True it is, my Lord, +that when, upon his examination by the officers of the Navy, he was +found not so fully qualified for the office of lieutenant as was +requisite, I did with all respect, and to his seeming satisfaction, +advise him to pass a little longer time in the condition he was +then in, under a stricter application of himself to the practice of +navigation. And, in pursuance of my duty to the King, I did acquaint +him also with Mr. Bonithan's present unreadiness; and had, therefore, +a command given me for conferring the commission prepared for him upon +another, who, upon examination, at the same time with Mr. Bonithan, +was found better qualified for it. As to what I understand my Ladies +are pleased to entertain themselves and others with, to my reproach, +as if money had been wanting in the case, it is a reproach lost upon +me, my Lord, who am known to be so far from needing any purgation in +the point of selling places, as never to have taken so much as my fee +for a commission or warrant to any one officer in the Navy, within +the whole time, now near twenty years, that I have had the honour of +serving His Majesty therein--a self-denial at this day so little in +fashion, and yet so chargeable to maintain, that I take no pride, +and as little pleasure, in the mentioning it, further than it happily +falls in here to my defence against the mistake the Ladies seem +disposed to arraign me by on this occasion. Besides that, in the +particular case of this gentleman, Lieut. Beele, who enjoys the +commission designed for Mr. Bonithan, he is one whose face I never +saw either before or since the time of his receiving it, nor know one +friend he has in the world to whom he owes this benefit, other than +the King's justice and his own modest merit: which, having said, it +remains only that I assure your Lordship what I have so said, is not +calculated with any regard to, much less any repining at, the usage +the Ladies are pleased to show me in this affair, for 'tis fit I bear +it, but to acquit myself to your Lordship in my demeanour towards +them, as becomes their and, my Lord, + +Your Lordship's most obedient Servant. + + + +TO MRS. STEWARD + +_A wedding in the city_ + + +20 _Sept._ 1695. + +MADAM, + +You are very good, and pray continue so, by as many kind messages as +you can, and notices of your health, such as the bearer brings you +back my thanks for, and a thousand services. Here's a sad town, and +God knows when it will be a better, our losses at sea making a very +melancholy exchange at both ends of it; the gentlewomen of this, to +say nothing of the other, sitting with their arms across, without a +yard of muslin in their shops to sell, while the ladies, they tell +me, walk pensively by, without a shilling, I mean a good one, in their +pockets to buy. One thing there is indeed, that comes in my way as a +Governor, to hear of, which carries a little mirth with it, and indeed +is very odd. Two wealthy citizens that are lately dead, and left their +estates, one to a Blue Coat boy, and the other to a Blue Coat girl, in +Christ's Hospital. The extraordinariness of which has led some of +the magistrates to carry it on to a match, which is ended in a public +wedding; he in his habit of blue satin, led by two of the girls, and +she in blue, with an apron green and petticoat yellow, all of sarsnet, +led by two of the boys of the house, through Cheapside to Guildhall +Chapel, where they were married by the Dean of St. Paul's, she given +by my Lord Mayor. The wedding dinner, it seems, was kept in the +Hospital Hall, but the great day will be tomorrow, St Matthew's; when, +so much I am sure of, my Lord Mayor will be there, and myself also +have had a ticket of invitation thither, and if I can, will be there +too, but, for other particulars, I must refer you to my next, and so, + +Dear madam, Adieu. + +Bow Bells are just now ringing, ding dong, but whether for this, I +cannot presently tell; but it is likely enough, for I have known them +ring upon much foolisher occasions, and lately too. + + + +TO JOHN EVELYN + +_Reply to an old friend_ + + +Clapham, 7 _Aug._ 1700. + +I have no herds to mind, nor will my Doctor allow me any books here. +What then, will you say, too, are you doing? Why, truly, nothing that +will bear naming, and yet I am not, I think, idle; for who can, that +has so much of past and to come to think on, as I have? And thinking, +I take it, is working, though many forms beneath what my Lady and you +are doing. But pray remember what o'clock it is with you and me; and +be not now, by overstirring, too bold with your present complaint, any +more than I dare be with mine, which, too, has been no less kind in +giving me my warning, than the other to you, and to neither of us, +I hope, and, through God's mercy, dare say, either unlooked for or +unwelcome. I wish, nevertheless, that I were able to administer any +thing towards the lengthening that precious rest of life which God has +thus long blessed you, and, in you, mankind, with; but I have always +been too little regardful of my own health, to be a prescriber to +others. I cannot give myself the scope I otherwise should in talking +now to you at this distance, on account of the care extraordinary I am +now under from Mrs. Skinner's being suddenly fallen very ill; but ere +long I may possibly venture at entertaining you with something from +my young man in exchange--I don't say in payment, for the pleasure you +gratify me with from yours, whom I pray God to bless with continuing +but what he is! and I'll ask no more for him. + + + + +JONATHAN SWIFT + +1667-1745 + + + +TO STELLA + +_The Dean at home_ + + +London, 16 _Jan._ 1710-11. + +O faith, young women, I have sent my letter N. 13, without one crumb +of an answer to any of MD's; there is for you now; and yet Presto +ben't angry faith, not a bit, only he will begin to be in pain next +Irish post, except he sees MD's little handwriting in the glass frame +at the bar of St. James's Coffee-house, where Presto would never go +but for that purpose. Presto's at home, God help him, every night from +six till bed time, and has as little enjoyment or pleasure in life at +present as anybody in the world, although in full favour with all the +ministry. As hope saved, nothing gives Presto any sort of dream of +happiness, but a letter now and then from his own dearest MD. I love +the expectation of it, and when it does not come, I comfort myself, +that I have it yet to be happy with. Yes faith, and when I write to +MD, I am happy too; it is just as if methinks you were here, and I +prating to you, and telling you where I have been: Well, says you, +Presto, come, where have you been to-day? come, let's hear now. And so +then I answer; Ford and I were visiting Mr. Lewis, and Mr. Prior, and +Prior has given me a fine Plautus, and then Ford would have had me +dine at his lodgings, and so I would not; and so I dined with him at +an eating-house; which I have not done five times since I came here; +and so I came home, after visiting Sir Andrew Fountaine's mother and +sister, and Sir Andrew Fountaine is mending, though slowly. + +17. I was making, this morning, some general visits, and at twelve I +called at the coffee-house for a letter from MD; so the man said he +had given it to Patrick; then I went to the Court of requests and +treasury to find Mr. Harley, and after some time spent in mutual +reproaches, I promised to dine with him; I stayed there till seven, +then called at Sterne's and Leigh's to talk about your box, and to +have it sent by Smyth; Sterne says he has been making inquiries, +and will set things right as soon as possible. I suppose it lies at +Chester, at least I hope so, and only wants a lift over to you.... +Well, so I came home to read my letter from Stella, but the dog +Patrick was abroad; at last he came, and I got my letter; I found +another hand had superscribed it; when I opened it, I found it written +all in French, and subscribed Bernage: faith, I was ready to fling +it at Patrick's head. Bernage tells me, he had been to desire your +recommendation to me to make him a captain; and your cautious answer, +'That he had as much power with me as you,' was a notable one; if you +were here, I would present you to the ministry as a person of ability. +Bernage should let me know where to write to him; this is the second +letter I have had without any direction; however, I beg I may not have +a third, but that you will ask him, and send me how I shall direct +to him. In the meantime, tell him, that if regiments are to be raised +here, as he says, I will speak to George Granville, secretary at war, +to make him a captain; and use what other interest I conveniently can. +I think that is enough, and so tell him, and do not trouble me with +his letters when I expect them from MD; do you hear, young women, +write to Presto. + +18. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary St. John, and we were to +dine at Mr. Harley's alone, about some business of importance; but +there were two or three gentlemen there. Mr. Secretary and I went +together from his office to Mr. Harley's, and thought to have been +very wise; but the deuce a bit: the company stayed, and more came, +and Harley went away at seven, and the secretary and I stayed with the +rest of the company till eleven; I would then have had him come away, +but he was in for it; and though he swore he would come away at that +flask, there I left him. I wonder at the civility of these people; +when he saw I would drink no more, he would always pass the bottle by +me, and yet I could not keep the toad from drinking himself, nor he +would not let me go neither, nor Masham, who was with us. When I +got home, I found a parcel directed to me, and opening it, I found +a pamphlet written entirely against myself, not by name, but against +something I writ: it is pretty civil, and affects to be so, and I +think I will take no notice of it; it is against something written +very lately; and indeed I know not what to say, nor do I care; and so +you are a saucy rogue for losing your money to-day at Stoyte's; to let +that bungler beat you, my Stella, are not you ashamed? well, I forgive +you this once, never do so again; no, noooo. Kiss and be friends, +sirrah.--Come, let me go sleep, I go earlier to bed than formerly; and +have not been out so late these two months; but the secretary was in a +drinking humour. So good night, myownlittledearsaucyinsolentrogues. + +19. Then you read that long word in the last line, no faith have not +you. Well, when will this letter come from our MD? to-morrow or next +day without fail; yes faith, and so it is coming. This was an insipid +snowy day, and I dined gravely with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and came home, +and am now got to bed a little after ten; I remember old Culpepper's +maxim: + + Would you have a settled head, + You must early go to bed: + I tell you, and I tell it again, + You must be in bed at ten. + +20. And so I went to-day with my new wig, o hoao, to visit Lady +Worsley, whom I had not seen before, although she was near a month in +town. Then I walked in the Park to find Mr. Ford, whom I had promised +to meet, and coming down the Mall, who should come towards me but +Patrick, and gives me five letters out of his pocket. I read the +superscription of the first, Pshoh, said I; of the second, pshoh +again; of the third, pshah, pshah, pshah; of the fourth, a gad, a gad, +a gad, I am in a rage; of the fifth and last, O hoooa; ay marry +this is something, this is our MD, so truly we opened it, I think +immediately, and it began the most impudently in the world, thus; Dear +Presto, we are even thus far. Now we are even, quoth Stephen, when he +gave his wife six blows for one. I received your ninth four days after +I had sent my thirteenth. But I'll reckon with you anon about that, +young women. Why did not you recant at the end of your letter when you +got your eleventh? tell me that, huzzies base, were we even then, were +we, sirrah? but I will not answer your letter now, I will keep it for +another time. We had a great deal of snow to-day, and it is terrible +cold.... + +21. _Morning_. It has snowed terribly all night, and is vengeance +cold. I am not yet up, but cannot write long; my hands will freeze. Is +there a good fire, Patrick? Yes, sir, then I will rise; come take away +the candle. You must know I write on the dark side of my bedchamber, +and am forced to have a candle till I rise, for the bed stands between +me and the window, and I keep the curtains shut this cold weather. +So pray let me rise, and, Patrick, here, take away the candle.--_At +night._ We are now here in high frost and snow, the largest fire can +hardly keep us warm. It is very ugly walking, a baker's boy broke his +thigh yesterday. I walk slow, make short steps, and never tread on my +heel. It is a good proverb the Devonshire people have: + + Walk fast in snow, + In frost walk slow, + And still as you go, + Tread on your toe: + + When frost and snow are both together, + Sit by the fire and spare shoe leather. + +22. _Morning_. Starving, starving, uth, uth, uth, uth, uth.--Do not +you remember I used to come into your chamber, and turn Stella out of +her chair, and rake up the fire in a cold morning, and cry uth, uth, +uth? O faith, I must rise, my hand is so cold I can write no more.... + +26, 27, 28, 29, 30. I have been so lazy and negligent these last four +days, that I could not write to MD. My head is not in order, and yet +it is not absolutely ill, but giddyish, and makes me listless; I walk +every day, and hope I shall grow better. I wish I were with MD; I long +for spring and good weather, and then I will come over. My riding in +Ireland keeps me well. I am very temperate, and eat of the easiest +meats as I am directed, and hope the malignity will go off; but +one fit shakes me a long time. I dined to-day with Lord Mountjoy, +yesterday at Mr. Stone's in the city, on Sunday at Vanhomrigh's, +Saturday with Ford, and Friday I think at Vanhomrigh's, and that's all +the journal I can send MD; for I was so lazy while I was well that I +could not write. I thought to have sent this to-night, but it is ten, +and I'll go to bed, and write on the other side to Parsivol to-morrow, +and send it on Thursday; and so good night my dears, and love Presto, +and be healthy, and Presto will be so too. + + + +To LORD TREASURER OXFORD + +_The Dean makes his bow_ + + +1 _July_, 1714. + +MY LORD, + +When I was with you, I have said more than once, that I would never +allow quality or station made any real difference between men. Being +now absent and forgotten, I have changed my mind: you have a thousand +people who can pretend they love you, with as much appearance of +sincerity as I, so that, according to common justice, I can have but +a thousandth part in return of what I give. And this difference is +wholly owing to your station. And the misfortune is still the greater, +because I always loved you just so much the worse for your station: +for, in your public capacity, you have often angered me to the heart, +but, as a private man, never once. So that, if I only look toward +myself, I could wish you a private man to-morrow: for I have nothing +to ask; at least nothing that you will give, which is the same thing: +and then you would see whether I should not with much more willingness +attend you in a retirement, whenever you please to give me leave, than +ever I did at London or Windsor. From these sentiments I will never +write to you, if I can help it, otherwise than as to a private person, +or allow myself to have been obliged to you in any other capacity. + +The memory of one great instance of your candour and justice, I will +carry to my grave; that having been in a manner domestic with you +for almost four years, it was never in the power of any public or +concealed enemy to make you think ill of me, though malice and envy +were often employed to that end. If I live, posterity shall know that, +and more; which, though you, and somebody that shall be nameless, seem +to value less than I could wish, is all the return I can make you. +Will you give me leave to say how I would desire to stand in your +memory? As one, who was truly sensible of the honour you did him, +though he was too proud to be vain upon it; as one, who was neither +assuming, officious, nor teasing; who never wilfully misrepresented +persons or facts to you, nor consulted his passions when he gave +a character; and lastly, as one, whose indiscretions proceeded +altogether from a weak head, and not an ill heart. I will add one +thing more, which is the highest compliment I can make, that I never +was afraid of offending you, nor am now in any pain for the manner +I write to you in. I have said enough; and, like one at your levee, +having made my bow, I shrink back into the crowd. + + + +TO DR. SHERIDAN + +_News from the country_ + + +25 _Jan._ 1724-5. + +I have a packet of letters, which I intended to send by Molly, who has +been stopped three days by the bad weather; but now I will send them +by the post to-morrow to Kells, and enclosed to Mr. Tickell there is +one to you, and one to James Stopford. + +I can do no work this terrible weather; which has put us all seventy +times out of patience. I have been deaf nine days, and am now pretty +well recovered again. + +Pray desire Mr. Stanton and Worral to continue giving themselves some +trouble with Mr. Pratt; but let it succeed or not, I hope I shall be +easy. + +Mrs. Johnson swears it will rain till Michaelmas. She is so pleased +with her pick-axe, that she wears it fastened to her girdle on her +left side, in balance with her watch. The lake is strangely overflown, +and we are desperate about turf, being forced to buy it three miles +off: and Mrs. Johnson (God help her!) gives you many a curse. Your +mason is come, but cannot yet work upon your garden. Neither can I +agree with him about the great wall. For the rest, _vide_ the letter +you will have on Monday, if Mr. Tickell uses you well. + +The news of this country is, that the maid you sent down, John +Farelly's sister, is married; but the portion and settlement are yet a +secret. The cows here never give milk on midsummer eve. + +You would wonder what carking and caring there is among us for small +beer and lean mutton, and starved lamb, and stopping gaps, and driving +cattle from the corn. In that we are all-to-be-Dingleyed. + +The ladies' room smokes; the rain drops from the skies into the +kitchen; our servants eat and drink like the devil, and pray for rain, +which entertains them at cards and sleep; which are much lighter than +spades, sledges, and crows. Their maxim is, + + Eat like a Turk, + Sleep like a dormouse; + Be last at work, + At victuals foremost. + +Which is all at present; hoping you and your good family are well, as +we are all at this present writing &c. + +Robin has just carried out a load of bread and cold meat for +breakfast; this is their way; but now a cloud hangs over them, for +fear it should hold up, and the clouds blow off. + +I write on till Molly comes in for the letter. O, what a draggletail +will she be before she gets to Dublin! I wish she may not happen to +fall upon her back by the way. + +I affirm against Aristotle, that cold and rain congregate homogenes, +for they gather together you and your crew, at whist, punch, and +claret. Happy weather for Mrs. Maul, Betty, and Stopford, and all true +lovers of cards and laziness. + +THE BLESSINGS OF A COUNTRY LIFE. + + Far from our debtors, + No Dublin letters, + Not seen by our betters. + +THE PLAGUES OF A COUNTRY LIFE. + + A companion with news, + A great want of shoes; + Eat lean meat, or choose; + A church without pews. + Our horses astray, + No straw, oats, or hay; + December in May, + Our boys run away, + All servants at play. + +Molly sends for the letter. + + + +TO ALEXANDER POPE + +_Mostly about Gulliver_ + + +Dublin, 17 _Nov._ 1726. + +I am just come from answering a letter of Mrs. Howard's, writ in such +mystical terms, that I should never have found out the meaning, if a +book had not been sent me called _Gulliver's Travels_, of which you +say so much in yours. I read the book over, and in the second volume +observed several passages which appear to be patched and altered, and +the style of a different sort, unless I am mistaken. Dr. Arbuthnot +likes the projectors least; others, you tell me, the flying island; +some think it wrong to be so hard upon whole bodies or corporations, +yet the general opinion is, that reflections on particular persons are +most to be blamed; so that in these cases, I think the best method is +to let censure and opinion take their course. A bishop here said, that +book was full of improbable lies, and for his part, he hardly believed +a word of it; and so much for Gulliver. + +Going to England is a very good thing, if it were not attended with +an ugly circumstance of returning to Ireland. It is a shame you do not +persuade your ministers to keep me on that side, if it were but by a +court expedient of keeping me in prison for a plotter; but at the same +time I must tell you, that such journeys very much shorten my life, +for a month here is very much longer than six at Twickenham. + +How comes friend Gay to be so tedious? Another man can publish fifty +thousand lies sooner than he can publish fifty fables.... Let me add, +that if I were Gulliver's friend, I would desire all my acquaintance +to give out that his copy was basely mangled and abused, and added to, +and blotted out by the printer; for so to me it seems in the second +volume particularly. + +Adieu. + + + +TO JOHN GAY + +_Enquiries into Mr. Gay's pursuits_ + + +Dublin, 4 _May_, 1732. + +I am now as lame as when you writ your letter, and almost as lame as +your letter itself, for want of that limb from my lady duchess, which +you promised, and without which I wonder how it could limp hither. I +am not in a condition to make a true step even on Amesbury Downs, and +I declare that a corporeal false step is worse than a political one: +nay, worse than a thousand political ones, for which I appeal to +courts and ministers, who hobble on and prosper without the sense of +feeling. To talk of riding and walking is insulting me, for I can +as soon fly as do either. It is your pride or laziness, more than +chair-hire, that makes the town expensive. No honour is lost by +walking in the dark; and in the day you may beckon a blackguard +boy under a gate, near your visiting place, (experto crede,) save +elevenpence, and get half-a-crown's worth of health. The worst of my +present misfortune is, that I eat and drink, and can digest neither +for want of exercise; and, to increase my misery, the knaves are +sure to find me at home, and make huge void spaces in my cellars. I +congratulate with you for losing your great acquaintance; in such a +case, philosophy teaches that we must submit, and be content with good +ones. I like Lord Cornbury's refusing his pension, but I demur at his +being elected for Oxford; which, I conceive, is wholly changed; and +entirely devoted to new principles; so it appeared to me the two last +times I was there. I find by the whole cast of your letter, that you +are as giddy and as volatile as ever: just the reverse of Mr. Pope, +who has always loved a domestic life from his youth. I was going to +wish you had some little place that you could call your own, but, I +profess I do not know you well enough to contrive any one system +of life that would please you. You pretend to preach up riding and +walking to the duchess, yet from my knowledge of you after twenty +years, you always joined a violent desire of perpetually shifting +places and company, with a rooted laziness, and an utter impatience of +fatigue. A coach and six horses is the utmost exercise you can bear; +and this only when you can fill it with such company as is best suited +to your taste, and how glad would you be if it could waft you in the +air to avoid jolting; while I, who am so much later in life, can, +or at least could, ride five hundred miles on a trotting horse. You +mortally hate writing, only because it is the thing you chiefly ought +to do; as well to keep up the vogue you have in the world, as to make +you easy in your fortune. You are merciful to everything but money, +your best friend, whom you treat with inhumanity. Be assured I will +hire people to watch all your motions, and to return me a faithful +account. Tell me, have you cured your absence of mind? can you attend +to trifles? can you at Amesbury write domestic libels to divert the +family and neighbouring squires for five miles round? or venture so +far on horseback, without apprehending a stumble at every step? can +you set the footmen a-laughing as they wait at dinner? and do the +duchess's women admire your wit? in what esteem are you with the vicar +of the parish? can you play with him at backgammon? have the farmers +found out that you cannot distinguish rye from barley, or an oak from +a crab-tree? You are sensible that I know the full extent of your +country skill is in fishing for roaches or gudgeons at the highest. + +I love to do you good offices with your friends, and therefore desire +you will show this letter to the duchess, to improve her grace's good +opinion of your qualifications, and convince her how useful you are +likely to be in the family. Her grace shall have the honour of my +correspondence again when she goes to Amesbury. Hear a piece of Irish +news; I buried the famous General Meredyth's father last night in my +cathedral, he was ninety-six years old; so that Mrs. Pope may live +seven years longer. You saw Mr. Pope in health, pray is he generally +more healthy than when I was among you? I would know how your own +health is, and how much wine you drink in a day? My stint in company +is a pint at noon, and half as much at night; but I often dine at home +like a hermit, and then I drink little or none at all. Yet I differ +from you, for I would have society, if I could get what I like, people +of middle understanding, and middle rank. + +Adieu. + + + + +JOSEPH ADDISON + +1672-1719 + + + +TO ALEXANDER POPE + +_Translation of Homer_ + + +26 _Oct._ 1713. + +I was extremely glad to receive a letter from you, but more so upon +reading the contents of it. The work you mention will, I dare say, +very sufficiently recommend itself when your name appears with the +proposals: and if you think I can any way contribute to the forwarding +of them, you cannot lay a greater obligation upon me, than by +employing me in such an office. As I have an ambition of having it +known that you are my friend, I shall be very proud of showing it by +this or any other instance. I question not but your translation will +enrich our tongue, and do honour to our country; for I conclude of +it already from those performances with which you have obliged the +public. I would only have you consider how it may most turn to your +advantage. Excuse my impertinence in this particular, which proceeds +from my zeal for your ease and happiness. The work would cost you a +great deal of time, and, unless you undertake it, will, I am afraid, +never be executed by any other; at least I know none of this age that +is equal to it besides yourself. + +I am at present wholly immersed in country business, and begin to take +a delight in it. I wish I might hope to see you here some time, and +will not despair of it, when you engage in a work that will require +solitude and retirement. + + + +TO MR. SECRETARY CRAGGS + +_A bequest_ + + +_June_ 1719. + +DEAR SIR, + +I cannot wish that any of my writings should last longer than the +memory of our friendship, and therefore I thus publicly bequeath them +to you, in return for the many valuable instances of your affection. + +That they may come to you with as little disadvantage as possible, +I have left the care of them to one, whom, by the experience of some +years, I know well-qualified to answer my intentions. He has already +the honour and happiness of being under your protection; and as he +will very much stand in need of it, I cannot wish him better than +that he may continue to deserve the favour and countenance of such a +patron. + +I have no time to lay out in forming such compliments as would but ill +suit that familiarity between us which was once my greatest pleasure, +and will be my greatest honour hereafter. Instead of them, accept of +my hearty wishes that the great reputation you have acquired so early, +may increase more and more, and that you may long serve your country +with those excellent talents and unblemished integrity, which have so +powerfully recommended you to the most gracious and amiable monarch +that ever filled a throne. May the frankness and generosity of your +spirit continue to soften and subdue your enemies, and gain you many +friends, if possible, as sincere as yourself. When you have found +such, they cannot wish you more true happiness than I, who am with the +greatest zeal, dear sir, + +Your most entirely affectionate friend +and faithful obedient servant. + + + + +SIR RICHARD STEELE + +1672-1729 + + + +TO MARY SCURLOCK + +_An explicit declaration_ + + +11 _Aug._ 1707. + +Madam,--I writ you on Saturday, by Mrs. Warren, and give you this +trouble to urge the same request I made then; which was, that I may be +admitted to wait upon you. I should be very far from desiring this if +it were a transgression of the most severe rules to allow it. I know +you are very much above the little arts which are frequent in your +sex, of giving unnecessary torment to their admirers; I therefore hope +you will do so much justice to the generous passion I have for you, as +to let me have an opportunity of acquainting you upon what motives +I pretend to your good opinion. I shall not trouble you with my +sentiments till I know how they will be received; and as I know no +reason why the difference of sex should make our language to each +other differ from the ordinary rules of right reason, I shall affect +plainness and sincerity in my discourse to you, as much as other +lovers do perplexity and rapture. Instead of saying 'I shall die for +you', I profess I should be glad to lead my life with you. You are +as beautiful, as witty, as prudent, and as good-humoured as any woman +breathing; but, I must confess to you, I regard all these excellences +as you will please to direct them for my happiness or misery. With me, +madam, the only lasting motive to love, is the hope of its becoming +mutual. I beg of you to let Mrs. Warren send me word when I may attend +you. I promise you, I will talk of nothing but indifferent things; +though, at the same time, I know not how I shall approach you in the +tender moment of first seeing you after this declaration which has +been made by, madam, + +Your most obedient and most faithful +humble servant. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A pleasing transport_ + + +Smith Street, Westminster, 1707. + +Madam,--I lay down last night with your image in my thoughts, and +have awakened this morning in the same contemplation. The pleasing +transport with which I am delighted has a sweetness in it attended +with a train of ten thousand soft desires, anxieties, and cares. +The day arises on my hopes with new brightness; youth, beauty, and +innocence are the charming objects that steal me from myself, and give +me joys above the reach of ambition, pride, or glory. Believe me, fair +one, to throw myself at your feet is giving myself the highest bliss +I know on earth. Oh, hasten, ye minutes! bring on the happy morning +wherein to be ever hers will make me look down on thrones! Dear Molly, +I am tenderly, passionately, faithfully thine. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A lover betrays himself_ + + +St. James's Coffee House, 1 _Sept._ 1707 + +Madam,--It is the hardest thing in the world to be in love, and yet to +attend to business. As for me, all who speak to me find me out, and I +must lock myself up, or other people will do it for me. + +A gentleman asked me this morning, 'What news from Lisbon?' and I +answered, 'She's exquisitely handsome.' Another desired to know when I +had been last at Hampton Court. I replied, 'It will be on Tuesday come +se'nnight.' Pr'ythee allow me at least to kiss your hand before that +day, that my mind may be in some composure. O love! + + A thousand torments dwell about thee! + Yet who would live to live without thee? + +Methinks I could write a volume to you; but all the language on earth +would fail in saying how much, and with what disinterested passion, I +am ever yours. + + + +TO HIS WIFE + +_He proposes an outing_ + + +Lord Sunderland's Office, 19 May, 1708. + +Eleven o'clock. + +Dear Prue,--I desire you to get the coach and yourself ready as soon +as you can conveniently, and call for me here, from whence we will go +and spend some time together in the fresh air in free conference. Let +my best periwig be put in the coach-box, and my new shoes, for it is +a great comfort to be well dressed in agreeable company. You are vital +life to your obliged, affectionate husband, and humble servant. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_His greatest affliction_ + + +12 _Aug._ 1708. + +Madam,--I have your letter, wherein you let me know that the little +dispute we have had is far from being a trouble to you; nevertheless +I assure you, any disturbance between us is the greatest affliction to +me imaginable. You talk of the judgement of the world; I shall never +govern my actions by it, but by the rules of morality and right +reason. I love you better than the light of my eyes or the life-blood +in my heart; but you are also to understand that neither my sight +shall be so far enchanted, nor my affection so much master of me, +as to make me forget our common interest. To attend my business as +I ought, and improve my fortune, it is necessary that my time and +my will should be under no direction but my own.... I write all this +rather to explain my own thoughts to you, than to answer your letter +distinctly. I enclose it to you, that upon second thoughts, you may +see the disrespectful manner in which you treat + +Your affectionate, faithful husband. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Four characteristic notes_ + + +I + +From the Press, one in the morning, 30 _Sept._ 1710. + +Dear Prue,--I am very sleepy and tired, but could not think of closing +my eyes till I had told you I am, dearest creature, + +Your most affectionate and faithful husband. + + +II + +Bloomsbury Square, 24 _Dec._ 1713. + +Dear Prue,--I dine with Lord Halifax and shall be at home half hour +after six. For thee I die, for thee I languish. + + +III + +16 _Feb._ 1716-17. + +Dear Prue,--Sober or not, I am ever yours. + + +IV + +Thursday, 3 in the afternoon, 2 _May_, 1717. + +I had a very painful night last night; but, after a little chocolate +an hour or two ago, and a chicken for dinner, am much more at ease. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The natural slave of beauty_. + + +20 _June_, 1717. + +Dear Prue,--I have yours of the 14th, and am infinitely obliged to you +for the length of it. I do not know another whom I could commend for +that circumstance; but where we entirely love, the continuance of +anything they do to please us is a pleasure. As for your relations, +once for all, pray take it for granted, that my regard and conduct +towards all and singular of them shall be as you direct. + +I hope, by the grace of God, to continue what you wish me, every +way, an honest man. My wife and my children are the objects that have +wholly taken up my heart; and as I am not invited or encouraged in +anything which regards the public, I am easy under that neglect or +envy of my past actions, and cheerfully contract that diffusive spirit +within the interests of my own family. You are the head of us; and I +stoop to a female reign as being naturally made the slave of beauty. +But to prepare for our manner of living when we are again together, +give me leave to say, while I am here at leisure, and come to lie at +Chelsea, what I think may contribute to our better way of living. +I very much approve Mrs. Evans and her husband; and if you take my +advice, I would have them a being in our house, and Mrs. Clark the +care and inspection of the nursery. I would have you entirely +at leisure to pass your time with me in diversions, in books, in +entertainments, and no manner of business intrude upon us but at +stated times. For, though you are made to be the delight of my eyes, +and food of all my senses and faculties, yet a turn of care +and housewifery, and I know not what prepossession against +conversation-pleasures, robs me of the witty and the handsome woman +to a degree not to be expressed. I will work my brains and fingers to +procure us plenty of all things, and demand nothing of you but to take +delight in agreeable dresses, cheerful discourses, and gay sights, +attended by me. This may be done by putting the kitchen and the +nursery in the hands I propose; and I shall have nothing to do but to +pass as much time at home as I possibly can, in the best company in +the world. We cannot tell here what to think of the trial of my Lord +Oxford; if the ministry are in earnest in that, and I should see it +will be extended to a length of time, I will leave them to themselves, +and wait upon you. Miss Moll grows a mighty beauty, and she shall be +very prettily dressed, as likewise shall Betty and Eugene: and if +I throw away a little money in adorning my brats, I hope you will +forgive me: they are, I thank God, all very well; and the charming +form of their mother has tempered the likeness they bear to their +rough sire, who is, with the greatest fondness, + +Your most obliged and obedient husband. + + + + +JOHN GAY + +1685-1732 + + + +TO JONATHAN SWIFT + +_Concerning Gulliver_ + + +17 _Nov._ 1726. + +About ten days ago a book was published here of the travels of one +Gulliver, which has been the conversation of the whole town ever +since: the whole impression sold in a week: and nothing is more +diverting than to hear the different opinions people give of it, +though all agree in liking it extremely. It is generally said that you +are the author; but I am told the bookseller declares, he knows +not from what hand it came. From the highest to the lowest it is +universally read, from the cabinet-council to the nursery. The +politicians to a man agree, that it is free from particular +reflections, but that the satire on general societies of men is +too severe. Not but we now and then meet with people of greater +perspicuity, who are in search for particular applications in every +leaf; and it is highly probable we shall have keys published to +give light into Gulliver's design. Lord ---- is the person who least +approves it, blaming it as a design of evil consequence to depreciate +human nature, at which it cannot be wondered that he takes most +offence, being himself the most accomplished of his species, and so +losing more than any other of that praise which is due both to the +dignity and virtue of a man. Your friend, my Lord Harcourt, commends +it very much, though he thinks in some places the matter too far +carried. The Duchess Dowager of Marlborough is in raptures at it; she +says she can dream of nothing else since she read it: she declares +that she has now found out that her whole life has been lost in +caressing the worst part of mankind, and treating the best as her +foes: and that if she knew Gulliver, though he had been the worst +enemy she ever had, she should give up her present acquaintance for +his friendship. You may see by this, that you are not much injured +by being supposed the author of this piece. If you are, you have +disobliged us, and two or three of your best friends, in not giving +us the least hint of it while you were with us; and in particular Dr. +Arbuthnot, who says it is ten thousand pities he had not known it, he +could have added such abundance of things upon every subject. Among +lady critics, some have found out that Mr. Gulliver had a particular +malice to maids of honour. Those of them who frequent the church, say +his design is impious, and that it is depreciating the works of the +Creator. + +Notwithstanding, I am told the princess has read it with great +pleasure. As to other critics, they think the flying island is the +least entertaining; and so great an opinion the town have of the +impossibility of Gulliver's writing at all below himself, it is agreed +that part was not writ by the same hand, though this has its defenders +too. It has passed lords and commons, _nemine contradicente_; and the +whole town, men, women, and children, are quite full of it. + +Perhaps I may all this time be talking to you of a book you have never +seen, and which has not yet reached Ireland; if it has not, I believe +what we have said will be sufficient to recommend it to your reading, +and that you will order me to send it to you. + +But it will be much better to come over yourself, and read it here, +where you will have the pleasure of variety of commentators, to +explain the difficult passages to you. + +We all rejoice that you have fixed the precise time of your coming to +be _cum hirundine prima_; which we modern naturalists pronounce, +ought to be reckoned, contrary to Pliny, in this northern latitude of +fifty-two degrees, from the end of February, Styl. Greg., at furthest. +But to us, your friends, the coming of such a black swallow as you +will make a summer in the worst of seasons. We are no less glad at +your mention of Twickenham and Dawley; and in town you know, you have +a lodging at court. + +The princess is clothed in Irish silk; pray give our service to the +weavers. We are strangely surprised to hear that the bells in Ireland +ring without your money. I hope you do not write the thing that is +not. We are afraid that B---- hath been guilty of that crime, that you +(like a houyhnhnm) have treated him as a yahoo, and discarded him your +service. I fear you do not understand these modish terms, which every +creature now understands but yourself. + +You tell us your wine is bad, and that the clergy do not frequent your +house, which we look upon to be tautology. The best advice we can give +you is, to make them a present of your wine, and come away to better. + +You fancy we envy you, but you are mistaken; we envy those you are +with, for we cannot envy the man we love. Adieu. + + + + +ALEXANDER POPE + +1688-1744 + + + +TO WILLIAM WYCHERLEY + +_Dryden and his critics_ + + +Binfield in Windsor Forest, 26 _Dec_. 1704. + +It was certainly a great satisfaction to me to see and converse with +a man, whom in his writings I had so long known with pleasure; but +it was a high addition to it, to hear you, at our very first meeting, +doing justice to your dead friend Mr. Dryden. I was not so happy as to +know him: _Virgilium tantum vidi_. Had I been born early enough I +must have known and loved him: for I have been assured, not only +by yourself, but by Mr. Congreve and Sir William Trumbul, that his +personal qualities were as amiable as his poetical, notwithstanding +the many libellous misrepresentations of them, against which the +former of these gentlemen has told me he will one day vindicate him. I +suppose those injuries were begun by the violence of party, but it +is no doubt they were continued by envy at his success and fame. And +those scribblers who attacked him in his latter times, were only like +gnats in a summer's evening, which are never very troublesome but in +the finest and most glorious season; for his fire, like the sun's, +shined clearest towards its setting. + +You must not therefore imagine, that when you told me my own +performances were above those critics, I was so vain as to believe it; +and yet I may not be so humble as to think myself quite below their +notice. For critics, as they are birds of prey, have ever a natural +inclination to carrion: and though such poor writers as I are but +beggars, no beggar is so poor but he can keep a cur, and no author +is so beggarly but he can keep a critic. I am far from thinking the +attacks of such people any honour or dishonour even to me, much less +to Mr. Dryden. I agree with you that whatever lesser wits have arisen +since his death are but like stars appearing when the sun is set, that +twinkle only in his absence, and with the rays they have borrowed +from him. Our wit (as you call it) is but reflection or imitation, +therefore scarce to be called ours. True wit, I believe, may be +defined a justness of thought, and a facility of expression.... +However, this is far from a complete definition; pray help me to a +better, as I doubt not you can. + + + +TO JOSEPH ADDISON + +_A few thoughts from a rambling head_ + + +14 _Dec_. 1713. + +I have been lying in wait for my own imagination, this week and more, +and watching what thoughts came up in the whirl of the fancy, that +were worth communicating to you in a letter. But I am at length +convinced that my rambling head can produce nothing of that sort; so +I must e'en be content with telling you the old story, that I love +you heartily. I have often found by experience, that nature and +truth, though never so low or vulgar, are yet pleasing when openly and +artlessly represented: it would be diverting to me to read the very +letters of an infant, could it write its innocent inconsistencies and +tautologies just as it thought them. This makes me hope a letter from +me will not be unwelcome to you, when I am conscious I write with more +unreservedness than ever man wrote, or perhaps talked, to another. I +trust your good nature with the whole range of my follies, and really +love you so well, that I would rather you should pardon me than esteem +me; since one is an act of goodness and benevolence, the other a kind +of constrained deference. + +You cannot wonder my thoughts are scarce consistent, when I tell you +how they are distracted. Every hour of my life my mind is strangely +divided; this minute perhaps I am above the stars, with a thousand +systems round about me, looking forward into a vast abyss, and +losing my whole comprehension in the boundless space of creation, in +dialogues with Whiston and the astronomers; the next moment I am below +all trifles, grovelling with T---- in the very centre of nonsense: now +I am recreated with the brisk sallies and quick turns of wit, which +Mr. Steele, in his liveliest and freest humours, darts about him; and +now levelling my application to the insignificant observations and +quirks of grammar of C---- and D----. + +Good God! what an incongruous animal is man! how unsettled in his best +part, his soul; and how changing and variable in his frame of body! +the constancy of the one shook by every notion, the temperament of the +other affected by every blast of wind! What is he, altogether, but a +mighty inconsistency; sickness and pain is the lot of one half of him, +doubt and fear the portion of the other! What a bustle we make about +passing our time when all our space is but a point! what aims and +ambitions are crowded into this little instant of our life, which +(as Shakespeare finely worded it) is rounded with a sleep! Our whole +extent of being is no more, in the eye of Him who gave it, than a +scarce perceptible moment of duration. Those animals whose circle of +living is limited to three or four hours, as the naturalists tell us, +are yet as long-lived, and possess as wide a field of action as man, +if we consider him with a view to all space and all eternity. Who +knows what plots, what achievements a mite may perform in his kingdom +of a grain of dust, within his life of some minutes; and of how much +less consideration than even this, is the life of man in the sight of +God, who is for ever and ever? + +Who that thinks in this train, but must see the world, and its +contemptible grandeurs, lessen before him at every thought? It is +enough to make one remain stupefied in a poise of inaction, void of +all desires, of all designs, of all friendships. + +But we must return (through our very condition of being) to our narrow +selves, and those things that affect ourselves: our passions, our +interests flow in upon us and unphilosophize us into mere mortals. For +my part, I never return so much into myself, as when I think of +you, whose friendship is one of the best comforts I have for the +insignificancy of myself. + + + +TO JONATHAN SWIFT + +_Friends to posterity_ + + +23 _March_, 1727-8. + +I send you a very odd thing, a paper printed in Boston, in New +England, wherein you will find a real person, a member of their +parliament, of the name of Jonathan Gulliver. If the fame of that +traveller has travelled thither, it has travelled very quick, to have +folks christened already by the name of the supposed author. But if +you object that no child so lately christened could be arrived at +years of maturity to be elected into parliament, I reply (to solve the +riddle) that the person is an Anabaptist, and not christened till +full age, which sets all right. However it be, the accident is very +singular that these two names should be united. + +Mr. Gay's opera has been acted near forty days running, and will +certainly continue the whole season. So he has more than a fence about +his thousand pounds; he will soon be thinking of a fence about his two +thousand. Shall no one of us live as we would wish each other to live? +Shall he have no annuity, you no settlement on this side, and I +no prospect of getting to you on the other? This world is made for +Caesar,--as Cato said, for ambitious, false, or flattering people to +domineer in; nay, they would not, by their good will, leave us our +very books, thoughts, or words in quiet. I despise the world yet, I +assure you, more than either Gay or you, and the court more than all +the rest of the world. As for those scribblers for whom you apprehend +I would suppress my _Dulness_ (which, by the way, for the future you +are to call by a more pompous name, the _Dunciad_), how much that nest +of hornets are my regard will easily appear to you when you read the +_Treatise of the Bathos_. + +At all adventures, yours and mine shall stand linked as friends +to posterity, both in verse and prose, and (as Tully calls it) _in +consuetudine studiorum_. Would to God our persons could but as well +and as surely be inseparable! I find my other ties dropping from me; +some worn off, some torn off, some relaxing daily: my greatest, both +by duty, gratitude, and humanity, time is shaking every moment, and +it now hangs but by a thread! I am many years the older for living so +much with one so old; much the more helpless for having been so long +helped and tendered by her; much the more considerate and tender, for +a daily commerce with one who required me justly to be both to her; +and consequently the more melancholy and thoughtful; and the less fit +for others, who want only in a companion or a friend to be amused or +entertained. My constitution too has had its share of decay as well as +my spirits, and I am as much in the decline at forty as you at sixty. +I believe we should be fit to live together could I get a little more +health, which might make me not quite insupportable. Your deafness +would agree with my dulness; you would not want me to speak when +you could not hear. But God forbid you should be as destitute of the +social comforts of life as I must when I lose my mother; or that ever +you should lose your more useful acquaintance so utterly, as to turn +your thoughts to such a broken reed as I am, who could so ill supply +your wants. I am extremely troubled at the return of your deafness; +you cannot be too particular in the accounts of your health to me; +everything you do or say in this kind obliges me, nay, delights me, +to see the justice you do me in thinking me concerned in all your +concerns; so that though the pleasantest thing you can tell me be that +you are better or easier; next to that it pleases me that you make me +the person you would complain to. + +As the obtaining the love of valuable men is the happiest end I +know of this life, so the next felicity is to get rid of fools and +scoundrels; which I cannot but own to you was one part of my design in +falling upon these authors, whose incapacity is not greater than their +insincerity, and of whom I have always found (if I may quote myself), + + That each bad author is as bad a friend. + +This poem will rid me of these insects. + + Cedite, Romani scriptores, cedite, Graii; + _Nescio quid_ maius nascitur Iliade. + +I mean than _my Iliad_; and I call it _Nescio quid_, which is a degree +of modesty; but however, if it silence these fellows, it must be +something greater than any _Iliad_ in Christendom. Adieu. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A farming friend, and the Dunciad_ + + +Dawley, 28 _June_, 1728. + +I now hold the pen for my Lord Bolingbroke, who is reading your +letter between two haycocks, but his attention is somewhat diverted by +casting his eyes on the clouds, not in admiration of what you say, +but for fear of a shower. He is pleased with your placing him in the +triumvirate between yourself and me: though he says, that he doubts he +shall fare like Lepidus, while one of us runs away with all the power, +like Augustus, and another with all the pleasures, like Anthony. It is +upon a foresight of this that he has fitted up his farm, and you will +agree that his scheme of retreat at least is not founded upon weak +appearances. Upon his return from the Bath, all peccant humours, he +finds, are purged out of him; and his great temperance and economy are +so signal, that the first is fit for my constitution, and the latter +would enable you to lay up so much money as to buy a bishopric in +England. As to the return of his health and vigour, were you here, you +might inquire of his haymakers; but as to his temperance, I can answer +that (for one whole day) we have had nothing for dinner but mutton +broth, beans, and bacon, and a barn-door fowl. + +Now his lordship is run after his cart, I have a moment left to myself +to tell you, that I overheard him yesterday agree with a painter +for L200, to paint his country hall with trophies of rakes, spades, +prongs, &c., and other ornaments, merely to countenance his calling +this place a farm--now turn over a new leaf. + +He bids me assure you, he should be sorry not to have more schemes of +kindness for his friends than of ambition for himself; there, though +his schemes may be weak, the motives at least are strong; and he +says farther, if you could bear as great a fall and decrease of your +revenues, as he knows by experience he can, you would not live in +Ireland an hour. + +The _Dunciad_ is going to be printed in all pomp, with the +inscription, which makes me proudest. It will be attended with +_proeme, prolegomena, testimonia scriptorum, index authorum_, and +notes _variorum_. As to the latter, I desire you to read over the +text, and make a few in any way you like best; whether dry raillery, +upon the style and way of commenting of trivial critics; or humourous, +upon the authors in the poem; or historical, of persons, places, +times; or explanatory, or collecting the parallel passages of the +ancients. Adieu. I am pretty well, my mother not ill, Dr. Arbuthnot +vexed with his fever by intervals; I am afraid he declines, and we +shall lose a worthy man: I am troubled about him very much. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_An invitation to England_ + + +23 _March_, 1736-7. + +Though you were never to write to me, yet what you desired in your +last, that I would write often to you, would be a very easy task: for +every day I talk with you, and of you, in my heart; and I need only +set down what that is thinking of. The nearer I find myself verging to +that period of life which is to be labour and sorrow, the more I prop +myself upon those few supports that are left me. People in this state +are like props indeed; they cannot stand alone, but two or more of +them can stand, leaning and bearing upon one another. I wish you and I +might pass this part of life together. My only necessary care is at +an end. I am now my own master too much; my house is too large; my +gardens furnish too much wood and provision for my use. My servants +are sensible and tender of me; they have intermarried, and are become +rather low friends than servants; and to all those that I see here +with pleasure, they take a pleasure in being useful. I conclude this +is your case too in your domestic life, and I sometimes think of your +old housekeeper as my nurse, though I tremble at the sea, which only +divides us. As your fears are not so great as mine, and I firmly hope +your strength still much greater, is it utterly impossible it might +once more be some pleasure to you to see England? My sole motive in +proposing France to meet in, was the narrowness of the passage by sea +from hence, the physicians having told me the weakness of my breast, +&c., is such, as a sea-sickness might endanger my life. Though one or +two of our friends are gone since you saw your native country, there +remain a few more who will last so till death; and who I cannot but +hope have an attractive power to draw you back to a country which +cannot quite be sunk or enslaved, while such spirits remain. And let +me tell you, there are a few more of the same spirit, who would awaken +all your old ideas, and revive your hopes of her future recovery and +virtue. These look up to you with reverence, and would be animated by +the sight of him at whose soul they have taken fire in his writings, +and derived from thence as much love of their species as is consistent +with a contempt for the knaves in it. + +I could never be weary, except at the eyes, of writing to you; but my +real reason (and a strong one it is) for doing it so seldom, is fear; +fear of a very great and experienced evil, that of my letters being +kept by the partiality of friends, and passing into the hands and +malice of enemies, who publish them with all their imperfections on +their head, so that I write not on the common terms of honest men. + +Would to God you would come over with Lord Orrery, whose care of you +in the voyage I could so certainly depend on; and bring with you your +old housekeeper and two or three servants. I have room for all, a +heart for all, and (think what you will) a fortune for all. We could, +were we together, contrive to make our last days easy, and leave some +sort of monument, what friends two wits could be in spite of all the +fools in the world. Adieu. + + + + +SAMUEL RICHARDSON + +1689-1761 + + + +TO MISS MULSO + +_A discussion on love_ + + +3 _Sept_. 1751. + +In another place, you are offended with the word gratitude; as if your +idea of love excluded gratitude. + +And further on, you are offended that I call this same passion 'a +little selfish passion'. + +And you say that you have known few girls, and still fewer men, whom +you have thought 'capable of being in love'. + +'By this', proceed you, 'you will see that my ideas of the word love +are different from yours, when you call it a little selfish passion.' + +Now, madam, if that passion is not little and selfish that makes two +vehement souls prefer the gratification of each other, often to a +sense of duty, and always to the whole world without them, be pleased +to tell me what is? And pray be so good as to define to me what the +noble passion is, of which so few people of either sex are capable. +Give me your ideas of it. + +I put not this question as a puzzler, a bamboozler, but purely for +information; and that I may make my Sir Charles susceptible of the +generous (may I say generous?) flame, and yet know what he is about, +yet be a reasonable man. + +Harriet's passion is founded in gratitude for relief given her in a +great exigence. But the man who rescued her is not, it seems, to have +such a word as gratitude in his head, in return for her love. + +I repeat, that I will please you if I can; please you, Miss Mulso, +I here mean (before I meant not you particularly, my dear, but your +sex), in Sir Charles's character; and I sincerely declare, that I +would rather form his character to your liking, than to the liking of +three parts out of four of the persons I am acquainted with. + +You are one of my best girls, and best judges. Of whom have I the +opinion that I have of Miss Mulso on these nice subjects?--I ask +therefore repeatedly for your definition of the passion which you +dignify by the word noble; and from which you exclude everything mean, +little, or selfish. + +And you really think it marvellous that a young woman should find a +man of exalted merit to be in love with? Why, truly, I am half of your +mind; for how should people find what, in general, they do not seek? +Yet what good creatures are many girls! They will be in love for all +that. + +Why, yes, to be sure, they would be glad of a Sir Charles Grandison, +and prefer him even to a Lovelace, were he capable of being terribly +in love. And yet, I know one excellent girl who is afraid 'that ladies +in general will think him too wise'.--Dear, dear girls, help me to a +few monkey-tricks to throw into his character, in order to shield him +from contempt for his wisdom. + +'It is one of my maxims,' you say, 'that people even of bad hearts +will admire and love people of good ones.' Very true!--and yet +admiration and love, in the sense before us, do not always shake +hands, except at parting, and with an intention never to meet again. I +have known women who professed to admire good men, but have chosen +to marry men--not so good, when lovers of both sorts have tendered +themselves to their acceptance. There is something very pretty in the +sound of the word wild, added to the word fellow; and good sense is +a very grateful victim to be sacrificed on the altar of love. Fervour +and extravagance in expressions will please. How shall a woman, +who, moreover, loves to be admired, know a man's heart, but from +his lips?--Let him find flattery, and she will find credulity. Sweet +souls! can they be always contradicting? + +You believe it is not in human nature, however depraved, to prefer +evil to good in another, whatever people may do in themselves. Why, no +one would really think so, did not experience convince us that many, +very many young women, in the article of marriage, though not before +thought to be very depraved, are taken by this green sickness of the +soul, and prefer dirt and rubbish to wholesome diet. The result of the +matter is this, with very many young women: they will admire a good +man, but they will marry a bad one. Are not rakes pretty fellows? + +But one thing let me add, to comfort you in relation to Harriet's +difficulties: I intend to make her shine by her cordial approbation, +as she goes along, of every good action of her beloved. She is +humbled by her love (suspense in love is a mortifier) to think herself +inferior to his sisters; but I intend to raise her above them, even +in her own just opinion; and when she shines out the girl worthy of +a man, not exalt, but reward her, and at the same time make him think +himself highly rewarded by the love of so frank and so right an heart. + +There now!--Will that do, my Miss Mulso? + +I laid indeed a heavy hand on the good Clarissa. But I had begun with +her, with a view to the future saint in her character; and could she, +but by sufferings, shine as she does? + +Do you, my dear child, look upon me as your paternal friend. + + + + +LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU + +1689-1762 + + + +TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR + +_The Viennese court_ + + +Vienna, 14 _Sept_. o.s. [1716]. + +Though I have so lately troubled you, my dear sister, with a long +letter, yet I will keep my promise in giving you an account of my +first going to court. + +In order to that ceremony, I was squeezed up in a gown, and adorned +with a gorget and the other implements thereunto belonging: a dress +very inconvenient, but which certainly shews the neck and shape +to great advantage. I cannot forbear in this place giving you some +description of the fashions here, which are more monstrous and +contrary to all common sense and reason, than 'tis possible for you +to imagine. They build certain fabrics of gauze on their heads about +a yard high, consisting of three or four stories, fortified with +numberless yards of heavy ribbon. The foundation of this structure is +a thing they call a _Bourle_, which is exactly of the same shape +and kind, but about four times as big, as those rolls our prudent +milk-maids make use of to fix their pails upon. This machine they +cover with their own hair, which they mix with a great deal of false, +it being a particular beauty to have their heads too large to go into +a moderate tub. Their hair is prodigiously powdered, to conceal the +mixture, and set out with three or four rows of bodkins (wonderfully +large, that stick two or three inches from their hair), made of +diamonds, pearls, red, green, and yellow stones, that it certainly +requires as much art and experience to carry the load upright, as to +dance upon May-day with the garland. Their whalebone petticoats outdo +ours by several yards circumference, and cover some acres of ground. + +You may easily suppose how much this extraordinary dress sets off and +improves the natural ugliness with which God Almighty has been pleased +to endow them all generally. Even the lovely empress herself is +obliged to comply, in some degree, with these absurd fashions, which +they would not quit for all the world. I had a private audience +(according to ceremony) of half an hour, and then all the other ladies +were permitted to come make their court. I was perfectly charmed +with the empress: I cannot, however, tell you that her features are +regular; her eyes are not large, but have a lively look, full of +sweetness; her complexion the finest I ever saw; her nose and forehead +well-made, but her mouth has ten thousand charms that touch the +soul. When she smiles, 'tis with a beauty and sweetness that force +adoration. She has a vast quantity of fine fair hair; but then her +person!--one must speak of it poetically to do it rigid justice; all +that the poets have said of the mien of Juno, the air of Venus, comes +not up to the truth. The Graces move with her; the famous statue of +Medicis was not formed with more delicate proportion; nothing can be +added to the beauty of her neck and hands. Till I saw them, I did not +believe there were any in nature so perfect, and I was almost sorry +that my rank here did not permit me to kiss them; but they are kissed +sufficiently; for every body that waits on her pays that homage at +their entrance, and when they take leave. + +When the ladies were come in, she sat down to Quinze. I could not play +at a game I had never seen before, and she ordered me a seat at her +right hand, and had the goodness to talk to me very much, with that +grace so natural to her. I expected every moment when the men were to +come in to pay their court; but this drawing-room is very different +from that of England; no man enters it but the old grand-master, who +comes in to advertize the empress of the approach of the emperor. +His imperial majesty did me the honour of speaking to me in a very +obliging manner; but he never speaks to any of the other ladies; and +the whole passes with a gravity and air of ceremony that has something +very formal in it. + +The empress Amelia, dowager of the late emperor Joseph, came +this evening to wait on the reigning empress, followed by the two +archduchesses her daughters, who are very agreeable young princesses. +Their imperial majesties rise and go to meet her at the door of the +room, after which she is seated in an armed chair, next the empress, +and in the same manner at supper, and there the men had the permission +of paying their Court. The archduchesses sit on chairs with backs +without arms. The table is entirely served, and all the dishes set on +by the empress's maids of honour, which are twelve young ladies of the +first quality. They have no salary, but their chambers at court, where +they live in a sort of confinement, not being suffered to go to the +assemblies or public places in town, except in compliment to the +wedding of a sister maid, whom the empress always presents with her +picture set in diamonds. The three first of them are called _Ladies +of the Key_, and wear gold keys by their sides; but what I find most +pleasant, is the custom which obliges them, as long as they live, +after they have left the empress's service, to make her some present +every year on the day of her feast. Her majesty is served by no +married women but the _grande maitresse_, who is generally a widow of +the first quality, always very old, and is at the same time groom of +the stole, and mother of the maids. The dresses are not at all in the +figure they pretend to in England, being looked upon no otherwise than +as downright chambermaids. + +I had audience next day of the empress mother, a princess of great +virtue and goodness, but who piques herself so much on a violent +devotion; she is perpetually performing extraordinary acts of penance, +without having ever done anything to deserve them. She has the same +number of maids of honour, whom she suffers to go in colours; but she +herself never quits her mourning; and sure nothing can be more dismal +than the mourning here, even for a brother. There is not the least bit +of linen to be seen; all black crape instead of it. The neck, ears, +and side of the face covered with a plaited piece of the same stuff, +and the face that peeps out in the midst of it, looks as if it were +pilloried. The widows wear, over and above, a crape forehead cloth; +and in this solemn weed go to all the public places of diversion +without scruple. The next day I was to wait on the empress Amelia, who +is now at her palace of retirement half a mile from the town. I had +there the pleasure of seeing a diversion wholly new to me, but which +is the common amusement of this court. The empress herself was seated +on a little throne at the end of a fine alley in the garden, and on +each side of her were ranged two parties of her ladies of honour with +other young ladies of quality, headed by the two young archduchesses, +all dressed in their hair full of jewels, with fine light guns in +their hands; and at proper distances were placed three oval pictures, +which were the marks to be shot at. The first was that of a CUPID, +filling a bumper of Burgundy, and this motto, '_Tis easy to be valiant +here_. The second a FORTUNE, holding a garland in her hand, the motto, +_For her whom Fortune favours_. The third was a SWORD, with a laurel +wreath on the point, the motto, _Here is no shame to the vanquished_. +Near the empress was a gilded trophy wreathed with flowers, and made +of little crooks, on which were hung rich Turkish handkerchiefs, +tippets, ribbons, laces, etc., for the small prizes. The empress gave +the first with her own hand, which was a fine ruby ring set round +with diamonds, in a gold snuff-box. There was for the second, a little +Cupid set with brilliants; and besides these, a set of fine china for +a tea-table enchased in gold, japan trunks, fans, and many gallantries +of the same nature. All the men of quality at Vienna were spectators; +but only the ladies had permission to shoot, and the Archduchess +Amelia carried off the first prize. I was very well pleased with +having seen this entertainment, and I do not know but it might make as +good a figure as the prize-shooting in the _Eneid_, if I could write +as well as Virgil. This is the favourite pleasure of the emperor, and +there is rarely a week without some feast of this kind, which makes +the young ladies skilful enough to defend a fort, and they laughed +very much to see me afraid to handle a gun. + +My dear sister, you will easily pardon an abrupt conclusion. I +believe, by this time, you are ready to fear I would never conclude at +all. + + + +To MRS. SARAH CHISWELL + +_Ingrafting for small-pox_ + + +Adrianople, 1 _April_, O.S. [1717]. + +In my opinion, dear S., I ought rather to quarrel with you for not +answering my Nimeguen letter of August till December, than to excuse +my not writing again till now. I am sure there is on my side a very +good excuse for silence, having gone such tiresome land-journeys, +though I don't find the conclusion of them so bad as you seem to +imagine. I am very easy here, and not in the solitude you fancy me. +The great number of Greek, French, English, and Italians, that are +under our protection, make their court to me from morning till night; +and, I'll assure you, are many of them very fine ladies; for there is +no possibility for a Christian to live easily under this government +but by the protection of an embassador--and the richer they are, the +greater their danger. + +Those dreadful stories you have heard of the plague have very little +foundation in truth. I own I have much ado to reconcile myself to the +sound of a word which has always given me such terrible ideas, though +I am convinced there is little more in it than a fever. As a proof we +passed through two or three towns most violently infected. In the +very next house where we lay (in one of them) two persons died of it. +Luckily for me, I knew nothing of the matter; and I was made believe, +that our second cook who fell ill here, had only a great cold. +However, we left our doctor to take care of him, and yesterday they +both arrived here in good health; and now I am let into the secret +that he has had the _plague_. There are many that escape it; neither +is the air ever infected. I am persuaded that it would be as easy to +root it out here as out of Italy and France; but it does so little +mischief, they are not very solicitous about it, and are content to +suffer this distemper instead of our variety, which they are utterly +unacquainted with. + +_A propos_ of distempers: I am going to tell you a thing that I am +sure will make you wish yourself here. The small-pox, so fatal and +so general among us, is here entirely harmless by the invention of +_ingrafting_, which is the term they give it. There is a set of +old women who make it their business to perform the operation every +autumn, in the month of September, when the great heat is abated. +People send to one another to know if any of their family has a mind +to have the small-pox: they make parties for this purpose, and when +they are met (commonly fifteen or sixteen together) the old woman +comes with a nut-shell full of the matter of the best sort of +small-pox, and asks what veins you please to have opened. She +immediately rips open that you offer to her with a large needle (which +gives you no more pain than a common scratch), and puts into the vein +as much venom as can lie upon the head of her needle, and after that +binds up the little wound with a hollow bit of shell; and in this +manner opens four or five veins. The Grecians have commonly the +superstition of opening one in the middle of the forehead, in each +arm, and on the breast, to mark the sign of the cross; but this has +a very ill effect, all these wounds leaving little scars, and is not +done by those that are not superstitious, who choose to have them in +the legs, or that part of the arm that is concealed. The children +or young patients play together all the rest of the day, and are in +perfect health to the eighth. Then the fever begins to seize them, +and they keep their beds two days, very seldom three. They have very +rarely above twenty or thirty in their faces, which never mark; and in +eight days' time they are as well as before their illness. Where they +are wounded, there remain running sores during the distemper, which I +don't doubt is a great relief to it. Every year thousands undergo this +operation; and the French embassador says pleasantly, that they take +the small-pox here by way of diversion, as they take the waters in +other countries. There is no example of any one that has died in it; +and you may believe I am very well satisfied of the safety of the +experiment, since I intend to try it on my dear little son. + +I am patriot enough to take pains to bring this useful invention into +fashion in England; and I should not fail to write to some of our +doctors very particularly about it, if I knew any one of them that +I thought had virtue enough to destroy such a considerable branch +of their revenue for the good of mankind. But that distemper is too +beneficial to them not to expose to all their resentment the hardy +wight that should undertake to put an end to it. Perhaps, if I live +to return, I may, however, have courage to war with them. Upon this +occasion admire the heroism in the heart of your friend. + + + + +TO THE COUNTESS OF BRISTOL + +_The Grand Signior a slave_ + + +Adrianople, 1 _April_, o.s. 1717. + +As I never can forget the smallest of your ladyship's commands, my +first business here has been to inquire after the stuffs you ordered +me to look for, without being able to find what you would like. The +difference of the dress here and at London is so great, the same sort +of things are not proper for _caftans_ and _manteaus_. However, I will +not give over my search, but renew it again at Constantinople, though +I have reason to believe there is nothing finer than what is to +be found here, being the present residence of the court. The Grand +Signior's eldest daughter was married some few days before I came; and +upon that occasion the Turkish ladies display all their magnificence. +The bride was conducted to her husband's house in very great +splendour. She is widow of the late Vizier, who was killed at +Peterwaradin, though that ought rather to be called a contract than a +marriage, not having ever lived with him: however, the greatest part +of his wealth is hers. He had the permission of visiting her in the +seraglio; and, being one of the handsomest men in the empire, had very +much engaged her affections.--When she saw this second husband, who is +at least fifty, she could not forbear bursting into tears. He is a man +of merit, and the declared favourite of the Sultan (which they call +_mosayp_); but that is not enough to make him pleasing in the eyes of +a girl of thirteen. + +The government here is entirely in the hands of the army: and the +Grand Signior, with all his absolute power, as much a slave as any of +his subjects, and trembles at a janissary's frown. Here is, indeed, +a much greater appearance of subjection than among us: a minister of +state is not spoken to, but upon the knee; should a reflection on his +conduct be dropped in a coffee-house (for they have spies everywhere), +the house would be razed to the ground, and perhaps the whole company +put to the torture. No huzzaing mobs, senseless pamphlets, and tavern +disputes about politics: + + A consequential ill that freedom draws; + A bad effect,--but from a noble cause. + +None of our harmless calling names! but when a minister here +displeases the people, in three hours' time he is dragged even from +his master's arms. They cut off his hands, head, and feet, and throw +them before the palace gate, with all the respect in the world; while +that Sultan (to whom they all profess an unlimited adoration) sits +trembling in his apartment, and dare neither defend nor revenge his +favourite. This is the blessed condition of the most absolute monarch +upon earth, who owns no _law_ but his _will_. I cannot help wishing, +in the loyalty of my heart, that the parliament would send hither a +ship-load of your passive-obedient men, that they might see arbitrary +government in its clearest strongest light, where it is hard to judge +whether the prince, people, or ministers, are most miserable. I could +make many reflections on this subject; but I know, madam, your own +good sense has already furnished you with better than I am capable of. + +I went yesterday with the French embassadors to see the Grand Signior +in his passage to the mosque. He was preceded by a numerous guard of +janissaries, with vast white feathers on their heads, _spahis_ +and _bostangees_ (these are foot and horse guards), and the royal +gardeners, which are a very considerable body of men, dressed in +different habits of fine lively colours, that, at a distance, +they appeared like a parterre of tulips. After them the aga of the +janissaries, in a robe of purple velvet, lined with silver tissue, +his horse led by two slaves richly dressed. Next him the _Kyzlar-aga_ +(your ladyship knows this is the chief guardian of the seraglio +ladies) in a deep yellow cloth (which suited very well to his black +face) lined with sables, and last his Sublimity himself, in green +lined with the fur of a black Muscovite fox, which is supposed worth +a thousand pounds sterling, mounted on a fine horse, with furniture +embroidered with jewels. Six more horses richly furnished were led +after him; and two of his principal courtiers bore, one his gold, and +the other his silver coffee-pot, on a staff; another carried a silver +stool on his head for him to sit on. + +It would be too tedious to tell your ladyship the various dresses +and turbans by which their rank is distinguished; but they were +all extremely rich and gay, to the number of some thousands; that, +perhaps, there cannot be seen a more beautiful procession. The Sultan +appeared to us a handsome man of about forty, with a very graceful +air, but something severe in his countenance, his eyes very full and +black. He happened to stop under the window where we stood, and (I +suppose being told who we were) looked upon us very attentively, +that we had full leisure to consider him, and the French embassadress +agreed with me as to his good mien: I see that lady very often; she is +young, and her conversation would be a great relief to me, if I could +persuade her to live without those forms and ceremonies that make +life formal and tiresome. But she is so delighted with her guards, her +four-and-twenty footmen, gentlemen ushers, etc., that she would rather +die than make me a visit without them: not to reckon a coachful of +attending damsels yclep'd maids of honour. What vexes me is, that as +long as she will visit with a troublesome equipage, I am obliged to do +the same: however, our mutual interest makes us much together. + +I went with her the other day all round the town, in an open gilt +chariot, with our joint train of attendants, preceded by our guards, +who might have summoned the people to see what they had never seen, +nor ever would see again--two young Christian embassadresses never yet +having been in this country at the same time, nor I believe ever will +again. Your ladyship may easily imagine that we drew a vast crowd +of spectators, but all silent as death. If any of them had taken the +liberties of our mob upon any strange sight, our janissaries had made +no scruple of falling on them with their scimitars, without danger for +so doing, being above law. + +Yet these people have some good qualities; they are very zealous and +faithful where they serve, and look upon it as their business to fight +for you upon all occasions. Of this I had a very pleasant instance in +a village on this side Philipopolis, where we were met by our domestic +guard. I happened to bespeak pigeons for my supper, upon which one of +my janissaries went immediately to the Cadi (the chief civil officer +of the town), and ordered him to send in some dozens. The poor man +answered that he had already sent about, but could get none. My +janissary, in the height of his zeal for my service, immediately +locked him up prisoner in his room, telling him he deserved death for +his impudence, in offering to excuse his not obeying my command; but, +out of respect to me, he would not punish him but by my order, and +accordingly, came very gravely to me, to ask what should be done to +him; adding, by way of compliment, that if I pleased he would bring me +his head. This may give you some idea of the unlimited power of these +fellows, who are all sworn brothers, and bound to revenge the injuries +done to one another, whether at Cairo, Aleppo, or any part of the +world; and this inviolable league makes them so powerful, that the +greatest man at court never speaks to them but in a flattering +tone; and in Asia, any man that is rich is forced to enrol himself a +janissary, to secure his estate. + +But I have already said enough; and I dare swear, dear madam, that, by +this time, 'tis a very comfortable reflection to you that there is no +possibility of your receiving such a tedious letter but once in +six months; 'tis that consideration has given me the assurance to +entertain you so long, and will, I hope, plead the excuse of, dear +madam, &c. + + + +To THE COUNTESS OF MAR + +_The Grand Vizier's lady_ + + +Adrianople, 18 _April_, O.S. [1717]. + +I wrote to you, dear sister, and to all my other English +correspondents, by the last ship, and only Heaven can tell when I +shall have another opportunity of sending to you; but I cannot forbear +writing, though perhaps my letter may lie upon my hands this two +months. To confess the truth, my head is so full of my entertainment +yesterday, that 'tis absolutely necessary for my own repose to give it +some vent. Without farther preface, I will then begin my story. I was +invited to dine with the Grand Vizier's lady, and it was with a great +deal of pleasure I prepared myself for an entertainment which was +never given before to any Christian. I thought I should very little +satisfy her curiosity (which I did not doubt was a considerable +motive to the invitation) by going in a dress she was used to see, and +therefore dressed myself in the court habit of Vienna, which is much +more magnificent than ours. However, I chose to go _incognita_, to +avoid any disputes about ceremony, and went in a Turkish coach, only +attended by my woman that held up my train, and the Greek lady who was +my interpretress. I was met at the court door by her black eunuch, +who helped me out of the coach with great respect, and conducted me +through several rooms, where her she-slaves, finely dressed, were +ranged on each side. In the innermost I found the lady sitting on her +sofa, in a sable vest. She advanced to meet me, and presented me half +a dozen of her friends with great civility. She seemed a very good +woman, near fifty years old. I was surprised to observe so little +magnificence in her house, the furniture being all very moderate; and +except the habits and number of her slaves, nothing about her that +appeared expensive. She guessed at my thoughts, and told me that +she was no longer of an age to spend either her time or money in +superfluities; that her whole expense was in charity, and her whole +employment praying to God. There was no affectation in this speech; +both she and her husband are entirely given up to devotion. He never +looks upon any other woman; and, what is much more extraordinary, +touches no bribes, notwithstanding the example of all his +predecessors. He is so scrupulous on this point, he would not accept +Mr. Wortley's present, till he had been assured over and over that +it was a settled perquisite of his place at the entrance of every +ambassador. + +She entertained me with all kind of civility till dinner came in, +which was served, one dish at a time, to a vast number, all finely +dressed after their manner, which I do not think so bad as you have +perhaps heard it represented. I am a very good judge of their eating, +having lived three weeks in the house of an _effendi_ at Belgrade, who +gave us very magnificent dinners, dressed by his own cooks, which the +first week pleased me extremely; but I own I then began to grow weary +of it, and desired our own cook might add a dish or two after our +manner. But I attribute this to custom. I am very much inclined to +believe an Indian, that had never tasted of either, would prefer their +cookery to ours. Their sauces are very high, all the roast very much +done. They use a great deal of rich spice. The soup is served for the +last dish; and they have at least as great variety of ragouts as we +have. I was very sorry I could not eat of as many as the good lady +would have had me, who was very earnest in serving me of everything. +The treat concluded with coffee and perfumes, which is a high mark +of respect; two slaves kneeling censed my hair, clothes, and +handkerchief. After this ceremony, she commanded her slaves to play +and dance, which they did with their guitars in their hands; and +she excused to me their want of skill, saying she took no care to +accomplish them in that art. + +I returned her thanks, and soon after took my leave. I was conducted +back in the same manner I entered; and would have gone straight to my +own house; but the Greek lady with me earnestly solicited me to visit +the _Kiyaya's_ lady, saying, he was the second officer in the empire, +and ought indeed to be looked upon as the first, the Grand Vizier +having only the name, while he exercised the authority. I had found so +little diversion in this harem, that I had no mind to go into another. +But her importunity prevailed with me, and I am extreme glad that I +was so complaisant. + +All things here were with quite another air than at the Grand +Vizier's; and the very house confessed the difference between an old +devotee and a young beauty. It was nicely clean and magnificent. I +was met at the door by two black eunuchs, who led me through a long +gallery between two ranks of beautiful young girls, with their hair +finely plaited, almost hanging to their feet, all dressed in fine +light damasks, brocaded with silver. I was sorry that decency did not +permit me to stop to consider them nearer. But that thought was lost +upon my entrance into a large room, or rather pavilion, built round +with gilded sashes, which were most of them thrown up, and the trees +planted near them gave an agreeable shade, which hindered the sun from +being troublesome. The jessamines and honeysuckles that twisted round +their trunks, shedding a soft perfume, increased by a white marble +fountain playing sweet water in the lower part of the room, which fell +into three or four basins with a pleasing sound. The roof was painted +with all sort of flowers, falling out of gilded baskets, that seemed +tumbling down. On a sofa, raised three steps, and covered with fine +Persian carpets, sat the _Kiyaya's_ lady, leaning on cushions of white +satin, embroidered; and at her feet sat two young girls, the eldest +about twelve years old, lovely as angels, dressed perfectly rich, and +almost covered with jewels. But they were hardly seen near the fair +Fatima (for that is her name), so much her beauty effaced every thing +I have seen, all that has been called lovely either in England +or Germany, and must own that I never saw any thing so gloriously +beautiful, nor can I recollect a face that would have been taken +notice of near hers. She stood up to receive me, saluting me after +their fashion, putting her hand upon her heart with a sweetness +full of majesty, that no court breeding could ever give. She ordered +cushions to be given to me, and took care to place me in the corner, +which is the place of honour. I confess, though the Greek lady had +before given me a great opinion of her beauty, I was so struck with +admiration, that I could not for some time speak to her, being wholly +taken up in gazing. That surprising harmony of features! that charming +result of the whole! that exact proportion of body! that lovely bloom +of complexion unsullied by art! the unutterable enchantment of her +smile!--But her eyes!--large and black, with all the soft languishment +of the blue! every turn of her face discovering some new charm. + +After my first surprise was over, I endeavoured, by nicely examining +her face, to find out some imperfection, without any fruit of my +search, but being clearly convinced of the error of that vulgar +notion, that a face perfectly regular would not be agreeable: nature +having done for her with more success, what Apelles is said to have +essayed, by a collection of the most exact features, to form a perfect +face, and to that, a behaviour, so full of grace and sweetness, such +easy motions, with an air so majestic, yet free from stiffness or +affectation, that I am persuaded, could she be suddenly transported +upon the most polite throne of Europe, nobody would think her other +than born and bred to be a queen, though educated in a country we call +barbarous. To say all in a word, our most celebrated English beauties +would vanish near her. + +She was dressed in a _caftan_ of gold brocade, flowered with silver, +very well fitted to her shape, and shewing to advantage the beauty +of her bosom, only shaded by the thin guaze of her shift. Her +drawers were pale pink, green and silver, her slippers white, finely +embroidered; her lovely arms adorned with bracelets of diamonds, and +her broad girdle set round with diamonds; upon her head a rich Turkish +handkerchief of pink and silver, her own fine black hair hanging a +great length in various tresses, and on one side of her head some +bodkins of jewels. I am afraid you will accuse me of extravagance +in this description. I think I have read somewhere that women always +speak in rapture when they speak of beauty, but I cannot imagine why +they should not be allowed to do so. I rather think it virtue to be +able to admire without any mixture of desire or envy. The gravest +writers have spoken with great warmth of some celebrated pictures +and statues. The workmanship of Heaven certainly excels all our weak +imitations, and, I think, has a much better claim to our praise. For +me, I am not ashamed to own I took more pleasure in looking on the +beauteous Fatima, than the finest piece of sculpture could have given +me. + +She told me the two girls at her feet were her daughters, though she +appeared too young to be their mother. Her fair maids were ranged +below the sofa, to the number of twenty, and put me in mind of the +pictures of the ancient nymphs. I did not think all nature could have +furnished such a scene of beauty. She made them a sign to play and +dance. Four of them immediately began to play some soft airs on +instruments between a lute and a guitar, which they accompanied +with their voices, while the others danced by turns. This dance +was very different from what I had seen before. Nothing could +be more artful.... The tunes so soft!--the motions so +languishing!--accompanied with pauses and dying eyes! half-falling +back, and then recovering themselves in so artful a manner.... I +suppose you may have read that the Turks have no music but what is +shocking to the ears; but this account is from those who never heard +any, but what is played in the streets, and is just as reasonable as +if a foreigner should take his ideas of the English music from the +bladder and string, and marrowbone and cleavers. I can assure you that +the music is extremely pathetic; 'tis true I am inclined to prefer the +Italian, but perhaps I am partial. I am acquainted with a Greek lady +who sings better than Mrs. Robinson, and is very well skilled in both, +who gives the preference to the Turkish. 'Tis certain they have very +fine natural voices; these were very agreeable. When the dance was +over, four fair slaves came into the room with silver censers in their +hands, and perfumed the room with amber, aloes-wood, and other scents. +After this they served me coffee upon their knees in the finest japan +china, with _soucoupes_ of silver, gilt. The lovely Fatima entertained +me all this while in the most polite agreeable manner, calling me +often _Guzel sultanum_, or the beautiful sultana, and desiring my +friendship with the best grace in the world, lamenting that she could +not entertain me in my own language. + +When I took my leave, two maids brought in a fine silver basket of +embroidered handkerchiefs; she begged I would wear the richest for her +sake, and gave the others to my woman and interpretress. I returned +through the same ceremonies as before, and could not help fancying I +had been some time in Mahomet's paradise, so much I was charmed with +what I had seen. I know not how the relation of it appears to you. +I wish it may give you part of my pleasure; for I would have my dear +sister share in all the diversions of, &c. + + + +To THE COUNTESS OF BUTE + +_Her grand-daughter's education_ + + +28 _Jan_. N.S. [1753]. + +Dear child, + +You have given me a great deal of satisfaction by your account of +your eldest daughter. I am particularly pleased to hear she is a good +arithmetician; it is the best proof of understanding: the knowledge of +numbers is one of the chief distinctions between us and the brutes. +If there is anything in blood, you may reasonably expect your children +should be endowed with an uncommon share of good sense. Mr. Wortley's +family and mine have both produced some of the greatest men that have +been born in England: I mean Admiral Sandwich, and my grandfather, +who was distinguished by the name of Wise William. I have heard Lord +Bute's father mentioned as an extraordinary genius, though he had not +many opportunities of showing it; and his uncle, the present Duke of +Argyll, has one of the best heads I ever knew. I will therefore +speak to you as supposing Lady Mary not only capable, but desirous +of learning: in that case by all means let her be indulged in it. You +will tell me I did not make it a part of your education: your prospect +was very different from hers. As you had no defect either in mind +or person to hinder, and much in your circumstances to attract the +highest offers, it seemed your business to learn how to live in the +world, as it is hers to know how to be easy out of it. It is the +common error of builders and parents to follow some plan they think +beautiful (and perhaps is so), without considering that nothing is +beautiful that is displaced. Hence we see so many edifices raised that +the raisers can never inhabit, being too large for their fortunes. +Vistas are laid open over barren heaths, and apartments contrived +for a coolness very agreeable in Italy, but killing in the north of +Britain: thus every woman endeavours to breed her daughter a fine +lady, qualifying her for a station in which she will never appear, and +at the same time incapacitating her for that retirement to which she +is destined. Learning, if she has a real taste for it, will not only +make her contented, but happy in it. No entertainment is so cheap as +reading, nor any pleasure so lasting. She will not want new fashions, +nor regret the loss of expensive diversions, or variety of company, +if she can be amused with an author in her closet. To render this +amusement extensive, she should be permitted to learn the languages. +I have heard it lamented that boys lose so many years in mere learning +of words: this is no objection to a girl, whose time is not so +precious: she cannot advance herself in any profession, and has +therefore more hours to spare; and as you say her memory is good, she +will be very agreeably employed this way. There are two cautions to +be given on this subject: first, not to think herself learned when +she can read Latin, or even Greek. Languages are more properly to be +called vehicles of learning than learning itself, as may be observed +in many schoolmasters, who, though perhaps critics in grammar, are the +most ignorant fellows upon earth. True knowledge consists in knowing +things, not words. I would wish her no further a linguist than to +enable her to read books in their originals, that are often corrupted, +and always injured, by translations. Two hours' application every +morning will bring this about much sooner than you can imagine, and +she will have leisure enough besides to run over the English poetry, +which is a more important part of a woman's education than it is +generally supposed. Many a young damsel has been ruined by a fine copy +of verses, which she would have laughed at if she had known it had +been stolen from Mr. Waller. I remember, when I was a girl, I saved +one of my companions from destruction, who communicated to me an +epistle she was quite charmed with. As she had a natural good taste, +she observed the lines were not so smooth as Prior's or Pope's, but +had more thought and spirit than any of theirs. She was wonderfully +delighted with such a demonstration of her lover's sense and passion, +and not a little pleased with her own charms, that had force enough +to inspire such elegancies. In the midst of this triumph I showed +her that they were taken from Randolph's poems, and the unfortunate +transcriber was dismissed with the scorn he deserved. To say truth, +the poor plagiary was very unlucky to fall into my hands; that +author being no longer in fashion, would have escaped any one of less +universal reading than myself. You should encourage your daughter to +talk over with you what she reads; and, as you are very capable of +distinguishing, take care she does not mistake pert folly for wit +and humour, or rhyme for poetry, which are the common errors of young +people, and have a train of ill consequences. The second caution to +be given her (and which is most absolutely necessary) is to conceal +whatever learning she attains, with as much solicitude as she would +hide crookedness or lameness; the parade of it can only serve to draw +on her the envy, and consequently the most inveterate hatred, of all +he and she fools, which will certainly be at least three parts in four +of all her acquaintance. The use of knowledge in our sex, besides the +amusement of solitude, is to moderate the passions, and learn to be +contented with a small expense, which are the certain effects of a +studious life; and it may be preferable even to that fame which men +have engrossed to themselves, and will not suffer us to share. +You will tell me I have not observed this rule myself; but you +are mistaken: it is only inevitable accident that has given me any +reputation that way. I have always carefully avoided it, and ever +thought it a misfortune. The explanation of this paragraph would +occasion a long digression, which I will not trouble you with, it +being my present design only to say what I think useful for the +instruction of my granddaughter, which I have much at heart. If she +has the same inclination (I should say passion) for learning that I +was born with, history, geography, and philosophy will furnish her +with materials to pass away cheerfully a longer life than is allotted +to mortals. I believe there are few heads capable of making Sir I. +Newton's calculations, but the result of them is not difficult to be +understood by a moderate capacity. Do not fear this should make her +affect the character of Lady----, or Lady----, or Mrs.----: those +women are ridiculous, not because they have learning, but because they +have it not. One thinks herself a complete historian, after reading +Echard's Roman History; another a profound philosopher, having got +by heart some of Pope's unintelligible essays; and a third an able +divine, on the strength of Whitefield's sermons: thus you hear them +screaming politics and controversy. + +It is a saying of Thucydides, ignorance is bold, and knowledge +reserved. Indeed, it is impossible to be far advanced in it without +being more humbled by a conviction of human ignorance than elated by +learning. At the same time I recommend books, I neither exclude work +nor drawing. I think it as scandalous for a woman not to know how to +use a needle, as for a man not to know how to use a sword. I was once +extremely fond of my pencil, and it was a great mortification to +me when my father turned off my master, having made a considerable +progress for a short time I learnt. My over-eagerness in the pursuit +of it had brought a weakness on my eyes, that made it necessary to +leave it off; and all the advantage I got was the improvement of my +hand. I see, by hers, that practice will make her a ready writer: +she may attain it by serving you for a secretary, when your health or +affairs make it troublesome to you to write yourself; and custom will +make it an agreeable amusement to her. She cannot have too many for +that station of life which will probably be her fate. The ultimate end +of your education was to make you a good wife (and I have the comfort +to hear that you are one): hers ought to be, to make her happy in +a virgin state. I will not say it is happier; but it is undoubtedly +safer than any marriage. In a lottery, where there are (at the lowest +computation) ten thousand blanks to a prize, it is the most prudent +choice not to venture. I have always been so thoroughly persuaded of +this truth, that, notwithstanding the flattering views I had for you +(as I never intended you a sacrifice to my vanity), I thought I owed +you the justice to lay before you all the hazards attending matrimony: +you may recollect I did so in the strongest manner. Perhaps you may +have more success in the instructing your daughter: she has so much +company at home, she will not need seeking it abroad, and will more +readily take the notions you think fit to give her. As you were alone +in my family, it would have been thought a great cruelty to suffer +you no companions of your own age, especially having so many near +relations, and I do not wonder their opinions influenced yours. I was +not sorry to see you not determined on a single life, knowing it was +not your father's intention, and contented myself with endeavouring to +make your home so easy that you might not be in haste to leave it. + +I am afraid you will think this a very long and insignificant letter. +I hope the kindness of the design will excuse it, being willing to +give you every proof in my power that I am, + +Your most affectionate mother. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Fielding and other authors_ + + +Lovere, 22 _Sept_. [1755]. + +MY DEAR CHILD, + +I received, two days ago, the box of books you were so kind to +send; but I can scarce say whether my pleasure or disappointment was +greatest. I was much pleased to see before me a fund of amusement, but +heartily vexed to find your letter consisting only of three lines +and a half. Why will you not employ Lady Mary as secretary, if it is +troublesome to you to write? I have told you over and over, you may at +the same time oblige your mother and improve your daughter, both +which I should think very agreeable to yourself. You can never want +something to say. The history of your nursery, if you had no other +subject to write on, would be very acceptable to me. I am such a +stranger to everything in England, I should be glad to hear more +particulars relating to the families I am acquainted with: if +Miss Liddel marries the Lord Euston I knew, or his nephew, who has +succeeded him; if Lord Berkeley has left children; and several trifles +of that sort, that would be a satisfaction to my curiosity. I am +sorry for H. Fielding's death, not only as I shall read no more of his +writings, but I believe he lost more than others, as no man enjoyed +life more than he did, though few had less reason to do so, the +highest of his preferment being raking in the lowest sinks of vice and +misery. I should think it a nobler and less nauseous employment to +be one of the staff officers that conduct the nocturnal weddings. +His happy constitution (even when he had, with great pains, half +demolished it) made him forget everything when he was before a venison +pasty, or over a flask of champagne; and I am persuaded he has known +more happy moments than any prince upon earth. His natural spirits +gave him rapture with his cook-maid, and cheerfulness when he was +starving in a garret. There was a great similitude between his +character and that of Sir Richard Steele. He had the advantage both +in learning, and, in my opinion, genius: they both agreed in wanting +money in spite of all their friends, and would have wanted it, if +their hereditary lands had been as extensive as their imagination; +yet each one of them so formed for happiness, it is a pity he was not +immortal.... This Richardson is a strange fellow. I heartily +despise him, and eagerly read him, nay, sob over his works in a most +scandalous manner. The first two tomes of _Clarissa_ touched me, as +being very resembling to my maiden days; and I find in the pictures of +Sir Thomas Grandison and his lady, what I have heard of my mother, and +seen of my father.... + + + + +PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE, EARL + OF CHESTERFIELD + +1694-1773 + + + +TO HIS SON + +_Dancing_ + + +Dublin Castle, 29 _Nov_. 1745. + +DEAR BOY, + +I have received your last Saturday's performance, with which I am very +well satisfied. I know or have heard of no Mr. St. Maurice here; and +young Pain, whom I have made an ensign, was here upon the spot, as +were every one of those I have named in these new levies. + +Now that the Christmas breaking-up draws near, I have ordered Mr. +Desnoyers to go to you, during that time, to teach you to dance. I +desire that you will particularly attend to the graceful motion of +your arms; which with the manner of putting on your hat, and giving +your hand, is all that a gentleman need attend to. Dancing is +in itself a very trifling, silly thing; but it is one of those +established follies to which people of sense are sometimes obliged +to conform; and then they should be able to do it well. And though I +would not have you a dancer, yet when you do dance, I would have you +dance well; as I would have you do everything you do, well. There is +no one thing so trifling, but which (if it is to be done at all) ought +to be done well; and I have often told you that I wish you even +played at pitch, and cricket, better than any boy at Westminster. For +instance, dress is a very foolish thing; and yet it is a very foolish +thing for a man not to be well dressed, according to his rank and +way of life; and it is so far from being a disparagement to any man's +understanding, that it is rather a proof of it, to be as well dressed +as those whom he lives with: the difference in this case between a man +of sense and a fop is, that the fop values himself upon his dress; and +the man of sense laughs at it, at the same time that he knows he must +not neglect it. There are a thousand foolish customs of this kind, +which not being criminal, must be complied with, and even cheerfully, +by men of sense. Diogenes the cynic was a wise man for despising them; +but a fool for showing it. Be wiser than other people if you can; but +do not tell them so. + +It is a very fortunate thing for Sir Charles Hotham, to have fallen +into the hands of one of your age, experience, and knowledge of the +world: I am persuaded you will take infinite care of him. Goodnight. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A good enunciation_ + + +London, 21 _June_, O.S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY, + +Your very bad enunciation runs so much in my head, and gives me such +real concern, that it will be the object of this, and I believe of +many more letters. I congratulate both you and myself that I was +informed of it (as I hope) in time to prevent it; and shall ever think +myself, as hereafter you will, I am sure, think yourself, infinitely +obliged to Sir Charles Williams, for informing me of it. Good God! +if this ungraceful and disagreeable manner of speaking had, either +by your negligence or mine, become habitual to you, as in a couple of +years more it would have been, what a figure would you have made in +company, or in a public assembly! Who would have liked you in the one, +or have attended to you in the other? Read what Cicero and Quintilian +say of enunciation, and see what a stress they lay on the gracefulness +of it; nay, Cicero goes farther, and even maintains that a good figure +is necessary for an orator, and particularly that he must not be +_vastus_; that is, overgrown and clumsy. He shows by it that he +knew mankind well, and knew the powers of an agreeable figure and a +graceful manner. Men, as well as women, are much oftener led by their +hearts, than by their understandings. The way to the heart is through +the senses; please their eyes and their ears, and the work is half +done. I have frequently known a man's fortune decided for ever by his +first address. If it is pleasing, people are hurried involuntarily +into persuasion that he has a merit, which possibly he has not; as, on +the other hand, if it is ungraceful, they are immediately prejudiced +against him, and unwilling to allow him the merit which it may be +he has. Nor is this sentiment so unjust and unreasonable as at first +sight it may seem; for if a man has parts, he must know of what +infinite consequence it is to him to have a graceful manner of +speaking, and a genteel and pleasing address: he will cultivate and +improve them to the utmost. Your figure is a good one; you have no +natural defects in the organs of speech; your address may be engaging, +and your manner of speaking graceful, if you will; so that, if they +are not so, neither I nor the world can ascribe it to anything but +your want of parts. What is the constant and just observation as to +all the actors upon the stage? Is it not, that those who have the best +sense always speak the best, though they may not happen to have the +best voices? They will speak plainly, distinctly, and with the proper +emphasis, be their voices ever so bad. Had Roscius spoken quick, +thick, and ungracefully, I will answer for it, that Cicero would not +have thought him worth the oration which he made in his favour. Words +were given us to communicate our ideas by, and there must be something +inconceivably absurd in uttering them in such a manner, as that either +people cannot understand them, or will not desire to understand them. +I tell you truly and sincerely, that I shall judge of your parts by +your speaking gracefully or ungracefully. If you have parts, you will +never be at rest till you have brought yourself to a habit of speaking +most gracefully: for I aver, that it is in your power. You will desire +Mr. Harte, that you may read aloud to him every day, and that he will +interrupt and correct you every time that you read too fast, do not +observe the proper stops, or lay a wrong emphasis. You will take care +to open your teeth when you speak; to articulate very distinctly; and +to beg of Mr. Harte, Mr. Eliot, or whomever you speak to, to remind +and stop you, if ever you fall into the rapid and unintelligible +mutter. You will even read aloud to yourself, and tune your utterance +to your own ear, and read at first much slower than you need to do, +in order to correct yourself of that shameful trick of speaking faster +than you ought. In short, if you think right, you will make it your +business, your study, and your pleasure to speak well. Therefore, what +I have said in this and in my last, is more than sufficient, if you +have sense; and ten times more would not be sufficient if you have +not: so here I rest it. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Keeping accounts_ + + +London, 10 _Jan._ O.S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY, + +I have received your letter of the 31st December, N.S. Your thanks for +my present, as you call it, exceed the value of the present; but the +use which you assure me that you will make of it, is the thanks which +I desire to receive. Due attention to the inside of books, and due +contempt for the outside, is the proper relation between a man of +sense and his books. + +Now that you are going a little more into the world, I will take this +occasion to explain my intentions as to your future expenses, that +you may know what you have to expect from me, and make your plan +accordingly. I shall neither deny nor grudge you any money that may +be necessary for either your improvement or pleasures; I mean the +pleasures of a rational being. Under the head of improvement I mean +the best books, and the best masters, cost what they will; I also +mean all the expense of lodgings, coach, dress, servants, &c., +which, according to the several places where you may be, shall be +respectively necessary to enable you to keep the best company. Under +the head of rational pleasures I comprehend, first, proper charities +to real and compassionate objects of it; secondly, proper presents to +those to whom you are obliged, or whom you desire to oblige; thirdly, +a conformity of expense to that of the company which you keep; as in +public spectacles, your share of little entertainments, a few pistoles +at games of mere commerce, and other incidental calls of good company. +The only two articles which I will never supply are, the profusion of +low riot, and the idle lavishness of negligence and laziness. A fool +squanders away, without credit or advantage to himself, more than a +man of sense spends with both. The latter employs his money as he does +his time, and never spends a shilling of the one, nor a minute of the +other, but in something that is either useful or rationally pleasing +to himself or others. The former buys whatever he does not want, and +does not pay for what he does want. He cannot withstand the charms +of a toy-shop; snuff-boxes, watches, heads of canes, etc., are +his destruction. His servants and tradesmen conspire with his own +indolence to cheat him, and in a very little time he is astonished, in +the midst of all the ridiculous superfluities, to find himself in want +of all the real comforts and necessaries of life. Without care and +method the largest fortune will not, and with them almost the smallest +will, supply all necessary expenses. As far as you can possibly, pay +ready money for everything you buy, and avoid bills. Pay that money +too yourself, and not through the hands of any servant, who always +either stipulates poundage, or requires a present for his good word, +as they call it. Where you must have bills, (as for meat and drink, +clothes, etc.) pay them regularly every month, and with your own hand. +Never, from a mistaken economy, buy a thing you do not want, because +it is cheap; or from a silly pride, because it is dear. Keep an +account in a book, of all that you receive, and of all that you pay; +for no man, who knows what he receives and what he pays, ever runs +out. I do not mean that you should keep an account of the shillings +and half-crowns which you may spend in chair-hire, operas, etc. They +are unworthy of the time, and of the ink that they would consume; +leave such _minutiae_ to dull, penny-wise fellows; but remember in +economy, as well as in every other part of life, to have the proper +attention to proper objects, and the proper contempt for little ones. +A strong mind sees things in their true proportion; a weak one views +them through a magnifying medium, which, like the microscope, makes an +elephant of a flea; magnifies all little objects, but cannot receive +great ones. I have known many a man pass for a miser, by saving a +penny, and wrangling for two-pence, who was undoing himself at the +same time, by living above his income, and not attending to essential +articles, which were above his _portee_. The sure characteristic of a +sound and strong mind is, to find in everything those certain bounds, +_quos ultra citrave nequit consistere rectum_. These boundaries are +marked out by a very fine line, which only good sense and attention +can discover; it is much too fine for vulgar eyes. In manners, this +line is good-breeding; beyond it, is troublesome ceremony; short of +it, is unbecoming negligence and inattention. In morals, it divides +ostentatious puritanism from criminal relaxation; in religion, +superstition from impiety; and, in short, every virtue from its +kindred vice or weakness. I think you have sense enough to discover +the line; keep it always in your eye, and learn to walk upon it; rest +upon Mr. Harte, and he will poise you, till you are able to go alone. +By the way, there are fewer people who walk well upon that line, than +upon the slack-rope; and, therefore, a good performer shines so much +the more.... + +Remember to take the best dancing-master at Berlin, more to teach you +to sit, stand, and walk gracefully, than to dance finely. The graces, +the graces; remember the graces! Adieu. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A father's example_ + + +London, 7 _Feb_. o.s. 1749. + +DEAR BOY, + +You are now come to an age capable of reflection; and I hope you will +do, what however few people at your age do, exert it, for your own +sake, in the search of truth and sound knowledge. I will confess (for +I am not unwilling to discover my secrets to you) that it is not many +years since I have presumed to reflect for myself. Till sixteen or +seventeen I had no reflection, and for many years after that I made no +use of what I had. I adopted the notions of the books I read, or the +company I kept, without examining whether they were just or not; and I +rather chose to run the risk of easy error, than to take the time and +trouble of investigating truth. Thus, partly from laziness, partly +from dissipation, and partly from the _mauvaise honte_ of rejecting +fashionable notions, I was (as I since found) hurried away by +prejudices, instead of being guided by reason; and quietly cherished +error, instead of seeking for truth. But since I have taken the +trouble of reasoning for myself, and have had the courage to own that +I do so, you cannot imagine how much my notions of things are altered, +and in how different a light I now see them, from that in which I +formerly viewed them through the deceitful medium of prejudice or +authority. Nay, I may possibly still retain many errors, which, from +long habit, have perhaps grown into real opinions; for it is very +difficult to distinguish habits, early acquired and long entertained, +from the result of our reason and reflection. + +My first prejudice (for I do not mention the prejudices of boys and +women, such as hobgoblins, ghosts, dreams, spilling salt, &c.) was my +classical enthusiasm, which I received from the books I read, and the +masters who explained them to me. I was convinced there had been no +common sense nor common honesty in the world for these last fifteen +hundred years; but that they were totally extinguished with the +ancient Greek and Roman governments. Homer and Virgil could have no +faults, because they were ancient; Milton and Tasso could have no +merit, because they were modern. And I could almost have said, with +regard to the ancients, what Cicero, very absurdly and unbecomingly +for a philosopher, says with regard to Plato, _Cum quo errare malim +quam cum aliis recte sentire_. Whereas now, without any extraordinary +effort of genius, I have discovered that nature was the same three +thousand years ago as it is at present; that men were but men then as +well as now; that modes and customs vary often, but that human nature +is always the same. And I can no more suppose, that men were better, +braver, or wiser, fifteen hundred or three thousand years ago, than I +can suppose that the animals or vegetables were better then than +they are now. I dare assert too, in defiance of the favourers of the +ancients, that Homer's hero Achilles was both a brute and a scoundrel, +and consequently an improper character for the hero of an epic poem; +he had so little regard for his country, that he would not act in +defence of it, because he had quarrelled with Agamemnon about a--; and +then afterwards, animated by private resentment only, he went about +killing people basely, I will call it, because he knew himself +invulnerable; and yet, invulnerable as he was, he wore the strongest +armour in the world; which I humbly apprehend to be a blunder; for a +horseshoe clapped to his vulnerable heel would have been sufficient. +On the other hand, with submission to the favourers of the moderns, +I assert with Mr. Dryden, that the Devil is in truth the hero of +Milton's poem: his plan, which he lays, pursues, and at last executes, +being the subject of the poem. From all which considerations I +impartially conclude that the ancients had their excellencies and +their defects, their virtues and their vices, just like the moderns: +pedantry and affectation of learning clearly decide in favour of +the former; vanity and ignorance, as peremptorily, in favour of the +latter. Religious prejudices kept pace with my classical ones; and +there was a time when I thought it impossible for the honestest man in +the world to be saved, out of the pale of the Church of England: not +considering that matters of opinion do not depend upon the will; +and that it is as natural, and as allowable, that another man should +differ in opinion from me, as that I should differ from him; and that, +if we are both sincere, we are both blameless, and should consequently +have mutual indulgences for each other. + +The next prejudices I adopted were those of the _beau monde_, in +which, as I was determined to shine, I took what are commonly called +the genteel vices to be necessary. I had heard them reckoned so, and +without further inquiry, I believed it; or at least should have been +ashamed to have denied it, for fear of exposing myself to the ridicule +of those whom I considered as the models of fine gentlemen. But now I +am neither ashamed nor afraid to assert, that those genteel vices, as +they are falsely called, are only so many blemishes in the character +of even a man of the world, and what is called a fine gentleman, and +degrade him in the opinion of those very people, to whom he hopes to +recommend himself by them. Nay, this prejudice often extends so far, +that I have known people pretend to vices they had not, instead of +carefully concealing those they had. + +Use and assert your own reason; reflect, examine, and analyze +everything, in order to form a sound and mature judgement; let no +[Greek: outos epha] impose upon your understanding, mislead your +actions, or dictate your conversation. Be early what, if you are not, +you will when too late wish you had been. Consult your reason betimes: +I do not say, that it will always prove an unerring guide; for human +reason is not infallible; but it will prove the least erring guide +that you can follow. Books and conversation may assist it; but adopt +neither, blindly and implicitly: try both by that best rule which God +has given to direct us, reason. Of all the troubles, do not decline, +as many people do, that of thinking. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Public speaking_ + + +London, 9 _Dec_. o.s. 1749. + +DEAR BOY, + +It is now above forty years since I have never spoken nor written +one single word, without giving myself at least one moment's time to +consider, whether it was a good one or a bad one, and whether I could +not find out a better in its place. An unharmonious and rugged period, +at this time, shocks my ears; and I, like all the rest of the world, +will willingly exchange and give up some degree of rough sense, for +a good degree of pleasing sound. I will freely and truly own to you, +without either vanity or false modesty, that whatever reputation I +have acquired as a speaker, is more owing to my constant attention to +my diction than to my matter, which was necessarily just the same as +other people's. When you come into parliament, your reputation as a +speaker will depend much more upon your words, and your periods than +upon the subject. The same matter occurs equally to everybody of +common sense, upon the same question: the dressing it well, is what +excites the attention and admiration of the audience. + +It is in parliament that I have set my heart upon your making a +figure; it is there that I want to have you justly proud of yourself, +and to make me justly proud of you. This means that you must be a good +speaker there; I use the word _must_, because I know you may if you +will. The vulgar, who are always mistaken, look upon a speaker and a +comet with the same astonishment and admiration, taking them both for +preternatural phenomena. This error discourages many young men from +attempting that character; and good speakers are willing to have their +talent considered as something very extraordinary, if not a peculiar +gift of God to his elect. But, let you and I analyze and simplify this +good speaker; let us strip him of those adventitious plumes with which +his own pride and the ignorance of others have decked him; and we +shall find the true definition of him to be no more than this: a +man of good common sense, who reasons justly, and expresses himself +elegantly, on that subject upon which he speaks. There is, surely, no +witchcraft in this. A man of sense, without a superior and astonishing +degree of parts, will not talk nonsense upon any subject; nor will he, +if he has the least taste or application, talk inelegantly. What then +does all this mighty art and mystery of speaking in parliament amount +to? Why, no more than this, that the man who speaks in the House +of Commons, speaks in that house, and to four hundred people, that +opinion upon a given subject which he would make no difficulty of +speaking in any house in England, round the fire, or at table, to +any fourteen people whatsoever; better judges, perhaps, and severer +critics of what he says, than any fourteen gentlemen of the House of +Commons. + +I have spoken frequently in parliament, and not always without some +applause; and therefore I can assure you, from my experience, that +there is very little in it. The elegancy of the style and the turn of +the periods make the chief impression upon the hearers. Give them but +one or two round and harmonious periods in a speech, which they will +retain and repeat, and they will go home as well satisfied as people +do from an opera, humming all the way one or two favourite tunes that +have struck their ears, and were easily caught. Most people have ears, +but few have judgement; tickle those ears, and, depend upon it, you +will catch their judgements, such as they are. + +Cicero, conscious that he was at the top of his profession (for in +his time eloquence was a profession), in order to set himself off, +defines, in his treatise _de Oratore_, an orator to be such a man as +never was, or never will be; and, by this fallacious argument, says +that he must know every art and science whatsoever, or how shall he +speak upon them? But with submission to so great an authority, my +definition of an orator is extremely different from, and I believe +much truer than, his. I call that man an orator who reasons justly, +and expresses himself elegantly, upon whatever subjects he treats. +Problems in geometry, equations in algebra, processes in chemistry, +and experiments in anatomy, are never, that I have heard of, the +objects of eloquence; and therefore I humbly conceive that a man may +be a very fine speaker, and yet know nothing of geometry, algebra, +chemistry, or anatomy. The subjects of all parliamentary debates are +subjects of common sense singly. + +Thus I write whatever occurs to me, that I think may contribute either +to form or inform you. May my labour not be in vain! and it will not, +if you will but have half the concern for yourself that I have for +you. Adieu. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The new Earl of Chatham_ + + +Blackheath, 1 _Aug._ 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +The curtain was at last drawn up, the day before yesterday, and +discovered the new actors together with some of the old ones. I do not +name them to you, because to-morrow's Gazette will do it full as well +as I could. Mr. Pitt, who had _carte blanche_ given him, named every +one of them: but what would you think he named himself for? Lord Privy +Seal; and (what will astonish you, as it does every mortal here) Earl +of Chatham. The joke here is, that he has had _a fall upstairs_, and +has done himself so much hurt, that he will never be able to stand +upon his legs again. Everybody is puzzled how to account for this +step; though it would not be the first time that great abilities have +been duped by low cunning. But be it what it will, he is now certainly +only Earl of Chatham; and no longer Mr. Pitt, in any respect whatever. +Such an event, I believe, was never read nor heard of. To withdraw, +in the fullness of his power, and in the utmost gratification of his +ambition, from the House of Commons, (which procured him his power, +and which could alone ensure it to him) and to go into that hospital +of incurables, the House of Lords, is a measure so unaccountable, that +nothing but proof positive could have made me believe it: but true it +is. Hans Stanley is to go ambassador to Russia; and my nephew, Ellis, +to Spain, decorated with the red ribband. Lord Shelburne is your +secretary of state, which I suppose he has notified to you this post +by a circular letter. Charles Townshend has now the sole management of +the House of Commons; but how long he will be content to be only Lord +Chatham's viceregent there, is a question which I will not pretend +to decide. There is one very bad sign for Lord Chatham in his new +dignity; which is, that all his enemies, without exception, rejoice at +it; and all his friends are stupefied and dumb-founded. If I mistake +not much, he will in the course of a year enjoy perfect _otium cum +dignitate_. Enough of politics. + +Is the fair, or at least the fat Miss C---- with you still? It must +be confessed that she knows the art of courts, to be so received at +Dresden and so connived at in Leicester-fields. + +There never was so wet a summer as this has been, in the memory of +man; we have not had one single day, since March, without some rain; +but most days a great deal. I hope that does not affect your health, +as great cold does; for with all these inundations it has not been +cold. God bless you! + + + + +SAMUEL JOHNSON + +1709-1784 + + + +To BENNET LANGTON + +_Postponement of a visit_ + + +6 _May_, 1755. + +SIR, + +It has been long observed, that men do not suspect faults which +they do not commit; your own elegance of manners, and punctuality of +complaisance, did not suffer you to impute to me that negligence +of which I was guilty, and [for] which I have not since atoned. +I received both your letters, and received them with pleasure +proportioned to the esteem which so short an acquaintance strongly +impressed, and which I hope to confirm by nearer knowledge, though I +am afraid that gratification will be for a time withheld. + +I have, indeed, published my book, of which I beg to know your +father's judgment, and yours; and I have now stayed long enough to +watch its progress in the world. It has, you see, no patrons, and +I think has yet had no opponents, except the critics of the +coffee-house, whose outcries are soon dispersed into the air, and are +thought on no more. From this, therefore, I am at liberty, and think +of taking the opportunity of this interval to make an excursion, and +why not then into Lincolnshire? or, to mention a stronger attraction, +why not to dear Mr. Langton? I will give the true reason, which I know +you will approve:--I have a mother more than eighty years old, who has +counted the days to the publication of my book, in hopes of seeing me; +and to her, if I can disengage myself here, I resolve to go. + +As I know, dear sir, that to delay my visit for a reason like this +will not deprive me of your esteem, I beg it may not lessen your +kindness. I have very seldom received an offer of friendship which I +so earnestly desire to cultivate and mature. I shall rejoice to hear +from you, till I can see you, and will see you as soon as I can; for +when the duty that calls me to Lichfield is discharged, my inclination +will carry me to Langton. I shall delight to hear the ocean roar, or +see the stars twinkle, in the company of men to whom Nature does not +spread her volumes or utter her voice in vain. + +Do not, dear sir, make the slowness of this letter a precedent +for delay, or imagine that I approved the incivility that I have +committed; for I have known you enough to love you, and sincerely to +wish a further knowledge; and I assure you once more, that to live in +a house that contains such a father and such a son, will be accounted +a very uncommon degree of pleasure by, dear sir, your most obliged and +most humble servant. + + + +TO MISS PORTER + +_A mother's death_ + + +23 _Jan._ 1759. + +You will conceive my sorrow for the loss of my mother, of the best +mother. If she were to live again, surely I should behave better to +her. But she is happy, and what is past is nothing to her; and for me, +since I cannot repair my faults to her, I hope repentance will +efface them. I return you and all those that have been good to her +my sincerest thanks, and pray God to repay you all with infinite +advantage. Write to me and comfort me, dear child. I shall be glad +likewise, if Kitty will write to me. I shall send a bill of twenty +pounds in a few days, which I thought to have brought to my mother; +but God suffered it not. I have not power or composure to say much +more. God bless you, and bless us all. + + + +To JOSEPH BARETTI + +_A letter of counsel_ + + +21 _Dec._ 1762. + +SIR, + +You are not to suppose, with all your conviction of my idleness, that +I have passed all this time without writing to my Baretti. I gave +a letter to Mr. Beauclerk, who, in my opinion, and in his own, was +hastening to Naples for the recovery of his health; but he has stopped +at Paris, and I know not when he will proceed. Langton is with him. + +I will not trouble you with speculations about peace and war. The good +or ill success of battles and embassies extends itself to a very small +part of domestic life: we all have good and evil, which we feel more +sensibly than our petty part of public miscarriage or prosperity. I am +sorry for your disappointment, with which you seem more touched than +I should expect a man of your resolution and experience to have been, +did I not know that general truths are seldom applied to particular +occasions; so that the fallacy of our self-love extends itself as wide +as our interest and affections. Every man believes that mistresses are +unfaithful, and patrons capricious; but he excepts his own mistress +and his own patron. We have all learned that greatness is negligent +and contemptuous, and that in courts, life is often languished away in +ungratified expectation; but he that approaches greatness, or glitters +in a court, imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from the +common lot. + +Do not let such evils overwhelm you as thousands have suffered and +thousands have surmounted; but turn your thoughts with vigour to +some other plan of life, and keep always in your mind that, with due +submission to Providence, a man of genius has been seldom ruined but +by himself. Your patron's weakness or insensibility will finally do +you little hurt, if he is not assisted by your own passions. Of your +love I know not the propriety, nor can estimate the power; but in +love, as in every other passion, of which hope is the essence, we +ought always to remember the uncertainty of events. There is indeed +nothing that so much seduces reason from her vigilance, as the thought +of passing life with an amiable woman; and if all would happen that +a lover fancies, I know not what other terrestrial happiness would +deserve pursuit. But love and marriage are different states. Those who +are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for the sakes of +one another, soon lose that tenderness of look and that benevolence +of mind which arose from the participation of unmingled pleasure and +successive amusement. A woman we are sure will not be always fair, +we are not sure she will always be virtuous; and man cannot retain +through life that respect and assiduity by which he pleases for a day +or for a month. I do not however pretend to have discovered that life +has anything more to be desired than a prudent and virtuous marriage; +therefore know not what counsel to give you. + +If you can quit your imagination of love and greatness, and leave your +hopes of preferment and bridal raptures to try once more the fortune +of literature and industry, the way through France is now open. We +flatter ourselves that we shall cultivate with great diligence the +arts of peace; and every man will be welcome among us who can teach +us anything we do not know. For your part, you will find all your old +friends willing to receive you.... + + + +To MRS. THRALE + +_Travel in Scotland_ + + +Skye, 21 _Sept._ 1773. + +DEAREST MADAM, + +I am so vexed at the necessity of sending yesterday so short a letter, +that I purpose to get a long letter beforehand by writing something +every day, which I may the more easily do, as a cold makes me now too +deaf to take the usual pleasure in conversation. Lady Macleod is very +good to me, and the place at which we now are, is equal in strength of +situation, in the wildness of the adjacent country, and in the plenty +and elegance of the domestic entertainment, to a castle in Gothic +romances. The sea with a little island is before us; cascades play +within view. Close to the house is the formidable skeleton of an old +castle probably Danish, and the whole mass of building stands upon +a protuberance of rock, inaccessible till of late but by a pair of +stairs on the sea side, and secure in ancient times against any enemy +that was likely to invade the kingdom of Skye. + +Macleod has offered me an island; if it were not too far off I should +hardly refuse it: my island would be pleasanter than Brighthelmstone, +if you and my master could come to it; but I cannot think it pleasant +to live quite alone. + + Oblitusque meorum, obliviscendus et illis. + +That I should be elated by the dominion of an island to forgetfulness +of my friends at Streatham I cannot believe, and I hope never to +deserve that they should be willing to forget me. + +It has happened that I have been often recognised in my journey +where I did not expect it. At Aberdeen I found one of my acquaintance +professor of physic; turning aside to dine with a country gentleman, I +was owned at table by one who had seen me at a philosophical lecture; +at Macdonald's I was claimed by a naturalist, who wanders about the +islands to pick up curiosities; and I had once in London attracted the +notice of Lady Macleod. I will now go on with my account. + +The Highland girl made tea, and looked and talked not inelegantly; her +father was by no means an ignorant or a weak man; there were books in +the cottage, among which were some volumes of Prideaux's _Connection_: +this man's conversation we were glad of while we stayed. He had been +_out_, as they call it, in forty-five, and still retained his old +opinions. He was going to America, because his rent was raised beyond +what he thought himself able to pay. + +At night our beds were made, but we had some difficulty in persuading +ourselves to lie down in them, though we had put on our own sheets; +at last we ventured, and I slept very soundly in the vale of Glen +Morrison, amidst the rocks and mountains. Next morning our landlord +liked us so well, that he walked some miles with us for our company, +through a country so wild and barren that the proprietor does not, +with all his pressure upon his tenants, raise more than four hundred +pounds a year for near one hundred square miles or sixty thousand +acres. He let us know that he had forty head of black cattle, an +hundred goats, and an hundred sheep, upon a farm that he remembered +let at five pounds a year, but for which he now paid twenty. He told +us some stories of their march into England. At last he left us, +and we went forward, winding among mountains, sometimes green and +sometimes naked, commonly so steep as not easily to be climbed by +the greatest vigour and activity: our way was often crossed by little +rivulets, and we were entertained with small streams trickling from +the rocks, which after heavy rains must be tremendous torrents. + +About noon we came to a small glen, so they call a valley, which +compared with other places appeared rich and fertile; here our guides +desired us to stop, that the horses might graze, for the journey +was very laborious, and no more grass would be found. We made no +difficulty of compliance, and I sat down to take notes on a green +bank, with a small stream running at my feet, in the midst of savage +solitude, with mountains before me, and on either hand covered with +heath. I looked around me, and wondered that I was not more affected, +but the mind is not at all times equally ready to be put in motion; +if my mistress and master and Queeny had been there we should have +produced some reflections among us, either poetical or philosophical, +for though _solitude be the nurse of woe_, conversation is often the +parent of remarks and discoveries. + +In about an hour we remounted, and pursued our journey. The lake by +which we had travelled for some time ended in a river, which we passed +by a bridge, and came to another glen, with a collection of huts, +called Auknashealds; the huts were generally built of clods of earth, +held together by the intertexture of vegetable fibres, of which earth +there are great levels in Scotland which they call mosses. Moss in +Scotland is bog in Ireland, and moss-trooper is bog-trotter: there +was, however, one hut built of loose stones, piled up with great +thickness into a strong though not solid wall. From this house we +obtained some great pails of milk, and having brought bread with us, +were very liberally regaled. The inhabitants, a very coarse tribe, +ignorant of any language but Erse, gathered so fast about us, that if +we had not had Highlanders with us, they might have caused more alarm +than pleasure; they are called the Clan of Macrae. + +We had been told that nothing gratified the Highlanders so much as +snuff and tobacco, and had accordingly stored ourselves with both at +Fort Augustus. Boswell opened his treasure, and gave them each a piece +of tobacco roll. We had more bread than we could eat for the present, +and were more liberal than provident. Boswell cut it in slices, and +gave them an opportunity of tasting wheaten bread for the first time. +I then got some halfpence for a shilling, and made up the deficiencies +of Boswell's distribution, who had given some money among the +children. We then directed that the mistress of the stone house should +be asked what we must pay her: she, who perhaps had never before +sold anything but cattle, knew not, I believe, well what to ask, and +referred herself to us: we obliged her to make some demand, and one of +the Highlanders settled the account with her at a shilling. One of the +men advised her, with the cunning that clowns never can be without, to +ask more; but she said that a shilling was enough. We gave her half +a crown, and she offered part of it again. The Macraes were so well +pleased with our behaviour, that they declared it the best day they +had seen since the time of the old Laird of Macleod, who, I suppose, +like us, stopped in their valley, as he was travelling to Skye.... + +I cannot forbear to interrupt my narrative. Boswell, with some of his +troublesome kindness, has informed this family and reminded me that +the 18th of September is my birthday. The return of my birthday, if I +remember it, fills me with thoughts which it seems to be the general +care of humanity to escape. I can now look back upon three score +and four years, in which little has been done, and little has been +enjoyed; a life diversified by misery, spent part in the sluggishness +of penury, and part under the violence of pain, in gloomy discontent +or importunate distress. But perhaps I am better than I should have +been if I had been less afflicted. With this I will try to be content. + +In proportion as there is less pleasure in retrospective +considerations, the mind is more disposed to wander forward into +futurity; but at sixty-four what promises, however liberal, of +imaginary good can futurity venture to make? Yet something will be +always promised and some promises will always be credited. I am hoping +and I am praying that I may live better in the time to come, whether +long or short, than I have yet lived, and in the solace of that +hope endeavour to repose. Dear Queeny's day is next, I hope she at +sixty-four will have less to regret.... + +You will now expect that I should give you some account of the Isle of +Skye, of which, though I have been twelve days upon it, I have little +to say. It is an island perhaps fifty miles long, so much indented by +inlets of the sea that there is no part of it removed from the water +more than six miles. No part that I have seen is plain; you are always +climbing or descending, and every step is upon rock or mire. A walk +upon ploughed ground in England is a dance upon carpets compared to +the toilsome drudgery of wandering in Skye. There is neither town nor +village in the island, nor have I seen any house but Macleod's, that +is not much below your habitation at Brighthelmstone. In the mountains +there are stags and roebucks, but no hares, and few rabbits; nor have +I seen anything that interested me as a zoologist, except an otter, +bigger than I thought an otter could have been. + +You perhaps are imagining that I am withdrawn from the gay and +the busy world into regions of peace and pastoral felicity, and am +enjoying the relics of the golden age; that I am surveying nature's +magnificence from a mountain, or remarking her minuter beauties on the +flowery bank of a winding rivulet; that I am invigorating myself in +the sunshine, or delighting my imagination with being hidden from +the invasion of human evils and human passions in the darkness of a +thicket; that I am busy in gathering shells and pebbles on the shore, +or contemplative on a rock, from which I look upon the water, and +consider how many waves are rolling between me and Streatham. + +The use of travelling is to regulate imagination by reality, and +instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are. Here +are mountains which I should once have climbed, but to climb steps +is now very laborious, and to descend them dangerous; and I am now +content with knowing, that by scrambling up a rock, I shall only see +other rocks, and a wider circuit of barren desolation. Of streams, we +have here a sufficient number, but they murmur not upon pebbles, but +upon rocks. Of flowers, if Chloris herself were here, I could present +her only with the bloom of heath. Of lawns and thickets, he must read +that would know them, for here is little sun and no shade. On the sea +I look from my window, but am not much tempted to the shore; for since +I came to this island, almost every breath of air has been a storm, +and what is worse, a storm with all its severity, but without its +magnificence, for the sea is here so broken into channels that there +is not a sufficient volume of water either for lofty surges or a loud +roar.... + + + +TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + +_Patronage_ + + +7 _Feb_. 1775. + +MY LORD, + +I have been lately informed, by the proprietor of _The World_, that +two papers, in which my _Dictionary_ is recommended to the public, are +by your lordship. To be so distinguished is an honour, which, being +very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well how +to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. + +When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your lordship, I +was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your +address, and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself _le +vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre_;--that I might obtain that regard +for which I saw the world contending; but I found my attendance so +little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to +continue it. When I had once addressed your lordship in public, I +had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly +scholar can possess. I had done all I could; and no man is well +pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. + +Seven years, my lord, have now passed, since I waited in your outward +rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been +pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to +complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, +without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile +of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron +before. + +The shepherd in _Virgil_ grew at last acquainted with Love, and found +him a native of the rocks. + +Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man +struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached ground, +encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to +take of my labours, had it been early had been kind; but it has +been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am +solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I +hope it is no very cynical asperity, not to confess obligations, +where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public +should consider me as owing that to a patron, which Providence has +enabled me to do for myself. + +Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any +favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I shall +conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been long +wakened from that dream of hope in which I once boasted myself with so +much exultation. + +My Lord, + +Your Lordship's most humble, +most obedient servant. + + + +To JAMES BOSWELL + +_A silent friend_ + + +13 _July_, 1779. + +DEAR SIR, + +What can possibly have happened that keeps us two such strangers to +each other? I expected to have heard from you when you came home; I +expected afterwards. I went into the country and returned, and yet +there is no letter from Mr. Boswell. No ill, I hope, has happened; and +if ill should happen, why should it be concealed from him who loves +you? Is it a fit of humour, that has disposed you to try who can hold +out longest without writing? If it be, you have the victory. But I am +afraid of something bad; set me free from my suspicions. + +My thoughts are at present employed in guessing the reason of your +silence; you must not expect that I should tell you anything, if I had +anything to tell. Write, pray write to me, and let me know what is or +what has been the cause of this long interruption. + + + +To MRS. THRALE + +_A great man's fortitude_ + + +19 _June_, 1783. + +ON Monday the 16th, I sat for my picture and walked a considerable way +with little inconvenience. In the afternoon and evening I felt myself +light and easy, and began to plan schemes of life. Thus I went to bed, +and in a short time waked and sat up, as has been long my custom, +when I felt a confusion and indistinctness in my head, which lasted, +I suppose, about half a minute. I was alarmed, and prayed God, that +however he might afflict my body, he would spare my understanding. +This prayer, that I might try the integrity of my faculties, I made in +Latin verse. The lines were not very good, but I knew them not to be +very good: I made them easily, and concluded myself to be unimpaired +in my faculties. + +Soon after I perceived that I had suffered a paralytic stroke, +and that my speech was taken from me. I had no pain, and so little +dejection in this dreadful state, that I wondered at my own apathy, +and considered that perhaps death itself, when it should come, would +excite less horror than seems now to attend it. + +In order to rouse the vocal organs, I took two drams. Wine has been +celebrated for the production of eloquence. I put myself into violent +motion, and I think repeated it; but all was vain. I then went to bed, +and strange as it may seem, I slept. When I saw light, it was time to +contrive what I should do. Though God stopped my speech, he left me +my hands; I enjoyed a mercy which was not granted to my dear friend +Lawrence, who now perhaps overlooks me as I am writing, and rejoices +that I have what he wanted. My first note was necessarily to my +servant, who came in talking, and could not immediately comprehend why +he should read what I put into his hands. I then wrote a card to Mr. +Allen, that I might have a discreet friend at hand, to act as occasion +should require. In penning this note I had some difficulty; my hand, +I knew not how nor why, made wrong letters. I then wrote to Dr. Taylor +to come to me, and bring Dr. Heberden: and I sent to Dr. Brocklesby, +who is my neighbour. My physicians are very friendly, and give me +great hopes; but you may imagine my situation. I have so far recovered +my vocal powers, as to repeat the Lord's Prayer with no very imperfect +articulation. My memory, I hope, yet remains as it was! but such an +attack produces solicitude for the safety of every faculty. + + + + +LAURENCE STERNE + +1713-1768 + + + +To Miss LUMLEY + +_The disconsolate lover_ + + +[1740-1] + +You bid me tell you, my dear L., how I bore your departure for S----, +and whether the valley, where D'Estella stands, retains still its +looks, or if I think the roses or jessamines smell as sweet as when +you left it. Alas! everything has now lost its relish and look! The +hour you left D'Estella I took to my bed. I was worn out with fevers +of all kinds, but most by that fever of the heart with which thou +knowest well I have been wasting these two years--and shall continue +wasting till you quit S----. The good Miss S----, from the forebodings +of the best of hearts, thinking I was ill, insisted upon my going to +her. What can be the cause, my dear L., that I never have been able to +see the face of this mutual friend, but I feel myself rent to pieces? +She made me stay an hour with her, and in that short space I burst +into tears a dozen different times, and in such affectionate gusts of +passion, that she was constrained to leave the room, and sympathize +in her dressing-room. I have been weeping for you both, said she, in +a tone of the sweetest pity--for poor L.'s heart, I have long known +it--her anguish is as sharp as yours--her heart as tender--her +constancy as great--her virtues as heroic--Heaven brought you not +together to be tormented. I could only answer her with a kind look, +and a heavy sigh, and returned home to your lodgings (which I have +hired till your return) to resign myself to misery. Fanny had prepared +me a supper--she is all attention to me--but I sat over it with tears; +a bitter sauce, my L., but I could eat it with no other; for the +moment she began to spread my little table, my heart fainted within +me. One solitary plate, one knife, one fork, one glass! I gave a +thousand pensive, penetrating looks at the chair thou hadst so often +graced, in those quiet and sentimental repasts, then laid down my +knife and fork, and took out my handkerchief, and clapped it across +my face, and wept like a child. I could do so this very moment, my L.; +for, as I take up my pen, my poor pulse quickens, my pale face glows, +and tears are trickling down upon the paper, as I trace the word +L----. O thou! blessed in thyself, and in thy virtues, blessed to all +that know thee--to me most so, because more do I know of thee than all +thy sex. This is the philtre, my L., by which thou hast charmed me, +and by which thou wilt hold me thine, while virtue and faith hold this +world together. This, my friend, is the plain and simple magic, by +which I told Miss ---- I have won a place in that heart of thine, on +which I depend so satisfied, that time, or distance, or change of +everything which might alarm the hearts of little men, create no +uneasy suspense in mine. Wast thou to stay in S---- these seven +years, thy friend, though he would grieve, scorns to doubt, or to be +doubted--'tis the only exception where security is not the parent of +danger. + +I told you poor Fanny was all attention to me since your +departure--contrives every day bringing in the name of L. She told +me last night (upon giving me some hartshorn), she had observed my +illness began the very day of your departure for S----; that I had +never held up my head, had seldom, or scarce ever, smiled, had fled +from all society; that she verily believed I was broken-hearted, for +she had never entered the room, or passed by the door, but she heard +me sigh heavily; that I neither eat, or slept, or took pleasure in +anything as before. Judge then, my L., can the valley look so well, +or the roses and jessamines smell so sweet as heretofore? Ah me! but +adieu--the vesper bell calls me from thee to my GOD. + + + +To DAVID GARRICK + +_Le chevalier Shandy_ + + +Paris, 19 _March_, 1762. + + +DEAR GARRICK, + +This will be put into your hands by Dr. Shippen, a physician, who has +been here some time with Miss Poyntz, and is at this moment setting +out for your metropolis; so I snatch the opportunity of writing to you +and my kind friend Mrs. Garrick. I see nothing like her here, and yet +I have been introduced to one half of their best Goddesses, and in a +month more shall be admitted to the shrines of the other half; but I +neither worship or fall (much) on my knees before them; but, on the +contrary, have converted many unto Shandeism; for be it known, I +Shandy it away fifty times more than I was ever wont, talk more +nonsense than ever you heard me talk in your days--and to all sorts +of people. _Qui le diable est cet homme-la_--said Choiseul t'other +day--_ce chevalier Shandy_? You'll think me as vain as a devil, was I +to tell you the rest of the dialogue; whether the bearer knows it or +no, I know not. 'Twill serve up after supper, in Southampton-street, +amongst other small dishes, after the fatigues of Richard III. O God! +they have nothing here, which gives the nerves so smart a blow, as +those great characters in the hands of Garrick! but I forgot I +am writing to the man himself. The devil take (as he will) these +transports of enthusiasm! Apropos, the whole city of Paris is +_bewitched_ with the comic opera, and if it was not for the affair +of the Jesuits, which takes up one half of our talk, the comic opera +would have it all. It is a tragical nuisance in all companies as it +is, and was it not for some sudden starts and dashes of Shandeism, +which now and then either break the thread, or entangle it so, that +the devil himself would be puzzled in winding it off, I should die a +martyr--this by the way I never will. + +I send you over some of these comic operas by the bearer, with the +_Sallon_, a satire. The French comedy, I seldom visit it--they act +scarce in anything but tragedies--and the Clairon is great, and Mile. +Dumesnil, in some places, still greater than her; yet I cannot bear +preaching--I fancy I got a surfeit of it in my younger days. There +is a tragedy to be damned to-night--peace be with it, and the gentle +brain which made it! I have ten thousand things to tell you I cannot +write, I do a thousand things which cut no figure, _but in the +doing_--and as in London, I have the honour of having done and said a +thousand things I never did or dreamed of--and yet I dream abundantly. +If the devil stood behind me in the shape of a courier, I could not +write faster than I do, having five letters more to dispatch by the +same gentleman; he is going into another section of the globe, and +when he has seen you, will depart in peace. + +The Duke of Orleans has suffered my portrait to be added to the number +of some odd men in his collection; and a gentleman who lives with him +has taken it most expressively, at full length: I purpose to obtain an +etching of it, and to send it you. Your prayer for me of _rosy health_ +is heard. If I stay here for three or four months, I shall return more +than reinstated. My love to Mrs. Garrick. + + + +To MR. FOLEY AT PARIS + +_An adventure on the road_ + + +Toulouse, 14 _Aug_. 1762. + +MY DEAR FOLEY, + +After many turnings (_alias_ digressions), to say nothing of downright +overthrows, stops, and delays, we have arrived in three weeks at +Toulouse, and are now settled in our houses with servants, &c., about +us, and look as composed as if we had been here seven years. In +our journey we suffered so much from the heats, it gives me pain to +remember it; I never saw a cloud from Paris to Nismes half as broad as +a twenty-four sols piece. Good God! we were toasted, roasted, grilled, +stewed and carbonaded on one side or other all the way; and being all +done enough (_assez cuits_) in the day, we were eat up at night by +bugs, and other unswept-out vermin, the legal inhabitants (if length +of possession gives right) of every inn we lay at. Can you conceive +a worse accident than that in such a journey, in the hottest day and +hour of it, four miles from either tree or shrub which could cast a +shade of the size of one of Eve's fig leaves, that we should break a +hind wheel into ten thousand pieces, and be obliged in consequence +to sit five hours on a gravelly road, without one drop of water, or +possibility of getting any? To mend the matter, my two postillions +were two dough-hearted fools, and fell a-crying. Nothing was to be +done! By heaven, quoth I, pulling off my coat and waistcoat, something +shall be done, for I'll thrash you both within an inch of your lives, +and then make you take each of you a horse, and ride like two devils +to the next post for a cart to carry my baggage, and a wheel to +carry ourselves. Our luggage weighed ten quintals. It was the fair +of Baucaire, all the world was going, or returning; we were asked by +every soul who passed by us, if we were going to the fair of Baucaire. +No wonder, quoth I, we have goods enough! _vous avez raison, mes +amis_.... + + + + +THOMAS GRAY + +1716-1771 + +To RICHARD WEST + +_Scenery at Tivoli_ + + +Tivoli, 20 _May_, 1740. + +This day being in the palace of his Highness the Duke of Modena, he +laid his most serene commands upon me to write to Mr. West, and said +he thought it for his glory, that I should draw up an inventory of all +his most serene possessions for the said West's perusal. Imprimis, +a house, being in circumference a quarter of a mile, two feet and an +inch; the said house containing the following particulars, to wit, +a great room. Item, another great room; item, a bigger room; item, +another room; item, a vast room; item, a sixth of the same; a seventh +ditto; an eighth as before; a ninth as above said; a tenth (see No. +1); item, ten more such, besides twenty besides, which, not to be too +particular, we shall pass over. The said rooms contain nine chairs, +two tables, five stools and a cricket. From whence we shall proceed +to the garden, containing two millions of superfine laurel hedges, +a clump of cypress trees, and half the river Teverone.--Finis. Dame +Nature desired me to put in a list of her little goods and chattels, +and, as they were small, to be very minute about them. She has built +here three or four little mountains, and laid them out in an irregular +semi-circle; from certain others behind, at a greater distance, she +has drawn a canal, into which she has put a little river of hers, +called Anio; she has cut a huge cleft between the two innermost of her +four hills, and there she has left it to its own disposal; which she +has no sooner done, but, like a heedless chit, it tumbles headlong +down a declivity fifty feet perpendicular, breaks itself all to +shatters, and is converted into a shower of rain, where the sun forms +many a bow, red, green, blue, and yellow. To get out of our metaphors +without any further trouble, it is the most noble sight in the world. +The weight of that quantity of waters, and the force they fall with, +have worn the rocks they throw themselves among into a thousand +irregular craggs, and to a vast depth. In this channel it goes boiling +along with a mighty noise till it comes to another steep, where you +see it a second time come roaring down (but first you must walk +two miles farther) a greater height than before, but not with that +quantity of waters; for by this time it has divided itself, being +crossed and opposed by the rocks, into four several streams, each of +which, in emulation of the great one, will tumble down too; and it +does tumble down, but not from an equally elevated place; so that you +have at one view all these cascades intermixed with groves of olive +and little woods, the mountains rising behind them, and on the top of +one (that which forms the extremity of one of the half-circle's horns) +is seated the town itself. At the very extremity of that extremity, on +the brink of the precipice, stands the Sybil's temple, the remains +of a little rotunda, surrounded with its portico, above half of whose +beautiful Corinthian pillars are still standing and entire; all this +on one hand. On the other, the open Campagna of Rome, here and there +a little castle on a hillock, and the city itself at the very brink of +the horizon, indistinctly seen (being eighteen miles off) except the +dome of St. Peter's; which, if you look out of your window, wherever +you are, I suppose, you can see. I did not tell you that a little +below the first fall, on the side of the rock, and hanging over that +torrent, are little ruins which they show you for Horace's house, a +curious situation to observe the + + Praeceps Anio et Tiburni lucus, et uda + Mobilibus pomaria rivis. + +Maecenas did not care for such a noise, it seems, and built him a +house (which they also carry one to see) so situated that it sees +nothing at all of the matter, and for anything he knew there might be +no such river in the world. Horace had another house on the other side +of the Teverone, opposite to Maecenas's; and they told us there was +a bridge of communication, by which _andava il detto Signor per +trastullarsi coll' istesso Orazio_. In coming hither we crossed the +Aquae Albulae, a vile little brook that stinks like a fury, and they +say it has stunk so these thousand years. I forgot the Piscina of +Quintilius Varus, where he used to keep certain little fishes. This +is very entire, and there is a piece of the aqueduct that supplied it +too; in the garden below is old Rome, built in little, just as it was, +they say. There are seven temples in it, and no houses at all; they +say there were none. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A poet's melancholy_ + + +London, 27 _May_, 1742. + +Mine, you are to know is a white Melancholy, or rather Leucocholy +for the most part; which, though it seldom laughs or dances, nor ever +amounts to what one called Joy or Pleasure, yet is a good easy sort +of a state, and _ca ne laisse que de s'amuser._ The only fault is its +insipidity; which is apt now and then to give a sort of Ennui, which +makes one form certain little wishes that signify nothing. But there +is another sort, black indeed, which I have now and then felt, that +has somewhat in it like Tertullian's rule of faith, _Credo quia +impossibile est_; for it believes, nay, is sure of everything that is +unlikely, so it be but frightful; and on the other hand excludes and +shuts its eyes to the most possible hopes, and everything that is +pleasurable; from this the Lord deliver us! for none but he and +sunshiny weather can do it. In hopes of enjoying this kind of weather +I am going into the country for a few weeks, but shall be never the +nearer any society; so, if you have any charity, you will continue to +write. My life is like Harry the Fourth's supper of Hens, 'Poulets a +la broche, Poulets en Ragout, Poulets en Hachis, Poulets en Fricassees +'. Reading here, Reading there; nothing but books with different +sauces. Do not let me lose my desert then; for though that be Reading +too, yet it has a very different flavour. The May seems to be come +since your invitation; and I propose to bask in her beams and dress me +in her roses. + + Et caput in verna semper habere rosa. + +I shall see Mr. ---- and his Wife, nay, and his Child, too, for he has +got a Boy. Is it not odd to consider one's Cotemporaries in the grave +light of Husband and Father? There is my lords Sandwich and Halifax, +they are Statesmen: Do not you remember them dirty boys playing at +cricket? As for me, I am never a bit the older, nor the bigger, nor +the wiser than I was then: no, not for having been beyond sea. Pray, +how are you?... + + + +To HORACE WALPOLE + +_The fate of Selima_ + + +Cambridge, 1 _March_, 1747. + +As one ought to be particularly careful to avoid blunders in a +compliment of condolence, it would be a sensible satisfaction to +me (before I testify my sorrow, and the sincere part I take in your +misfortune) to know for certain, who it is that I lament. I knew Zara +and Selima (Selima, was it? or Fatima?) or rather I knew both of them +together; for I cannot justly say which was which. Then as to your +handsome Cat, the name you distinguished her by, I am no less at a +loss, as well knowing one's handsome cat is always the cat one likes +best; or if one be alive and the other dead, it is usually the latter +that is the handsomest. Besides, if the point were never so clear, I +hope you do not think me so ill-bred or so imprudent as to forfeit all +my interest in the survivor; Oh no! I would rather seem to mistake, +and to be sure it must be the tabby one that had met with this sad +accident. Till this affair is a little better determined, you will +excuse me if I do not begin to cry: + + Tempus inane peto, requiem, spatiumque doloris. + +Which interval is the more convenient, as it gives time to rejoice +with you on your new honours. This is only a beginning; I reckon next +week we shall hear you are a free-Mason, or a Gormorgon at least. +Heigh ho! I feel (as you to be sure have done long since) that I have +very little to say, at least in prose. Somebody will be the better for +it; I do not mean you, but your Cat, feue Mademoiselle Selime, whom I +am about to immortalize for one week or fortnight, as follows. + +... There's a poem for you, it is rather too long for an Epitaph. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Publication of the Elegy_ + + +Cambridge, 11 _Feb_. 1751. + +As you have brought me into a little sort of distress, you must assist +me, I believe, to get out of it as well as I can. Yesterday I had +the misfortune of receiving a letter from certain gentlemen (as their +bookseller expresses it), who have taken the _Magazine of Magazines_ +into their hands. They tell me that an _ingenious_ poem, called +_Reflections in a Country Churchyard_, has been communicated to them, +which they are printing forthwith; that they are informed that the +_excellent_ author of it is I by name, and that they beg not only his +_indulgence_, but the _honour_ of his correspondence, &c. As I am not +at all disposed to be either so indulgent, or so correspondent, as +they desire, I have but one bad way left to escape the honour they +would inflict upon me; and, therefore, am obliged to desire you would +make Dodsley print it immediately (which may be done in less than a +week's time) from your copy, but without my name, in what form is +most convenient for him, but on his best paper and character; he must +correct the press himself, and print it without any interval between +the stanzas, because the sense is in some places continued +beyond them; and the title must be,--_Elegy, written in a Country +Churchyard_. If he would add a line or two to say it came into +his hands by accident, I should like it better. If you behold the +_Magazine of Magazines_ in the light that I do, you will not refuse to +give yourself this trouble on my account, which you have taken of your +own accord before now. If Dodsley do not do this immediately, he may +as well let it alone. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_At Burnham_ + + +[Burnham,] _Sept_. 1737. + +I was hindered in my last, and so could not give you all the trouble +I would have done. The description of a road, which your coach wheels +have so often honoured, it would be needless to give you; suffice +it that I arrived safe at my uncle's, who is a great hunter in +imagination; his dogs take up every chair in the house, so I am forced +to stand at this present writing; and though the gout forbids him +galloping after them in the field, yet he continues to regale his ears +and nose with their comfortable noise and stink. He holds me mighty +cheap, I perceive, for walking when I should ride, and reading when +I should hunt. My comfort amidst all this is, that I have at the +distance of half a mile, through a green lane, a forest (the vulgar +call it a common) all my own, at least as good as so, for I spy no +human thing in it but myself. It is a little chaos of mountains and +precipices; mountains, it is true, that do not ascend much above the +clouds, nor are the declivities quite so amazing as Dover Cliff; but +just such hills as people who love their necks as well as I do may +venture to climb, and crags that give the eye as much pleasure as if +they were more dangerous. Both vale and hill are covered with most +venerable beeches, and other very reverend vegetables, that, like most +other ancient people, are always dreaming out their old stories to the +winds. + + _And as they bow their hoary tops relate, + In murm'ring sounds, the dark decrees of fate; + While visions, as poetic eyes avow, + Cling to each leaf, and swarm on every bough._ + +At the foot of one of these squats ME I (_ilpenseroso_), and there +grow to the trunk for a whole morning. The timorous hare and sportive +squirrel gambol round me like Adam in Paradise, before he had an Eve; +but I think he did not use to read Virgil, as I commonly do there. +In this situation I often converse with my Horace, aloud too, that is +talk to you, but I do not remember that I ever heard you answer me. +I beg pardon for taking all the conversation to myself, but it is +entirely your own fault.... + + + +To THE REV. WILLIAM MASON + +_The Laureateship_ + + +19 _Dec_. 1757. + +DEAR MASON, + +Though I very well know the bland emollient saponaceous qualities both +of sack and silver, yet if any great man would say to me, 'I make you +Rat-catcher to his Majesty, with a salary of L300 a-year and two butts +of the best Malaga; and though it has been usual to catch a mouse or +two, for form's sake, in public once a year, yet to you, sir, we shall +not stand on these things,' I cannot say I should jump at it; nay, if +they would drop the very name of the office, and call me Sinecure +to the King's Majesty, I should feel a little awkward, and think +everybody I saw smelt a rat about me; but I do not pretend to blame +any one else that has not the same sensations; for my part, I would +rather be serjeant trumpeter or pinmaker to the palace. Nevertheless +I interest myself a little in the history of it, and rather wish +somebody may accept it who will retrieve the credit of the thing, if +it be retrieveable, or ever had any credit. Rowe was, I think, the +last man of character that had it. As to Settle, whom you mention, +he belonged to my lord mayor, not to the King. Eusden was a person +of great hopes in his youth, though at last he turned out a drunken +person. Dryden was as disgraceful to the office from his character, +as the poorest scribbler could have been from his verses. The office +itself has always humbled the professor hitherto (even in an age when +kings were somebody), if he were a poor writer by making him more +conspicuous, and if he were a good one by setting him at war with the +little fry of his own profession, for there are poets little enough to +envy even a poet laureate. + + + +To DR. WHARTON + +_A holiday in Kent_ + + +Pembroke College, 26 _Aug_. 1766. + +DEAR DOCTOR, + +Whatever my pen may do, I am sure my thoughts expatiate nowhere +oftener, or with more pleasure, than to Old Park. I hope you have made +my peace with Miss Deborah. It is certain, whether her name were in +my letter or not, she was as present to my memory as the rest of the +little family; and I desire you would present her with two kisses +in my name, and one a piece to all the others; for I shall take the +liberty to kiss them all (great and small) as you are to be my proxy. + +In spite of the rain, which I think continued with very short +intervals till the beginning of this month, and quite effaced the +summer from the year, I made a shift to pass May and June, not +disagreeably, in Kent. I was surprised at the beauty of the road +to Canterbury, which (I know not why) had not struck me in the same +manner before. The whole country is a rich and well cultivated garden; +orchards, cherry grounds, hop grounds, intermixed with corn and +frequent villages, gentle risings covered with wood, and everywhere +the Thames and Medway breaking in upon the landscape, with all their +navigation. It was indeed owing to the bad weather that the whole +scene was dressed in that tender emerald green, which one usually sees +only for a fortnight in the opening of Spring; and this continued till +I left the country. My residence was eight miles east of Canterbury, +in a little quiet valley on the skirts of Barham Down; in these parts +the whole soil is chalk, and whenever it holds up, in half an hour +it is dry enough to walk out. I took the opportunity of three or four +days fine weather to go into the Isle of Thanet, saw Margate (which +is Bartholomew Fair by the seaside), Ramsgate, and other places there; +and so came by Sandwich, Deal, Dover, Folkestone, and Hythe, back +again. The coast is not like Hartlepool, there are no rocks, but +only chalky cliffs, of no great height, till you come to Dover. There +indeed they are noble and picturesque, and the opposite coasts of +France begin to bound your view, which was left before to range +unlimited by anything but the horizon; yet it is by no means a +_shipless_ sea, but everywhere peopled with white sails and vessels of +all sizes in motion; and take notice (except in the Isle, which is all +corn fields, and has very little enclosure), there are in all places +hedgerows and tall trees, even within a few yards of the beach, +particularly Hythe stands on an eminence covered with wood. I shall +confess we had fires of a night (aye and a day too) several times even +in June: but don't go too far and take advantage of this, for it was +the most untoward year that ever I remember. + +Your friend Rousseau (I doubt) grows tired of Mr. Davenport and +Derbyshire; he has picked a quarrel with David Hume, and writes +him letters of fourteen pages folio, upbraiding him with all his +_noirceurs_; take one only as a specimen. He says, that at Calais +they chanced to sleep in the same room together, and that he overheard +David talking in his sleep, and saying, '_Ah! je le tiens, ce +Jean-Jacques la_.' In short (I fear), for want of persecution and +admiration (for these are his real complaints), he will go back to the +Continent. + +What shall I say to you about the ministry? I am as angry as a +common council man of London about my Lord Chatham; but a little more +patient, and will hold my tongue till the end of the year. In the +meantime I do mutter in secret, and to you, that to quit the House of +Commons, his natural strength, to sap his own popularity and grandeur +(which no one but himself could have done) by assuming a foolish +title; and to hope that he could win by it, and attach to him a court +that hate him, and will dismiss him as soon as ever they dare, was the +weakest thing that ever was done by so great a man. Had it not been +for this, I should have rejoiced at the breach between him and Lord +Temple, and at the union between him and the Duke of Grafton and +Mr. Conway: but patience! we shall see! Stonehewer perhaps is in the +country (for he hoped for a month's leave of absence), and if you see +him you will learn more than I can tell you. + + + + +HORACE WALPOLE + +1717-1797 + + + +To RICHARD WEST + +_Floods in the Arno_ + + +From Florence, _Nov_. 1740. + +Child, I am going to let you see your shocking proceedings with us. On +my conscience, I believe 'tis three months since you wrote to either +Gray or me. If you had been ill, Ashton would have said so; and if +you had been dead, the gazettes would have said it. If you had been +angry,--but that's impossible; how can one quarrel with folks three +thousand miles off? We are neither divines nor commentators, and +consequently have not hated you on paper. 'Tis to show that my charity +for you cannot be interrupted at this distance that I write to you, +though I have nothing to say, for 'tis a bad time for small news; and +when emperors and czarinas are dying all up and down Europe, one can't +pretend to tell you of anything that happens within our sphere. Not +but that we have our accidents too. If you have had a great wind in +England, we have had a great water at Florence. We have been trying +to set out every day, and pop upon you[1] ... It is fortunate that +we stayed, for I don't know what had become of us! Yesterday, with +violent rains, there came flouncing down from the mountains such a +flood that it floated the whole city. The jewellers on the Old Bridge +removed their commodities, and in two hours after the bridge was +cracked. The torrent broke down the quays and drowned several +coach-horses, which are kept here in stables under ground. We were +moated into our house all day, which is near the Arno, and had the +miserable spectacles of the ruins that were washed along with the +hurricane. There was a cart with two oxen not quite dead, and four men +in it drowned: but what was ridiculous, there came tiding along a +fat hay-cock, with a hen and her eggs, and a cat. The torrent is +considerably abated; but we expect terrible news from the country, +especially from Pisa, which stands so much lower, and nearer the +sea. There is a stone here, which, when the water overflows, Pisa is +entirely flooded. The water rose two ells yesterday above that stone. +Judge! + +For this last month we have passed our time but dully, all diversions +silenced on the Emperor's death, and everybody out of town. I have +seen nothing but cards and dull pairs of cicisbeos. I have literally +seen so much of love and pharaoh since being here, that I believe I +shall never love either again so long as I live. Then I am got into +a horrid lazy way of a morning. I don't believe I should know seven +o'clock in the morning again if I was to see it. But I am returning to +England, and shall grow very solemn and wise! Are you wise? Dear West, +have pity on one who has done nothing of gravity for these two years, +and do laugh sometimes. We do nothing else, and have contracted such +formidable ideas of the good people of England that we are already +nourishing great black eyebrows and great black beards, and teasing +our countenances into wrinkles. + +[Footnote 1: MS. torn here.] + + + +To RICHARD BENTLEY + +_Pictures and Garrick_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 15 _Aug_. 1755. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +Though I wrote to you so lately, and have certainly nothing new to +tell you, I can't help scribbling a line to you to-night, as I am +going to Mr. Rigby's for a week or ten days, and must thank you first +for the three pictures. One of them charms me, the Mount Orgueil, +which is absolutely fine; the sea, and shadow upon it, are masterly. +The other two I don't, at least won't, take for finished. If you +please, Elizabeth Castle shall be Mr. Muentz's performance: indeed I +see nothing of you in it. I do reconnoitre you in the Hercules and +Nessus; but in both, your colours are dirty, carelessly dirty: in +your distant hills you are improved, and not hard. The figures are too +large--I don't mean in the Elizabeth Castle, for there they are neat; +but the centaur, though he dies as well as Garrick can, is outrageous. +Hercules and Deianira are by no means so: he is sentimental, and she +most improperly sorrowful. However, I am pleased enough to beg you +would continue. As soon as Mr. Muentz returns from the Vine, you shall +have a good supply of colours. In the meantime why give up the good +old trade of drawing? Have you no Indian ink, no soot-water, no snuff, +no coat of onion, no juice of anything? If you love me, draw: you +would if you knew the real pleasure you can give me. I have been +studying all your drawings; and next to architecture and trees, I +determine that you succeed in nothing better than animals. Now (as +the newspapers say) the late ingenious Mr. Seymour is dead, I would +recommend horses and greyhounds to you. I should think you capable of +a landscape or two with delicious bits of architecture. I have known +you execute the light of a torch or lanthorn so well, that if it +was called Schalken, a housekeeper at Hampton Court or Windsor, or +a Catherine at Strawberry Hill, would show it, and say it cost ten +thousand pounds. Nay, if I could believe that you would ever execute +any more designs I proposed to you, I would give you a hint for a +picture that struck me t'other day in Perefixe's _Life of Henry IV_. +He says, the king was often seen lying upon a common straw-bed among +the soldiers, with a piece of brown bread in one hand, and a bit +of charcoal in t'other, to draw an encampment, or town that he was +besieging. If this is not character and a picture, I don't know what +is. + +I dined to-day at Garrick's: there were the Duke of Grafton, Lord and +Lady Rochford, Lady Holderness, the crooked Mostyn, and Dabreu the +Spanish minister; two regents, of which one is lord chamberlain, the +other groom of the stole; and the wife of a secretary of state. This +is being _sur un assez bon ton_ for a player! Don't you want to ask me +how I like him? Do want, and I will tell you.--I like her exceedingly; +her behaviour is all sense, and all sweetness too. I don't know how, +he does not improve so fast upon me: there is a great deal of parts, +and vivacity, and variety, but there is a great deal too of mimicry +and burlesque. I am very ungrateful, for he flatters me abundantly; +but unluckily I know it. I was accustomed to it enough when my father +was first minister: on his fall I lost it all at once: and since that, +I have lived with Mr. Chute, who is all vehemence; with Mr. Fox, who +is all disputation; with Sir Charles Williams, who has no time from +flattering himself; with Gray, who does not hate to find fault with +me; with Mr. Conway, who is all sincerity; and with you and Mr. Rigby, +who have always laughed at me in a good-natured way. I don't know how, +but I think I like all this as well--I beg his pardon, Mr. Raftor does +flatter me; but I should be a cormorant for praise, if I could swallow +it whole as he gives it me. + +Sir William Yonge, who has been extinct so long, is at last dead; and +the war, which began with such a flirt of vivacity, is I think gone to +sleep. General Braddock has not yet sent over to claim the surname of +Americanus. But why should I take pains to show you in how many ways I +know nothing?--Why; I can tell it you in one word--why, Mr. Cambridge +knows nothing!--I wish you good-night! + + + +To GEORGE, LORD LYTTELTON + +_Gray's Odes_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 25 _Aug_. 1757. + +MY LORD, + +It is a satisfaction one can't often receive, to show a thing of +great merit to a man of great taste. Your Lordship's approbation is +conclusive, and it stamps a disgrace on the age, who have not given +themselves the trouble to see any beauties in these _Odes_ of Mr. +Gray. They have cast their eyes over them, found them obscure, and +looked no further, yet perhaps no compositions ever had more sublime +beauties than are in each. I agree with your Lordship in preferring +the last upon the whole; the three first stanzas and half, down to +_agonizing King_, are in my opinion equal to anything in any language +I understand. Yet the three last of the first Ode please me very near +as much. The description of Shakespeare is worthy Shakespeare: the +account of Milton's blindness, though perhaps not strictly defensible, +is very majestic. The character of Dryden's poetry is as animated as +what it paints. I can even like the epithet _Orient_; as the last is +the empire of fancy and poesy, I would allow its livery to be erected +into a colour. I think _blue-eyed Pleasures_ is allowable: when Homer +gave eyes of what hue he pleased to his Queen-Goddesses, sure Mr. Gray +may tinge those of their handmaids. + +In answer to your Lordship's objection to _many-twinkling_, in that +beautiful epode, I will quote authority to which you will yield. As +Greek as the expression is, it struck Mrs. Garrick, and she says, on +that whole picture, that Mr. Gray is the only poet who ever understood +dancing. + +These faults I think I can defend, and can excuse others; even the +great obscurity of the latter, for I do not see it in the first; the +subject of it has been taken for music,--it is the Power and Progress +of Harmonious Poetry. I think his objection to prefixing a title to it +was wrong--that Mr. Cooke published an ode with such a title. If the +Louis the Great, whom Voltaire has discovered in Hungary, had not +disappeared from history himself, would not Louis Quatorze have +annihilated him? I was aware that the second would have darknesses, +and prevailed for the insertion of what notes there are, and would +have had more. Mr. Gray said, whatever wanted explanation did not +deserve it, but that sentence was never so far from being an axiom as +in the present case. Not to mention how he had shackled himself with +strophe, antistrophe, and epode (yet acquitting himself nobly), +the nature of prophecy forbade him naming his kings. To me they are +apparent enough--yet I am far from thinking either piece perfect, +though with what faults they have, I hold them in the first rank of +genius and poetry. The second strophe of the first Ode is inexcusable, +nor do I wonder your Lordship blames it; even when one does understand +it, perhaps the last line is too turgid. I am not fond of the +antistrophe that follows. In the second Ode he made some corrections +for the worse. _Brave Urion_ was originally _stern_: brave is insipid +and commonplace. In the third antistrophe, _leave me unblessed, +unpitied_, stood at first, _leave your despairing Caradoc_. But the +capital faults in my opinion are these--what punishment was it to +Edward I to hear that his grandson would conquer France? or is so +common an event as Edward III being deserted on his death-bed, worthy +of being made part of a curse that was to avenge a nation? I can't +cast my eye here, without crying out on those beautiful lines that +follow, _Fair smiles the morn_? Though the images are extremely +complicated, what painting in the whirlwind, likened to a lion lying +in ambush for his evening prey, _in grim repose_. Thirst and hunger +mocking Richard II appear to me too ludicrously like the devils in +_The Tempest_, that whisk away the banquet from the shipwrecked Dukes. +From thence to the conclusion of Queen Elizabeth's portrait, which he +has faithfully copied from Speed, in the passage where she humbled the +Polish Ambassador, I admire. I can even allow that image of Rapture +hovering like an ancient grotesque, though it strictly has little +meaning: but there I take my leave--the last stanza has no beauties +for me. I even think its obscurity fortunate, for the allusions to +Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, are not only weak, but the two last +returning again, after appearing so gloriously in the first Ode, and +with so much fainter colours, enervate the whole conclusion. + +Your Lordship sees that I am no enthusiast to Mr. Gray: his great +lustre has not dazzled me, as his obscurity seems to have blinded his +contemporaries. Indeed, I do not think that they ever admired him, +except in his Churchyard, though the Eton Ode was far its superior, +and is certainly not obscure. The Eton Ode is perfect: those of more +masterly execution have defects, yet not to admire them is total want +of taste. I have an aversion to tame poetry; at best, perhaps the art +is the sublimest of the _difficiles nugae_; to measure or rhyme prose +is trifling without being difficult. + + + +To GEORGE MONTAGU + +_At Lady Suffolk's_ + + +Arlington Street, 11 _Jan_. 1764. + +It is an age, I own, since I wrote to you; but except politics, +what was there to send you? and for politics, the present are too +contemptible to be recorded by anybody but journalists, gazetteers, +and such historians! The ordinary of Newgate, or Mr.----, who write +for their monthly half-crown, and who are indifferent whether Lord +Bute, Lord Melcombe, or Maclean is their hero, may swear they +find diamonds on dunghills; but you will excuse _me_, if I let our +correspondence lie dormant rather than deal in such trash. I am forced +to send Lord Hertford and Sir Horace Mann such garbage, because +they are out of England, and the sea softens and makes palatable any +potion, as it does claret; but unless I can divert _you_, I had rather +wait till we can laugh together; the best employment for friends, +who do not mean to pick one another's pockets, nor make a property of +either's frankness. Instead of politics, therefore, I shall amuse you +to-day with a fairy tale. + +I was desired to be at my Lady Suffolk's on New Year's morn, where I +found Lady Temple and others. On the toilet Miss Hotham spied a small +round box. She seized it with all the eagerness and curiosity of +eleven years. In it was wrapped up a heart-diamond ring, and a paper +in which, in a hand as small as Buckinger's, who used to write the +Lord's Prayer in the compass of a silver penny, were the following +lines: + + Sent by a sylph, unheard, unseen, + A new-year's gift from Mab our queen: + But tell it not, for if you do, + You will be pinch'd all black and blue. + Consider well, what a disgrace, + To show abroad your mottled face: + Then seal your lips, put on the ring, + And sometimes think of Ob. the King. + +You will easily guess that Lady Temple was the poetess, and that we +were delighted with the genteelness of the thought and execution. The +child, you may imagine, was less transported with the poetry than the +present. Her attention, however, was hurried backwards and forwards +from the ring to a new coat, that she had been trying on when sent for +down; impatient to revisit her coat, and to show the ring to her maid, +she whisked upstairs; when she came down again, she found a letter +sealed, and lying on the floor--new exclamations! Lady Suffolk bade +her open it: here it is: + + Your tongue, too nimble for your sense, + Is guilty of a high offence; + Hath introduced unkind debate, + And topsy-turvy turn'd our state. + In gallantry I sent the ring, + The token of a love-sick king: + Under fair Mab's auspicious name + From me the trifling present came. + You blabb'd the news in Suffolk's ear; + The tattling zephyrs brought it here, + As Mab was indolently laid + Under a poppy's spreading shade. + The jealous queen started in rage; + She kick'd her crown, and beat her page: + 'Bring me my magic wand ', she cries; + 'Under that primrose, there it lies; + I'll change the silly, saucy chit, + Into a flea, a louse, a nit, + A worm, a grasshopper, a rat, + An owl, a monkey, hedgehog, bat. + But hold, why not by fairy art + Transform the wretch, into--? + Ixion once a cloud embraced, + By Jove and jealousy well placed; + What sport to see proud Oberon stare + And flirt it with a--!' + Then thrice she stamped the trembling ground, + And thrice she waved her wand around; + When I, endow'd with greater skill, + And less inclined to do you ill, + Mutter'd some words, withheld her arm, + And kindly stopp'd the unfinish'd charm. + But though not changed to owl or bat, + Or something more indelicate; + Yet, as your tongue has run too fast, + Your boasted beauty must not last. + No more shall frolic Cupid lie + In ambuscade in either eye, + From thence to aim his keenest dart + To captivate each youthful heart: + No more shall envious misses pine + At charms now flown, that once were thine: + No more, since you so ill behave, + Shall injured Oberon be your slave. + +There is one word which I could wish had not been there, though it is +prettily excused afterwards. The next day my Lady Suffolk desired I +would write her a patent for appointing Lady Temple poet laureate to +the fairies. I was excessively out of order with a pain in my stomach, +which I had had for ten days, and was fitter to write verses like +a poet laureate, than for making one; however, I was going home to +dinner alone, and at six I sent her some lines, which you ought to +have seen how sick I was, to excuse; but first, I must tell you my +tale methodically. The next morning by nine o'clock Miss Hotham (she +must forgive me twenty years hence for saying she was eleven, for I +recollect she is but ten) arrived at Lady Temple's, her face and neck +all spotted with saffron, and limping. 'Oh, madam!' said she, 'I am +undone for ever if you do not assist me!' 'Lord, child,' cried my Lady +Temple, 'what is the matter?' thinking she had hurt herself, or lost +the ring, and that she was stolen out before her aunt was up. 'Oh, +madam,' said the girl, 'nobody but you can assist me!' My Lady Temple +protests the child acted her part so well as to deceive her. 'What can +I do for you?' 'Dear madam, take this load from my back; nobody but +you can.' Lady Temple turned her round, and upon her back was tied a +child's waggon. In it were three tiny purses of blue velvet; in one of +them a silver cup, in another a crown of laurel, and in the third +four new silver pennies, with the patent, signed at top, 'Oberon +Imperator'; and two sheets of warrants strung together with blue silk +according to form; and at top an office seal of wax and a chaplet of +cut paper on it. The warrants were these: + + From the Royal Mews: + A waggon with the draught horses, delivered by + command without fee. + + From the Lord Chamberlain's Office: + A warrant with the royal sign manual, delivered + by command without fee, being first entered + in the office books. + + From the Lord Steward's Office: + A butt of sack, delivered without fee or gratuity, + with an order for returning the cask for the + use of the office, by command. + + From the Great Wardrobe: + Three velvet bags, delivered without fee, by + command. + + From the Treasurer of the Household's Office: + A year's salary paid free from land-tax, poundage, + or any other deduction whatever, by command. + + From the Jewel Office: + A silver butt, a silver cup, a wreath of bays, by + command without fee. + +Then came the Patent: + + By these presents be it known, + To all who bend before our throne, + Fays and fairies, elves and sprites, + Beauteous dames and gallant knights, + That we, Oberon the grand, + Emperor of fairy-land, + King of moonshine, prince of dreams, + Lord of Aganippe's streams, + Baron of the dimpled isles + That lie in pretty maidens' smiles, + Arch-treasurer of all the graces + Dispersed through fifty lovely faces, + Sovereign of the slipper's order, + With all the rites thereon that border, + Defender of the sylphic faith, + Declare--and thus your monarch saith: + Whereas there is a noble dame, + Whom mortals Countess Temple name, + To whom ourself did erst impart + The choicest secrets of our art, + Taught her to tune the harmonious line + To our own melody divine, + Taught her the graceful negligence, + Which, scorning art and veiling sense, + Achieves that conquest o'er the heart + Sense seldom gains, and never art; + This lady, 'tis our royal will, + Our laureate's vacant seat should fill: + A chaplet of immortal bays + Shall crown her brow and guard her lays; + Of nectar sack an acorn cup + Be at her board each year filled up; + And as each quarter feast comes round + A silver penny shall be found + Within the compass of her shoe-- + And so we bid you all adieu! + +Given at our palace of Cowslip Castle, the shortest night of the year. + +OBERON. + +And underneath, + +HOTHAMINA. + +How shall I tell you the greatest curiosity of the story? The whole +plan and execution of the second act was laid and adjusted by my +Lady Suffolk herself and Will. Chetwynd, Master of the Mint, Lord +Bolingbroke's Oroonoho-Chetwynd; he fourscore, she past seventy-six; +and what is more, much worse than I was, for, added to her deafness, +she has been confined these three weeks with the gout in her eyes, and +was actually then in misery, and had been without sleep. What +spirits, and cleverness, and imagination, at that age, and under those +afflicting circumstances! You reconnoitre her old court knowledge, how +charmingly she has applied it! Do you wonder I pass so many hours and +evenings with her? Alas! I had like to have lost her this morning! +They had poulticed her feet to draw the gout downwards, and began to +succeed yesterday, but to-day it flew up into her head, and she was +almost in convulsions with the agony, and screamed dreadfully; proof +enough how ill she was, for her patience and good breeding make her +for ever sink and conceal what she feels. This evening the gout has +been driven back to her foot, and I trust she is out of danger. Her +loss would be irreparable to me at Twickenham, where she is by far the +most rational and agreeable company I have.... + + + +To LADY HERVEY + +_A quiet life_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 11 _June_, 1765. + +I am almost as much ashamed, Madam, to plead the true cause of my +faults towards your ladyship, as to have been guilty of any neglect. +It is scandalous, at my age, to have been carried backwards and +forwards to balls and suppers and parties by very young people, as +I was all last week. My resolutions of growing old and staid are +admirable: I wake with a sober plan, and intend to pass the day with +my friends--then comes the Duke of Richmond, and hurries me down to +Whitehall to dinner--then the Duchess of Grafton sends for me to too +in Upper Grosvenor Street--before I can get thither, I am begged +to step to Kensington, to give Mrs. Anne Pitt my opinion about +a bow-window--after the loo, I am to march back to Whitehall to +supper--and after that, am to walk with Miss Pelham on the terrace +till two in the morning, because it is moonlight and her chair is not +come. All this does not help my morning laziness; and by the time I +have breakfasted, fed my birds and my squirrels, and dressed, there is +an auction ready. In short, Madam, this was my life last week, and +is I think every week, with the addition of forty episodes.--Yet, +ridiculous as it is, I send it to your ladyship, because I had +rather you should laugh at me than be angry. I cannot offend you in +intention, but I fear my sins of omission are equal to a good many +Christian's. Pray forgive me. I really will begin to be between forty +and fifty by the time I am fourscore: and I truly believe I shall +bring my resolutions within compass; for I have not chalked out any +particular business that will take me above forty years more; so that, +if I do not get acquainted with the grandchildren of all the present +age, I shall lead a quiet sober life yet before I die.... + + + +To THE REV. WILLIAM COLE + +_Gray's death_ + + +Paris, 12 _Aug_. 1771. + +DEAR SIR, + +I am excessively shocked at reading in the papers that Mr. Gray is +dead! I wish to God you may be able to tell me it is not true! Yet +in this painful uncertainty I must rest some days! None of my +acquaintance are in London. I do not know to whom to apply but to you. +Alas! I fear in vain! Too many circumstances speak it true! the detail +is exact;--a second paper arrived by the same post, and does not +contradict it--and what is worse, I saw him but four or five +days before I came hither; he had been to Kensington for the air, +complained of gout flying about him, of sensations of it in his +stomach, and indeed, thought him changed, and that he looked +ill--still I had not the least idea of his being in danger.--I started +up from my chair, when I read the paragraph--a cannon-ball could +not have surprised me more! The shock but ceased, to give way to my +concern; and my hopes are too ill founded to mitigate it. If nobody +has the charity to write to me, my anxiety must continue till the end +of the month, for I shall set out on my return on the 26th; and unless +you receive this time enough for your answer to leave London on the +20th, in the evening, I cannot meet it, till I find it in Arlington +Street, whither I beg you to direct it. + +If the event is but too true, pray add to this melancholy service, +that of telling me any circumstances you know of his death. Our long, +very long friendship, and his genius, must endear to me everything +that relates to him. What writings has he left? Who are his executors? +I should earnestly wish, if he has destined anything to the public, +to print it at my press--it would do me honour, and would give me an +opportunity of expressing what I feel for him. Methinks, as we grow +old, our only business here is to adorn the graves of our friends, or +to dig our own. + + + +To THE REV. WILLIAM MASON + +_The quarrel with Gray_ + + +2 _March_, 1773. + +What shall I say? How shall I thank you for the kind manner in which +you submit your papers to my correction? But if you are friendly, I +must be just. I am so far from being dissatisfied, that I must beg to +shorten your pen, and in that respect only would I wish, with regard +to myself, to alter your text. I am conscious that in the beginning of +the differences between Gray and me, the fault was mine. I was +young, too fond of my own diversions; nay, I do not doubt, too much +intoxicated by indulgence, vanity, and the insolence of my situation, +as a prime minister's son, not to have been inattentive to the +feelings of one, I blush to say it, that I knew was obliged to me; +of one, whom presumption and folly made me deem not very superior +in parts, though I have since felt my infinite inferiority to him. +I treated him insolently. He loved me, and I did not think he did. I +reproached him with the difference between us, when he acted from the +conviction of knowing that he was my superior. I often disregarded +his wish of seeing places, which I would not quit my own amusements to +visit, though I offered to send him thither without me. Forgive me, +if I say that his temper was not conciliating, at the same time that I +will confess to you that he acted a most friendly part, had I had the +sense to take advantage of it. He freely told me my faults. I declared +I did not wish to hear them, nor would correct them. You will not +wonder, that with the dignity of his spirit, and the obstinate +carelessness of mine, the breach must have widened till we became +incompatible. + +After this confession, I fear you will think I fall short in the +words I wish to have substituted for some of yours. If you think them +inadequate to the state of the case, as I own they are, preserve this +letter, and let some future Sir John Dalrymple produce it to load my +memory; but I own I do not desire that any ambiguity should aid his +invention to forge an account for me. If you have no objection, I +would propose your narrative should run thus ... and contain no more, +till a proper time shall come for publishing the truth, as I have +stated it to you. While I am living, it is not pleasant to see my +private disagreements discussed in magazines and newspapers. + + + +To THE COUNTESS OF UPPER OSSORY + +_Fashionable intelligence_ + + +Strawberry Hill, 27 _March_, 1773. + +What play makes you laugh very much, and yet is a very wretched +comedy? Dr. Goldsmith's _She Stoops to Conquer_. Stoops indeed!--so +she does, that is the Muse; she is draggled up to the knees, and has +trudged, I believe, from Southwark fair. The whole view of the +piece is low humour, and no humour is in it. All the merit is in the +situations, which are comic; the heroine has no more modesty than Lady +Bridget, and the author's wit is as much _manque_ as the lady's; but +some of the characters are well acted, and Woodward speaks a poor +prologue, written by Garrick, admirably. + +You perceive, Madam, that I have boldly sallied to a play; but the +heat of the house and of this sultry March half killed me, yet I limp +about as if I was young and pleased. From the play I travelled +to Upper Grosvenor Street, to Lady Edgecumbe's, supped at Lady +Hertford's. That Maccaroni rake, Lady Powis, who is just come to her +estate and spending it, calling in with news of a fire in the Strand +at past one in the morning, Lady Hertford, Lady Powis, Mrs. Howe, and +I, set out to see it, and were within an inch of seeing the Adelphi +buildings burnt to the ground. I was to have gone to the Oratorio +next night for Miss Linley's sake, but, being engaged to the French +ambassador's ball afterwards, I thought I was not quite Hercules +enough for so many labours, and declined the former. + +The house was all arbours and bowers, but rather more approaching to +Calcutta, where so many English were stewed to death; for as the Queen +would not dis-Maid of Honour herself of Miss Vernon till after the +Oratorio, the ball-room was not opened till she arrived, and we were +penned together in the little hall till we could not breathe. The +quadrilles were very pretty: Mrs. Darner, Lady Sefton, Lady Melbourne, +and the Princess Czartoriski in blue satin, with blond and _collets +montes a la reine Elizabeth_; Lord Robert Spencer, Mr. Fitzpatrick, +Lord Carlisle, and I forget whom, in like dresses with red sashes, +_derouge_, black hats with diamond loops and a few feathers before, +began; then the Henri Quatres and Quatresses, who were Lady Craven, +Miss Minching, the two Misses Vernons, Mr. Storer, Mr. Hanger, the Duc +de Lauzun, and George Damer, all in white, the men with black hats and +white feathers napping behind, danced another quadrille, and then both +quadrilles joined; after which Mrs. Hobart, all in gauze and spangles, +like a spangle-pudding, a Miss I forget, Lord Edward Bentinck, and +a Mr. Corbet, danced a _pas-de-quatre_, in which Mrs. Hobart indeed +performed admirably. + +The fine Mrs. Matthews in white, trimmed down all the neck and +petticoat with scarlet cock's feathers, appeared like a new macaw +brought from Otaheite; but of all the pretty creatures next to the +Carrara (who was not there) was Mrs. Bunbury; so that with her I was +in love till one o'clock, and then came home to bed. The Duchess of +Queensberry had a round gown of rose-colour, with a man's cape, which, +with the stomacher and sleeves, was all trimmed with mother-of-pearl +earrings. This Pindaric gown was a sudden thought to surprise the +Duke, with whom she had dined in another dress. Did you ever see so +good a joke?... + +Lord Chesterfield was dead before my last letter that foretold his +death set out. Alas! I shall have no more of his lively sayings, +Madam, to send you. Oh yes! I have his last: being told of the quarrel +in Spitalfields, and even that Mrs. F[itzroy] struck Miss P[oole], he +said, I always thought Mrs. F. a _striking_ beauty.' + +Thus, having given away all his wit to the last farthing, he has left +nothing but some poor witticisms in his will, tying up his heir by +forfeitures and jokes from going to Newmarket. + +I wrote this letter at Strawberry, and find nothing new in town to add +but a cold north-east that has brought back all our fires and furs. +Pray tell me a little of your Ladyship's futurity, and whether you +will deign to pass through London. + + + +TO THE REV. WILLIAM COLE + +_Antiquaries and authors_ + + +Arlington Street, 27 _April_, 1773. + +... Mr. Gough wants to be introduced to me! Indeed! I would see +him;... but he is so dull that he would only be troublesome--and +besides, you know I shun authors, and would never have been one +myself, if it obliged me to keep such bad company. They are always +in earnest, and think their profession serious, and will dwell upon +trifles, and reverence learning. I laugh at all these things, and +write only to laugh at them, and divert myself. None of us are authors +of any consequence; and it is the most ridiculous of all vanities to +be vain of being _mediocre_. A page in a great author humbles me +to the dust; and the conversation of those that are not superior +to myself, reminds me of what will be thought of myself. I blush to +flatter them, or to be flattered by them, and should dread letters +being published some time or other, in which they would relate our +interviews, and we should appear like those puny conceited witlings +in Shenstone's and Hughes's _Correspondence_, who give themselves airs +from being in possession of the soil of Parnassus for the time being; +as peers are proud, because they enjoy the estates of great men who +went before them. Mr. Gough is very welcome to see Strawberry Hill; or +I would help him to any scraps in my possession, that would assist +his publications; though he is one of those industrious who are +only re-burying the dead--but I cannot be acquainted with him. It is +contrary to my system and my humour; and besides, I know nothing +of barrows, and Danish intrenchments, and Saxon barbarisms, and +Phoenician characters--in short, I know nothing of those ages that +knew nothing--how then should I be of use to modern litterati? All the +Scotch metaphysicians have sent me their works. I did not read one of +them, because I do not understand what is not understood by those that +write about it; and I did not get acquainted with one of the writers. +I should like to be acquainted with Mr. Anstey, even though he wrote +Lord Buckhorse, or with the author of the _Heroic Epistle_--I have no +thirst to know the rest of my contemporaries, from the absurd bombast +of Dr. Johnson down to the silly Dr. Goldsmith; though the latter +changeling has had bright gleams of parts, and though the former had +sense, till he changed it for words, and sold it for a pension. Don't +think me scornful. Recollect that I have seen Pope, and lived with +Gray. Adieu! + + + +TO THE MISS BERRYS + +_Their first meeting_ + + +Tuesday night, 8 o'clock, 17 _Sept._ 1793. + +My beloved spouses, + +Whom I love better than Solomon loved his one spouse--or his one +thousand. I lament that the summer is over; not because of its +iniquity, but because you two made it so delightful to me, that six +weeks of gout could not sour it. Pray take care of yourselves--not +for your own sakes, but for mine; for, as I have just had my quota of +gout, I may, possibly, expect to see another summer; and, as you allow +that I do know my own, and when I wish for anything and have it, am +entirely satisfied, you may depend upon it that I shall be as happy +with a third summer, if I reach it, as I have been with the two last. + +Consider, that I have been threescore years and ten looking for a +society that I perfectly like; and at last there dropped out of the +clouds into Lady Herries's room two young gentlewomen, who I so little +thought were sent thither on purpose for me, that when I was told they +were the charming Miss Berrys, I would not even go to the side of the +chamber where they sat. But, as Fortune never throws anything at one's +head without hitting one, I soon found out that the charming Berrys +were precisely _ce qu'il me fallait_; and that though young enough to +be my great-grand-daughters, lovely enough to turn the heads of all +our youths, and sensible enough, if said youths have any brains, to +set all their heads to rights again. Yes, sweet damsels, I have found +that you can bear to pass half your time with an antediluvian, without +discovering any _ennui_ or disgust; though his greatest merit towards +you is, that he is not one of those old fools who fancy they are in +love in their dotage. I have no such vagary; though I am not +sorry that some folks think I am so absurd, since it frets their +selfishness. + + + + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH + +1728-1774 + + + +TO HIS MOTHER + +_At Cork_ + + +[c. 1751.] + +My dear mother, + +If you will sit down and calmly listen to what I say, you shall be +fully resolved in every one of those many questions you have asked me. +I went to Cork and converted my horse, which you prize so much higher +than Fiddleback, into cash, took my passage in a ship bound for +America, and, at the same time, paid the captain for my freight and +all the other expenses of my voyage. But it so happened that the wind +did not answer for three weeks; and you know, mother, that I could not +command the elements. My misfortune was, that, when the wind served, I +happened to be with a party in the country, and my friend the captain +never inquired after me, but set sail with as much indifference as if +I had been on board. The remainder of my time I employed in the city +and its environs, viewing everything curious; and you know no one can +starve while he has money in his pocket. + +Reduced, however, to my last two guineas, I began to think of my +dear mother and friends whom I had left behind me, and so bought +that generous beast Fiddleback, and made adieu to Cork with only five +shillings in my pocket. This, to be sure, was but a scanty allowance +for man and horse towards a journey of above a hundred miles; but I +did not despair, for I knew I must find friends on the road. + +I recollected particularly an old and faithful acquaintance I made at +college, who had often and earnestly pressed me to spend a summer +with him, and he lived but eight miles from Cork. This circumstance +of vicinity he would expatiate on to me with peculiar emphasis. 'We +shall,' says he, 'enjoy the delights of both city and country, and you +shall command my stable and my purse.' + +However, upon the way, I met a poor woman all in tears, who told me +her husband had been arrested for a debt he was not able to pay, and +that his eight children must now starve, bereaved as they were of his +industry, which had been their only support. I thought myself at home, +being not far from my good friend's house, and therefore parted with +a moiety of all my store; and pray, mother, ought I not to have given +her the other half-crown, for what she got would be of little use to +her? However, I soon arrived at the mansion of my affectionate friend, +guarded by the vigilance of a huge mastiff, who flew at me, and +would have torn me to pieces but for the assistance of a woman, whose +countenance was not less grim than that of the dog; yet she with great +humanity relieved me from the jaws of this Cerberus, and was prevailed +on to carry up my name to her master. + +Without suffering me to wait long, my old friend, who was then +recovering from a severe fit of sickness, came down in his nightcap, +nightgown, and slippers, and embraced me with the most cordial +welcome, showed me in, and after giving me a history of his +indisposition, assured me that he considered himself peculiarly +fortunate in having under his roof the man he most loved on earth, and +whose stay with him must, above all things, contribute to his perfect +recovery. I now repented sorely I had not given the poor woman the +other half-crown, as I thought all my bills of humanity would be +punctually answered by this worthy man. I revealed to him my whole +soul; I opened to him all my distresses; and freely owned that I +had but one half-crown in my pocket; but that now, like a ship after +weathering out the storm, I considered myself secure in a safe and +hospitable harbour. He made no answer, but walked about the room, +rubbing his hands as one in deep study. This I imputed to the +sympathetic feelings of a tender heart, which increased my esteem for +him, and as that increased, I gave the most favourable interpretation +to his silence. I construed it into delicacy of sentiment, as if he +dreaded to wound my pride by expressing his commiseration in words, +leaving his generous conduct to speak for itself. + +It now approached six o'clock in the evening; and as I had eaten no +breakfast, and as my spirits were raised, my appetite for dinner grew +uncommonly keen. At length the old woman came into the room with two +plates, one spoon, and a dirty cloth which she laid upon the table. +This appearance, without increasing my spirits, did not diminish my +appetite. My protectress soon returned with a small bowl of sago, a +small porringer of sour milk, a loaf of stale brown bread, and +the heel of an old cheese all over crawling with mites. My friend +apologized that his illness obliged him to live on slops, and that +better fare was not in the house; observing, at the same time, that +a milk diet was certainly the most healthful; and at eight o'clock he +again recommended a regular life, declaring that for his part he would +lie down with the lamb and rise with the lark. My hunger was at this +time so exceedingly sharp that I wished for another slice of the loaf, +but was obliged to go to bed without even that refreshment. + +This lenten entertainment I had received made me resolve to depart as +soon as possible; accordingly, next morning, when I spoke of going, +he did not oppose my resolution; he rather commended my design, adding +some very sage counsel upon the occasion. 'To be sure,' said he, 'the +longer you stay away from your mother, the more you will grieve her +and your other friends; and possibly they are already afflicted at +hearing of this foolish expedition you have made.' Notwithstanding all +this, and without any hope of softening such a sordid heart, I again +renewed the tale of my distress, and asking 'how he thought I could +travel above a hundred miles upon one half-crown?' I begged to borrow +a single guinea, which I assured him should be repaid with thanks. +'And you know, sir,' said I, 'it is no more than I have often done for +you.' To which he firmly answered, 'Why, look you, Mr. Goldsmith, that +is neither here nor there. I have paid you all you ever lent me, and +this sickness of mine has left me bare of cash. But I have bethought +myself of a conveyance for you; sell your horse, and I will furnish +you with a much better one to ride on.' I readily grasped at his +proposal, and begged to see the nag; on which he led me to his +bedchamber, and from under the bed he pulled out a stout oak stick. +'Here he is,' said he; 'take this in your hand, and it will carry you +to your mother's with more safety than such a horse as you ride.' I +was in doubt, when I got it into my hand, whether I should not in the +first place apply it to his pate; but a rap at the street-door +made the wretch fly to it, and when I returned to the parlour, +he introduced me, as if nothing of the kind had happened, to the +gentleman who entered, as Mr. Goldsmith, his most ingenious and worthy +friend, of whom he had so often heard him speak with rapture. I could +scarcely compose myself; and must have betrayed indignation in my mien +to the stranger, who was a counsellor-at-law in the neighbourhood, a +man of engaging aspect and polite address. + +After spending an hour, he asked my friend and me to dine with him at +his house. This I declined at first, as I wished to have no further +communication with my hospitable friend; but at the solicitation of +both I at last consented, determined as I was by two motives; one, +that I was prejudiced in favour of the looks and manner of the +counsellor; and the other, that I stood in need of a comfortable +dinner. And there, indeed, I found everything that I could wish, +abundance without profusion, and elegance without affectation. In the +evening, when my old friend, who had eaten very plentifully at his +neighbour's table, but talked again of lying down with the lamb, made +a motion to me for retiring, our generous host requested I should take +a bed with him, upon which I plainly told my old friend that he might +go home and take care of the horse he had given me, but that I should +never re-enter his doors. He went away with a laugh, leaving me to +add this to the other little things the counsellor already knew of his +plausible neighbour. + +And now, my dear mother, I found sufficient to reconcile me to all +my follies; for here I spent three whole days. The counsellor had +two sweet girls to his daughters, who played enchantingly on the +harpsichord; and yet it was but a melancholy pleasure I felt the first +time I heard them: for that being the first time also that either of +them had touched the instrument since their mother's death, I saw +the tears in silence trickle down their father's cheeks. I every day +endeavoured to go away, but every day was pressed and obliged to stay. +On my going, the counsellor offered me his purse, with a horse and +servant to convey me home; but the latter I declined, and only took a +guinea to bear my necessary expenses on the road. + + + +TO ROBERT BRYANTON + +_In Scotland_ + + +Edinburgh, 26 _Sept._ 1753 + +MY DEAR BOB, + +How many good excuses (and you know I was ever good at an excuse) +might I call up to vindicate my past shameful silence! I might tell +how I wrote a long letter on my first coming hither, and seem vastly +angry at my not receiving an answer; I might allege that business +(with business you know I was always pestered) had never given me +time to finger a pen--but I suppress those and twenty more equally +plausible, and as easily invented, since they might be attended with +a slight inconvenience of being known to be lies. Let me then speak +truth. An hereditary indolence (I have it from the mother's side) has +hitherto prevented my writing to you, and still prevents my writing +at least twenty-five letters more, due to my friends in Ireland. No +turnspit dog gets up into his wheel with more reluctance than I sit +down to write; yet no dog ever loved the roast meat he turns better +than I do him I now address. Yet what shall I say now I'm entered? +Shall I tire you with a description of this unfruitful country; +where I must lead you over their hills all brown with heath, or their +valleys scarce able to feed a rabbit? Man alone seems to be the only +creature who has arrived to the natural size in this poor soil. Every +part of the country presents the same dismal landscape. No grove, nor +brook, lend their music to cheer the stranger, or make the inhabitants +forget their poverty. Yet with all these disadvantages, enough to +call him down to humility, the Scotchman is one of the proudest things +alive. The poor have pride ever ready to relieve them. If mankind +should happen to despise them, they are masters of their own +admiration; and _that_ they can plentifully bestow upon themselves. + +From their pride and poverty, as I take it, results one advantage this +country enjoys; namely, the gentlemen here are much better bred than +amongst us. No such characters here as our fox-hunters; and they have +expressed great surprise when I informed them that some men in Ireland +of one thousand pounds a-year spend their whole lives in running after +a hare, and drinking to be drunk; and truly, if such a being, equipped +in his hunting dress, came among a circle of Scotch gentry, they would +behold him with the same astonishment that a countryman would King +George on horseback. + +The men here have generally high cheek-bones, and are lean and +swarthy, fond of action, dancing in particular. Though now I mention +dancing, let me say something of their balls, which are very frequent +here. When a stranger enters the dancing-hall, he sees one end of +the room taken up with the ladies, who sit dismally in a group by +themselves; on the other end stand their pensive partners that are to +be; but no more intercourse between the sexes than there is between +two countries at war. The ladies indeed may ogle, and the gentlemen +sigh; but an embargo is laid on any closer commerce. At length, to +interrupt hostilities, the lady directress, or intendant, or what you +will, pitches on a gentleman and lady to walk a minuet; which they +perform with a formality that approaches to despondence. After five +or six couple have thus walked the gauntlet, all stand up to country +dances; each gentleman furnished with a partner from the aforesaid +lady directress; so they dance much and say nothing, and thus +concludes our assembly. I told a Scotch gentleman that such profound +silence resembled the ancient procession of the Roman matrons in +honour of Ceres; and the Scotch gentleman told me (and, faith, I +believe he was right) that I was a very great pedant for my pains. + +Now I am come to the ladies; and to show that I love Scotland, and +everything that belongs to so charming a country, I insist on it, and +will give him leave to break my head that denies it--that the Scotch +ladies are ten thousand times handsomer and finer than the Irish. To +be sure, now, I see your sisters Betty and Peggy vastly surprised at +my partiality, but tell them flatly, I don't value them, or their fine +skins, or eyes, or good sense, or--, a potato; for I say it, and will +maintain it, and as a convincing proof (I'm in a very great passion) +of what I assert, the Scotch ladies say it themselves. But to be less +serious; where will you find a language so pretty become a pretty +mouth as the broad Scotch? and the women here speak it in its highest +purity; for instance, teach one of their young ladies to pronounce +'Whoar wull I gong?' with a becoming wideness of mouth, and I'll lay +my life they will wound every hearer. + +We have no such character here as a coquet, but alas! how many envious +prudes! Some days ago I walked into my Lord Kilcoubry's (don't be +surprised, my lord is but a glover), when the Duchess of Hamilton +(that fair who sacrificed her beauty to ambition, and her inward peace +to a title and gilt equipage) passed by in her chariot; her battered +husband, or more properly the guardian of her charms, sat by her side. +Straight envy began, in the shape of no less than three ladies who sat +with me, to find faults in her faultless form.--'For my part,' says +the first, 'I think what I always thought, that the Duchess has too +much red in her complexion.' 'Madam, I'm of your opinion,' says the +second; 'I think her face has a palish cast too much on the delicate +order.' 'And let me tell you,' adds the third lady, whose mouth was +puckered up to the size of an issue, 'that the Duchess has fine lips, +but she wants a mouth.'--At this every lady drew up her lips as if +going to pronounce the letter P. + +But how ill, my Bob, does it become me to ridicule women with whom +I have scarce any correspondence! There are, 'tis certain, handsome +women here; and 'tis as certain there are handsome men to keep them +company. An ugly and a poor man is society for himself; and such +society the world lets me enjoy in great abundance. Fortune has given +you circumstances, and nature a person to look charming in the eyes of +the fair world. Nor do I envy my dear Bob such blessings, while I may +sit down and laugh at the world and at myself, the most ridiculous +object in it. But I begin to grow splenetic, and perhaps the fit may +continue till I receive an answer to this. I know you can't send news +from Ballymahon, but such as it is, send it all; everything you write +will be agreeable and entertaining to me. + +Has George Conway put up a sign yet; or John Finecly left off drinking +drams; or Tom Allen got a new wig? But I leave to your own choice what +to write. While Oliver Goldsmith lives, know you have a friend. + +PS.--Give my sincere respects (not compliments, do you mind) to your +agreeable family, and give my service to my mother, if you see her; +for, as you express it in Ireland, I have a sneaking kindness for her +still. + +Direct to me,--Student in Physic, in Edinburgh. + + + +TO HIS UNCLE CONTARINE + +_In Holland_, + + +Leyden, _April_ or _May, 1754_. + +DEAR SIR, + +I suppose by this time I am accused of either neglect or ingratitude, +and my silence imputed to my usual slowness of writing. But believe +me, Sir, when I say, that till now I had not an opportunity of sitting +down with that ease of mind which writing required. You may see by the +top of the letter that I am at Leyden; but of my journey hither you +must be informed. Some time after the receipt of your last, I embarked +for Bordeaux, on board a Scotch ship called the _St. Andrews_, Capt. +John Wall, master. The ship made a tolerable appearance, and as +another inducement, I was let to know that six agreeable passengers +were to be my company. Well, we were but two days at sea when a storm +drove us into a city of England called Newcastle-upon-Tyne. We all +went ashore to refresh us after the fatigue of our voyage. Seven men +and I were one day on shore, and on the following evening as we were +all very merry, the room door bursts open, enters a sergeant and +twelve grenadiers with their bayonets screwed, and puts us all under +the King's arrest. It seems my company were Scotchmen in the French +service, and had been in Scotland to enlist soldiers for the French +army. I endeavoured all I could to prove my innocence; however, I +remained in prison with the rest a fortnight, and with difficulty got +off even then. Dear Sir, keep this all a secret, or at least say it +was for debt; for if it were once known at the University, I should +hardly get a degree. But hear how Providence interposed in my favour; +the ship was gone on to Bordeaux before I got from prison, and was +wrecked at the mouth of the Garonne, and every one of the crew were +drowned. It happened the last great storm. There was a ship at that +time ready for Holland. I embarked, and in nine days, thank my God, I +arrived safe at Rotterdam; whence I travelled by land to Leyden; and +whence I now write. + +You may expect some account of this country, and though I am not well +qualified for such an undertaking, yet shall I endeavour to satisfy +some part of your expectations. Nothing surprised me more than the +books every day published, descriptive of the manners of this country. +Any young man who takes it into his head to publish his travels, +visits the countries he intends to describe; passes through them with +as much inattention as his _valet de chambre_; and consequently not +having a fund himself to fill a volume, he applies to those who wrote +before him, and gives us the manners of a country, not as he must have +seen them, but such as they might have been fifty years before. The +modern Dutchman is quite a different creature from him of former +times; he in everything imitates a Frenchman but in his easy +disengaged air, which is the result of keeping polite company. +The Dutchman is vastly ceremonious, and is perhaps exactly what a +Frenchman might have been in the reign of Louis XIV. Such are the +better-bred. But the downright Hollander is one of the oddest figures +in nature. Upon a head of lank hair he wears a half-cocked narrow hat +laced with black ribbon: no coat, but seven waistcoats, and nine pairs +of breeches; so that his hips reach almost up to his armpits. This +well-clothed vegetable is now fit to see company, or make love. But +what a pleasing creature is the object of his appetite? Why, she +wears a large fur cap with a deal of Flanders lace: for every pair of +breeches he carries, she puts on two petticoats. + +A Dutch lady burns nothing about her phlegmatic admirer but his +tobacco. You must know, Sir, every woman carries in her hand a +stove with coals in it, which, when she sits, she snugs under her +petticoats; and at this chimney dozing Strephon lights his pipe. I +take it that this continual smoking is what gives the man the ruddy +healthful complexion he generally wears, by draining his superfluous +moisture, while the woman, deprived of this amusement, overflows with +such viscidities as tint the complexion, and give that paleness of +visage which low fenny grounds and moist air conspire to cause. A +Dutch woman and Scotch will well bear an opposition. + +The one is pale and fat, the other lean and ruddy: the one walks as if +she were straddling after a go-cart, and the other takes too masculine +a stride. I shall not endeavour to deprive either country of its share +of beauty; but must say, that of all objects on this earth, an English +farmer's daughter is most charming. Every woman there is a complete +beauty, while the higher class of women want many of the requisites to +make them even tolerable. Their pleasures here are very dull, though +very various. You may smoke, you may doze; you may go to the +Italian comedy, as good an amusement as either of the former. This +entertainment always brings in Harlequin, who is generally a magician, +and in consequence of his diabolical art performs a thousand tricks on +the rest of the persons of the drama, who are all fools. I have seen +the pit in a roar of laughter at this humour, when with his sword he +touches the glass from which another was drinking. 'Twas not his face +they laughed at, for that was masked. They must have seen something +vastly queer in the wooden sword, that neither I, nor you, Sir, were +you there, could see. + +In winter, when their canals are frozen, every house is forsaken, and +all people are on the ice; sleds, drawn by horses, and skating, are at +that time the reigning amusements. They have boats here that slide +on the ice, and are driven by the winds. When they spread all their +sails, they go more than a mile and a half a minute, and their motion +is so rapid the eye can scarcely accompany them. Their ordinary manner +of travelling is very cheap and very convenient: they sail in covered +boats drawn by horses; and in these you are sure to meet people of all +nations. Here the Dutch slumber, the French chatter, and the English +play at cards. Any man who likes company may have them to his taste. +For my part I generally detached myself from all society, and was +wholly taken up in observing the face of the country. Nothing can +equal its beauty; wherever I turn my eye, fine houses, elegant +gardens, statues, grottos, vistas, presented themselves; but when you +enter their towns you are charmed beyond description. No misery is to +be seen here; every one is usefully employed. + +Scotland and this country bear the highest contrast. There hills and +rocks intercept every prospect; here 'tis all a continued plain. There +you might see a well-dressed duchess issuing from a dirty close; and +here a dirty Dutchman inhabiting a palace. The Scotch may be compared +to a tulip planted in dung; but I never see a Dutchman in his own +house, but I think of a magnificent Egyptian temple dedicated to an +ox. Physic is by no means here taught so well as in Edinburgh; and +in all Leyden there are but four British students, owing to all +necessaries being so extremely dear, and the professors so very lazy +(the chemical professor excepted), that we don't much care to come +hither. I am not certain how long my stay here may be; however, I +expect to have the happiness of seeing you at Kilmore, if I can, next +March. + +Direct to me, if I am honoured with a letter from you, to Madam +Diallion's at Leyden. + +Thou best of men, may Heaven guard and preserve you, and those you +love. + + + +TO HIS BROTHER HENRY + +_Family matters_ + + +1759. + +... Imagine to yourself a pale, melancholy visage, with two great +wrinkles between the eyebrows, with an eye disgustingly severe, and a +big wig; and you may have a perfect picture of my present appearance. +On the other hand, I conceive you as perfectly sleek and healthy, +passing many a happy day among your own children, or those who knew +you a child. + +Since I knew what it was to be a man, this is a pleasure I have not +known. I have passed my days among a parcel of cool, designing beings, +and have contracted all their suspicious manner in my own behaviour. I +should actually be as unfit for the society of my friends at home, as +I detest that which I am obliged to partake of here. I can now neither +partake of the pleasure of a revel, nor contribute to raise its +jollity. I can neither laugh nor drink; have contracted a hesitating, +disagreeable manner of speaking, and a visage that looks ill-nature +itself; in short, I have thought myself into a settled melancholy, and +an utter disgust of all that life brings with it. Whence this romantic +turn that all our family are possessed with? Whence this love for +every place and every country but that in which we reside--for every +occupation but our own? this desire of fortune, and yet this eagerness +to dissipate? I perceive, my dear sir, that I am at intervals +for indulging this splenetic manner, and following my own taste, +regardless of yours. + +The reasons you have given me for breeding up your son as a scholar +are judicious and convincing; I should, however, be glad to know for +what particular profession he is designed. If he be assiduous and +divested of strong passions (for passions in youth always lead to +pleasure), he may do very well in your college; for it must be owned +that the industrious poor have good encouragement there, perhaps +better than in any other in Europe. But if he has ambition, strong +passions, and an exquisite sensibility of contempt, do not send him +there, unless you have no other trade for him except your own. It is +impossible to conceive how much may be done by a proper education +at home. A boy, for instance, who understands perfectly well Latin, +French, Arithmetic, and the principles of the Civil Law, and can +write a fine hand, has an education that may qualify him for any +undertaking; and these parts of learning should be better inculcated, +let him be designed for whatever calling he will. + +Above all things let him never touch a romance or novel; these paint +beauty in colours more charming than nature, and describe happiness +that man never tastes. How delusive, how destructive are those +pictures of consummate bliss! They teach the youthful mind to sigh +after beauty and happiness that never existed; to despise the little +good which fortune has mixed in our cup, by expecting more than she +ever gave; and, in general, take the word of a man who has seen +the world and who has studied human nature more by experience than +precept; take my word for it, that books teach us very little of the +world. The greatest merit in a state of poverty would only serve to +make the possessor ridiculous--may distress, but cannot relieve him. +Frugality, and even avarice, in the lower orders of mankind, are +true ambition. These afford the only ladder for the poor to rise to +preferment. Teach then, my dear sir, to your son thrift and economy. +Let his poor wandering uncle's example be placed before his eyes. I +had learned from books to be disinterested and generous, before I +was taught from experience the necessity of being prudent. I had +contracted the habits and notions of a philosopher, while I was +exposing myself to the insidious approaches of cunning: and often by +being, even with my narrow finances, charitable to excess, I forgot +the rules of justice, and placed myself in the very situation of the +wretch who thanked me for my bounty. When I am in the remotest part of +the world, tell him this, and perhaps he may improve from my example. +But I find myself again falling into my gloomy habits of thinking. + +My mother, I am informed, is almost blind; even though I had the +utmost inclination to return home, under such circumstances I could +not, for to behold her in distress without a capacity of relieving her +from it, would add much too to my splenetic habit. Your last letter +was much too short; it should have answered some queries I had made +in my former. Just sit down as I do, and write forward until you have +filled all your paper. It requires no thought, at least from the ease +with which my own sentiments rise when they are addressed to you. For, +believe me, my head has no share in all I write; my heart dictates the +whole. Pray give my love to Bob Bryanton, and entreat him from me not +to drink. My dear sir, give me some account about poor Jenny. Yet her +husband loves her: if so, she cannot be unhappy. + +I know not whether I should tell you--yet why should I conceal those +trifles, or indeed anything from you? There is a book of mine will be +published in a few days: the life of a very extraordinary man; no less +than the great Voltaire. You know already by the title that it is no +more than a catch-penny. However, I spent but four weeks on the whole +performance, for which I received twenty pounds. When published, I +shall take some method of conveying it to you, unless you may think +it dear of the postage, which may amount to four or five shillings. +However, I fear you will not find an equivalent of amusement. + +Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short; you should have given me +your opinion of the design of the heroi-comical poem which I sent you. +You remember I intended to introduce the hero of the poem as lying in +a paltry ale-house. You may take the following specimen of the manner, +which I flatter myself is quite original. The room in which he lies +may be described somewhat this way: + + The window, patched with paper, lent a ray + That feebly show'd the state in which he lay; + The sandy floor that grits beneath the tread, + The humid wall with paltry pictures spread; + The game of goose was there exposed to view, + And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew; + The Seasons, framed with listing, found a place, + And Prussia's monarch show'd his lamp-black face. + The morn was cold: he views with keen desire + A rusty grate, unconscious of a fire; + An unpaid reckoning on the frieze was scored, + And five crack'd teacups dress'd the chimney board. + +And now imagine after his soliloquy, the landlord to make his +appearance in order to dun him for the reckoning: + + Not with that face, so servile and so gay, + That welcomes every stranger that can pay: + With sulky eye he smoked the patient man, + Then pull'd his breeches tight, and thus began, &c. + +All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good remark of +Montaigne's, that the wisest men often have friends with whom they +do not care how much they play the fool. Take my present follies +as instances of regard. Poetry is a much easier and more agreeable +species of composition than prose; and, could a man live by it, it +were not unpleasant employment to be a poet. I am resolved to leave no +space, though I should fill it up only by telling you, what you very +well know already, I mean that I am + +Your most affectionate friend and brother. + + + + +WILLIAM COWPER + +1731-1800 + + + +TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON + +_Escapade of Puss_ + + +21 Aug. 1780. + +The following occurrence ought not to be passed over in silence, in +a place where so few notable ones are to be met with. Last Wednesday +night, while we were at supper, between the hours of eight and nine, I +heard an unusual noise in the back parlour, as if one of the hares was +entangled, and endeavouring to disengage herself. I was just going to +rise from table, when it ceased. In about five minutes, a voice on the +outside of the parlour door inquired if one of my hares had got +away. I immediately rushed into the next room, and found that my +poor favourite Puss had made her escape. She had gnawed in sunder the +strings of a lattice work, with which I thought I had sufficiently +secured the window, and which I preferred to any other sort of blind, +because it admitted plenty of air. From thence I hastened to the +kitchen, where I saw the redoubtable Thomas Freeman, who told me, +that having seen her, just after she had dropped into the street, he +attempted to cover her with his hat, but she screamed out, and leaped +directly over his head. I then desired him to pursue as fast as +possible, and added Richard Coleman to the chase, as being nimbler, +and carrying less weight than Thomas; not expecting to see her again, +but desirous to learn, if possible, what became of her. In something +less than an hour, Richard returned, almost breathless, with the +following account. That soon after he began to run, he left Tom +behind him, and came in sight of a most numerous hunt of men, women, +children, and dogs; that he did his best to keep back the dogs, and +presently outstripped the crowd, so that the race was at last disputed +between himself and Puss;--she ran right through the town, and down +the lane that leads to Dropshort; a little before she came to the +house, he got the start and turned her; she pushed for the town +again, and soon after she entered it, sought shelter in Mr. Wagstaff's +tanyard, adjoining to old Mr. Drake's. Sturges's harvest men were +at supper, and saw her from the opposite side of the way. There she +encountered the tanpits full of water; and while she was struggling +out of one pit, and plunging into another, and almost drowned, one of +the men drew her out by the ears, and secured her. She was then well +washed in a bucket to get the lime out of her coat, and brought home +in a sack at ten o'clock. + +This frolic cost us four shillings, but you may believe we did not +grudge a farthing of it. The poor creature received only a little hurt +in one of her claws, and in one of her ears, and is now almost as well +as ever. + +I do not call this an answer to your letter, but such as it is I send +it, presuming upon that interest which I know you take in my minutest +concerns, which I cannot express better than in the words of Terence a +little varied--_Nihil mei a te alienum putas._ + + + +TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN + +_A laugh that hurts nobody_ + + +_18 Nov. 1782._ + +MY DEAR WILLIAM, + +... I little thought when I was writing the history of John Gilpin, +that he would appear in print--I intended to laugh, and to make two +or three others laugh, of whom you were one. But now all the world +laughs, at least if they have the same relish for a tale ridiculous in +itself, and quaintly told, as we have.--Well--they do not always laugh +so innocently, or at so small an expense--for in a world like this, +abounding with subjects for satire, and with satirical wits to mark +them, a laugh that hurts nobody has at least the grace of novelty to +recommend it. Swift's darling motto was, _Vive la bagatelle_--a good +wish for a philosopher of his complexion, the greater part of whose +wisdom, whencesoever it came, most certainly came not from above. _La +bagatelle_ has no enemy in me, though it has neither so warm a friend, +nor so able a one, as it had in him. If I trifle, and merely trifle, +it is because I am reduced to it by necessity--a melancholy, that +nothing else so effectually disperses, engages me sometimes in the +arduous task of being merry by force. And, strange as it may seem, +the most ludicrous lines I ever wrote have been written in the saddest +mood, and, but for that saddest mood, perhaps had never been written +at all. To say truth, it would be but a shocking vagary, should +the mariners on board a ship buffeted by a terrible storm, employ +themselves in fiddling and dancing; yet sometimes much such a part act +I.... + + + +To THE REV. JOHN NEWTON + +_Village politicians_ + + +_26 Jan. 1783._ + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +It is reported among persons of the best intelligence at Olney--the +barber, the schoolmaster, and the drummer of a corps quartered at +this place,--that the belligerent powers are at last reconciled, the +articles of the treaty adjusted, and that peace is at the door. I saw +this morning, at nine o'clock, a group of about twelve figures very +closely engaged in a conference, as I suppose, upon the same subject. +The scene of consultation was a blacksmith's shed, very comfortably +screened from the wind, and directly opposed to the morning sun. Some +held their hands behind them, some had them folded across their bosom, +and others had thrust them into their breeches pockets. Every man's +posture bespoke a pacific turn of mind; but the distance being too +great for their words to reach me, nothing transpired. I am willing, +however, to hope that the secret will not be a secret long, and that +you and I, equally interested in the event, though not, perhaps, +equally well-informed, shall soon have an opportunity to rejoice in +the completion of it. The powers of Europe have clashed with each +other to a fine purpose; that the Americans, at length declared +independent, may keep themselves so, if they can; and that what the +parties, who have thought proper to dispute upon that point, have +wrested from each other in the course of the conflict, may be, in the +issue of it, restored to the proper owner. Nations may be guilty of +a conduct that would render an individual infamous for ever; and +yet carry their heads high, talk of their glory, and despise their +neighbours. Your opinions and mine, I mean our political ones, are +not exactly of a piece, yet I cannot think otherwise upon this subject +than I have always done. England, more, perhaps, through the fault of +her generals, than her councils, has in some instances acted with a +spirit of cruel animosity she was never chargeable with till now. But +this is the worst that can be said. On the other hand, the Americans, +who, if they had contented themselves with a struggle for lawful +liberty, would have deserved applause, seem to me to have incurred +the guilt of parricide, by renouncing their parent, by making her ruin +their favourite object, and by associating themselves with her worst +enemy, for the accomplishment of their purpose. France, and of course +Spain, have acted a treacherous, a thievish part. They have stolen +America from England, and whether they are able to possess themselves +of that jewel or not hereafter, it was doubtless what they intended. +Holland appears to me in a meaner light than any of them. They +quarrelled with a friend for an enemy's sake. The French led them +by the nose, and the English have threshed them for suffering it. +My views of the contest being, and having been always such, I have +consequently brighter hopes for England than her situation some time +since seemed to justify. She is the only injured party. America may, +perhaps, call her the aggressor; but if she were so, America has +not only repelled the injury, but done a greater. As to the rest, if +perfidy, treachery, avarice, and ambition can prove their cause to +have been a rotten one, those proofs are found upon them. I think, +therefore, that whatever scourge may be prepared for England, on some +future day, her ruin is not yet to be expected. Acknowledge, now, that +I am worthy of a place under the shed I described, and that I should +make no small figure among the _quidnuncs_ of Olney.... + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Village justice_ + + +17 _Nov_. 1783. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +... The country around us is much alarmed with apprehensions of fire. +Two have happened since that of Olney. One at Hitchin, where the +damage is said to amount to eleven thousand pounds, and another, at +a place not far from Hitchin, of which I have not learnt the name. +Letters have been dropped at Bedford, threatening to burn the town; +and the inhabitants have been so intimidated, as to have placed a +guard in many parts of it, several nights past. Some madman or some +devil has broke loose, who it is to be hoped will pay dear for these +effusions of his malignity. Since our conflagration here, we have sent +two women and a boy to the justice, for depredation; Sue Riviss, for +stealing a piece of beef, which, in her excuse, she said she intended +to take care of. This lady, whom you will remember, escaped for want +of evidence; not that evidence was indeed wanting, but our men of +Gotham judged it unnecessary to send it. With her went the woman I +mentioned before, who, it seems, has made some sort of profession, +but upon this occasion allowed herself a latitude of conduct rather +inconsistent with it, having filled her apron with wearing apparel, +which she likewise intended to take care of. She would have gone to +the county gaol, had Billy Raban, the baker's son, who prosecuted, +insisted on it, but he good-naturedly, though I think weakly, +interposed in her favour, and begged her off. The young gentleman who +accompanied these fair ones is the junior son of Molly Boswell. He +had stolen some iron-work, the property of Griggs, the butcher. Being +convicted, he was ordered to be whipt, which operation he underwent +at the cart's tail, from the stone-house to the high arch, and back +again. He seemed to show great fortitude, but it was all an imposition +upon the public. The beadle, who performed, had filled his left hand +with red ochre, through which, after every stroke, he drew the lash +of his whip, leaving the appearance of a wound upon the skin, but in +reality not hurting him at all. This being perceived by Mr. Constable +Hinschcomb, who followed the beadle, he applied his cane, without any +such management or precaution, to the shoulders of the too merciful +executioner. The scene immediately became more interesting. The beadle +could by no means be prevailed upon to strike hard, which provoked the +constable to still harder; and this double flogging continued, till a +lass of Silverend, pitying the pitiful beadle thus suffering under the +hands of the pitiless constable, joined the procession, and placing +herself immediately behind the latter, seized him by his capillary +club, and pulling him backwards by the same, slapt his face with a +most Amazonian fury. This concatenation of events has taken up more of +my paper than I intended it should, but I could not forbear to inform +you how the beadle thrashed the thief, the constable the beadle, +and the lady the constable, and how the thief was the only one who +suffered nothing. Mr. Teedon has been here, and is gone again. He came +to thank me for an old pair of breeches. In answer to our inquiries +after his health, he replied that he had a slow fever, which made +him take all possible care not to inflame his blood. I admitted +his prudence, but in his particular instance could not very clearly +discern the need of it. Pump water will not heat him much; and, to +speak a little in his own style, more inebriating fluids are to him, +I fancy, not very attainable. He brought us news, the truth of which, +however, I do not vouch for, that the town of Bedford was actually on +fire yesterday, and the flames not extinguished when the bearer of the +tidings left it. + +Swift observes, when he is giving his reasons why the preacher is +elevated always above his hearers, that let the crowd be as great as +it will below, there is always room enough overhead. If the French +philosophers can carry their art of flying to the perfection they +desire, the observation may be reversed, the crowd will be overhead, +and they will have most room who stay below. I can assure you, +however, upon my own experience, that this way of travelling is +very delightful. I dreamt, a night or two since, that I drove myself +through the upper regions in a balloon and pair, with the greatest +ease and security. Having finished the tour I intended, I made a short +turn, and, with one flourish of my whip, descended; my horses prancing +and curvetting with an infinite share of spirit, but without the least +danger, either to me or my vehicle. The time, we may suppose, is at +hand, and seems to be prognosticated by my dream, when these airy +excursions will be universal, when judges will fly the circuit, +and bishops their visitations; and when the tour of Europe will be +performed with much greater speed, and with equal advantage, by all +who travel merely for the sake of having it to say that they have made +it. + +I beg that you will accept for yourself and yours our unfeigned love, +and remember me affectionately to Mr. Bacon, when you see him. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A candidate's visit_ + + +29 _March_, 1784. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +It being his majesty's pleasure that I should yet have another +opportunity to write before he dissolves the parliament, I avail +myself of it with all possible alacrity. I thank you for your last, +which was not the less welcome for coming, like an extraordinary +gazette, at a time when it was not expected. + +As when the sea is uncommonly agitated, the water finds its way into +creeks and holes of rocks, which in its calmer state it never reaches, +in like manner the effect of these turbulent times is felt even at +Orchard-side, where in general we live as undisturbed by the political +element, as shrimps or cockles that have been accidentally deposited +in some hollow beyond the water mark, by the usual dashing of the +waves. We were sitting yesterday after dinner, the two ladies and +myself, very composedly, and without the least apprehension of any +such intrusion in our snug parlour, one lady knitting, the other +netting, and the gentleman winding worsted, when to our unspeakable +surprise a mob appeared before the window; a smart rap was heard at +the door, the boys halloo'd, and the maid announced Mr. Grenville. +Puss was unfortunately let out of her box, so that the candidate, with +all his good friends at his heels, was refused admittance at the grand +entry, and referred to the back door, as the only possible way of +approach. Candidates are creatures not very susceptible of affronts, +and would rather, I suppose, climb in at a window, than be absolutely +excluded. In a minute, the yard, the kitchen, and the parlour, were +filled. Mr. Grenville, advancing toward me, shook me by the hand with +a degree of cordiality that was extremely seducing. As soon as he and +as many more as could find chairs, were seated, he began to open the +intent of his visit. I told him I had no vote, for which he readily +gave me credit. I assured him I had no influence, which he was not +equally inclined to believe, and the less, no doubt, because Mr. +Ashburner, the draper, addressing himself to me at this moment, +informed me that I had a great deal. Supposing that I could not be +possessed of such a treasure without knowing it, I ventured to confirm +my first assertion, by saying, that if I had any I was utterly at a +loss to imagine where it could be, or wherein it consisted. Thus ended +the conference. Mr. Grenville squeezed me by the hand again, kissed +the ladies, and withdrew. He kissed likewise the maid in the kitchen, +and seemed upon the whole a most loving, kissing, kind-hearted +gentlemen. He has a pair of very good eyes in his head, which not +being sufficient as it should seem for the many nice and difficult +purposes of a senator, he has a third also, which he wore suspended by +a riband from his buttonhole. The boys halloo'd, the dogs barked, +Puss scampered, the hero, with his long train of obsequious followers, +withdrew. We made ourselves very merry with the adventure, and in a +short time settled into our former tranquillity, never probably to be +thus interrupted more. I thought myself, however, happy in being able +to affirm truly that I had not that influence for which he sued; +and which, had I been possessed of it, with my present views of the +dispute between the Crown and the Commons, I must have refused him, +for he is on the side of the former. It is comfortable to be of +no consequence in a world where one cannot exercise any without +disobliging somebody. The town, however, seems to be much at his +service, and if he be equally successful throughout the country, he +will undoubtedly gain his election. Mr. Ashburner perhaps was a little +mortified, because it was evident that I owed the honour of this visit +to his misrepresentation of my importance. But had he thought proper +to assure Mr. Grenville that I had three heads, I should not I suppose +have been bound to produce them.... + + + +To LADY HESKETH + +_An acquaintance reopened_ + + +Olney, 9 _Nov_. 1785. + +MY DEAREST COUSIN, + +Whose last most affectionate letter has run in my head ever since I +received it, and which I now sit down to answer two days sooner than +the post will serve me; I thank you for it, and with a warmth for +which I am sure you will give me credit, though I do not spend +many words in describing it. I do not seek _new_ friends, not being +altogether sure that I should find them, but have unspeakable +pleasure in being still beloved by an old one. I hope that now our +correspondence has suffered its last interruption, and that we shall +go down together to the grave, chatting and chirping as merrily as +such a scene of things as this will permit. + +I am happy that my poems have pleased you. My volume has afforded me +no such pleasure at any time, either while I was writing it, or since +its publication, as I have derived from yours and my uncle's opinion +of it. I make certain allowances for partiality, and for that peculiar +quickness of taste, with which you both relish what you like, and +after all drawbacks upon those accounts duly made, find myself rich in +the measure of your approbation that still remains. But above all, +I honour _John Gilpin_, since it was he who first encouraged you to +write. I made him on purpose to laugh at, and he served his purpose +well; but I am now in debt to him for a more valuable acquisition +than all the laughter in the world amounts to, the recovery of my +intercourse with you, which is to me inestimable. My benevolent and +generous Cousin, when I was once asked if I wanted anything, and given +delicately to understand that the inquirer was ready to supply all +my occasions, I thankfully and civilly, but positively, declined the +favour. I neither suffer, nor have suffered, any such inconveniences +as I had not much rather endure than come under obligations of that +sort to a person comparatively with yourself a stranger to me. But to +you I answer otherwise. I know you thoroughly, and the liberality of +your disposition, and have that consummate confidence in the +sincerity of your wish to serve me, that delivers me from all awkward +constraint, and from all fear of trespassing by acceptance. To you, +therefore, I reply, yes. Whensoever, and whatsoever, and in what +manner-soever you please; and add moreover, that my affection for the +giver is such as will increase to me tenfold the satisfaction that I +shall have in receiving. It is necessary, however, that I should let +you a little into the state of my finances, that you may not suppose +them more narrowly circumscribed than they are. Since Mrs. Unwin and +I have lived at Olney, we have had but one purse, although during the +whole of that time, till lately, her income was nearly double mine. +Her revenues indeed are now in some measure reduced, and do not much +exceed my own; the worst consequence of this is, that we are forced to +deny ourselves some things which hitherto we have been better able to +afford, but they are such things as neither life, nor the well-being +of life, depend upon. My own income has been better than it is, +but when it was best, it would not have enabled me to live as my +connexions demanded that I should, had it not been combined with a +better than itself, at least at this end of the kingdom. Of this I had +full proof during three months that I spent in lodgings at Huntingdon, +in which time by the help of good management, and a clear notion of +economical matters, I contrived to spend the income of a twelvemonth. +Now, my beloved Cousin, you are in possession of the whole case as it +stands. Strain no points to your own inconvenience or hurt, for there +is no need of it, but indulge yourself in communicating (no matter +what) that you can spare without missing it, since by so doing you +will be sure to add to the comforts of my life one of the sweetest +that I can enjoy--a token and proof of your affection. + +I cannot believe but that I should know you, notwithstanding all that +time may have done: there is not a feature of your face, could I meet +it upon the road, by itself, that I should not instantly recollect. +I should say that is my Cousin's nose, or those are her lips and her +chin, and no woman upon earth can claim them but herself. As for me, I +am a very smart youth of my years; I am not indeed grown grey so much +as I am grown bald. No matter: there was more hair in the world than +ever had the honour to belong to me; accordingly having found just +enough to curl a little at my ears, and to intermix with a little +of my own that still hangs behind, I appear, if you see me in an +afternoon, to have a very decent head-dress, not easily distinguished +from my natural growth, which being worn with a small bag, and a black +riband about my neck, continues to me the charms of my youth, even on +the verge of age. Away with the fear of writing too often! + +PS. That the view I give you of myself may be complete, I add the two +following items--That I am in debt to nobody, and that I grow fat. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The kindliness of thanks_ + + +30 _Nov_. 1785. + +My dearest cousin, + +Your kindness reduces me to a necessity (a pleasant one, indeed), of +writing all my letters in the same terms: always thanks, thanks at +the beginning, and thanks at the end. It is however, I say, a pleasant +employment when those thanks are indeed the language of the heart: and +I can truly add, that there is no person on earth whom I thank with +so much affection as yourself. You insisted that I should give you my +genuine opinion of the wine. By the way, it arrived without the least +damage or fracture, and I finished the first bottle of it this very +day. It is excellent, and though the wine which I had been used to +drink was not bad, far preferable to that. The bottles will be in town +on Saturday. I am enamoured of the desk and its contents before I see +them. They will be most entirely welcome. A few years since I made +Mrs. Unwin a present of a snuff-box--a silver one; the purchase was +made in London by a friend; it is of a size and form that make it +more fit for masculine than feminine use. She therefore with pleasure +accepts the box which you have sent--I should say with the greatest +pleasure. And I, discarding the leathern trunk that I have used so +long, shall succeed to the possession of hers. She says, Tell Lady +Hesketh that I truly love and honour her. Now, my Cousin, you may +depend upon it, as a most certain truth, that these words from her +lips are not an empty sound. I never in my life heard her profess a +regard for any one that she felt not. She is not addicted to the use +of such language upon ordinary occasions; but when she speaks it, +speaks from the heart. She has baited me this many a day, even as a +bear is baited, to send for Dr. Kerr. But, as I hinted to you upon +a former occasion, I am as mulish as most men are, and have hitherto +most ungallantly refused; but what is to be done now?--If it were +uncivil not to comply with the solicitations of one lady, to be +unmoved by the solicitations of two would prove me to be a bear +indeed. I will, therefore, summon him to consideration of said +stomach, and its ailments, without delay, and you shall know the +result.--I have read Goldsmith's _Traveller_ and his _Deserted +Village_, and am highly pleased with them both, as well for the manner +in which they are executed, as for their tendency, and the lessons +that they inculcate. + +Mrs. Unwin said to me a few nights since, after supper, 'I have two +fine fowls in feeding, and just fit for use; I wonder whether I should +send them to Lady Hesketh?' I replied, Yes, by all means! and I will +tell you a story that will at once convince you of the propriety of +doing so. My brother was curate on a time to Mr. Fawkes, of Orpington, +in Kent: it was when I lived in the Temple. One morning, as I was +reading by the fireside, I heard a prodigious lumbering at the door. I +opened it, and beheld a most rural figure, with very dirty boots, and +a great coat as dirty. Supposing that my great fame as a barrister had +drawn upon me a client from some remote region, I desired him to walk +in. He did so, and introduced himself to my acquaintance by telling me +that he was the farmer with whom my brother lodged at Orpington. +After this preliminary information he unbuttoned his great coat, and I +observed a quantity of long feathers projected from an inside pocket. +He thrust in his hand, and with great difficulty extricated a great +fat capon. He then proceeded to lighten the other side of him, by +dragging out just such another, and begged my acceptance of both. +I sent them to a tavern, where they were dressed, and I with two or +three friends, whom I invited to the feast, found them incomparably +better than any fowls we had ever tasted from the London co-ops. Now, +said I to Mrs. Unwin, it is likely that the fowls at Olney may be as +good as the fowls at Orpington, therefore send them; for it is not +possible to make so good a use of them in any other way ... Adieu, my +faithful, kind, and consolatory friend! + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Arrival of the desk_ + + +7 _Dec_. 1785. + +My dear cousin, + +At this time last night I was writing to you, and now I am writing to +you again ... My dear, you say not a word about the desk in your last, +which I received this morning. I infer from your silence that you +supposed it either at Olney or on its way thither, and that you +expected nothing so much as that my next would inform you of its safe +arrival;--therefore, where can it possibly be? I am not absolutely in +despair about it, for the reasons that I mentioned last night; but to +say the truth, I stand tottering upon the verge of it. I write, and +have written these many years, upon a book of maps, which I now begin +to find too low and too flat, though till I expected a better desk, +I found no fault with _them_. See and observe how true it is, that +by increasing the number of our conveniences, we multiply our wants +exactly in the same proportion! neither can I at all doubt that if you +were to tell me that all the men in London of any fashion at all, wore +black velvet shoes with white roses, and should also tell me that you +would send me such, I should dance with impatience till they arrived. +Not because I care one farthing of what materials my shoes are made, +but because any shoes of your sending would interest me from head to +foot. + +_Thursday Evening_. + +Oh that this letter had wings, that it might fly to tell you that my +desk, the most elegant, the compactest, the most commodious desk in +the world, and of all the desks that ever were or ever shall be, +the desk that I love the most, is safe arrived. Nay, my dear, it was +actually at Sherrington, when the wagoner's wife (for the man himself +was not at home) croaked out her abominable _No_! yet she examined the +bill of lading, but either did it so carelessly, or as poor Dick Madan +used to say, with such an _ignorant eye_, that my name escaped her. My +precious Cousin, you have bestowed too much upon me. I have nothing +to render you in return, but the affectionate feelings of a heart most +truly sensible of your kindness. How pleasant it is to write upon such +a green bank! I am sorry that I have so nearly reached the end of +my paper. I have now however only room to say that Mrs. Unwin is +delighted with her box, and bids me do more than thank you for +it. What can I do more at this distance but say that she loves you +heartily, and that so do I? The pocket-book is also the completest +that I ever saw, and the watch-chain the most brilliant. + +Adieu for a little while. Now for Homer. + +N.B.--I generally write the day before the post sets out, which is +the thing that puzzles you. I do it that I may secure time for the +purpose, and may not be hurried. On this very day twenty-two years ago +I left London. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Anticipations of a visit_ + + +Olney, 9 _Feb_. 1786. + +MY DEAREST COUSIN, + +I have been impatient to tell you that I am impatient to see you +again. Mrs. Unwin partakes with me in all my feelings upon this +subject, and longs also to see you. I should have told you so by the +last post, but have been so completely occupied by this tormenting +specimen, that it was impossible to do it. I sent the General a letter +on Monday that should distress and alarm him; I sent him another +yesterday, that will, I hope, quiet him again. Johnson has apologized +very civilly for the multitude of his friend's strictures; and his +friend has promised to confine himself in future to a comparison of +me with the original, so that, I doubt not, we shall jog on merrily +together. And now, my dear, let me tell you once more, that your +kindness in promising us a visit has charmed us both! I shall see you +again. I shall hear your voice. We shall take walks together. I will +show you my prospects, the hovel, the alcove, the Ouse and its banks, +everything that I have described. I anticipate the pleasure of those +days not very far distant, and feel a part of it at this moment. Talk +not of an inn! Mention it not for your life! We have never had so many +visitors, but we could easily accommodate them all, though we have +received Unwin, and his wife, and his sister, and his son all at once. +My dear, I will not let you come till the end of May, or beginning +of June, because before that time my greenhouse will not be ready to +receive us, and it is the only pleasant room belonging to us. When +the plants go out, we go in. I line it with mats, and spread the floor +with mats; and there you shall sit with a bed of mignonette at your +side, and a hedge of honeysuckles, roses, and jasmine; and I will make +you a bouquet of myrtle every day. Sooner than the time I mention the +country will not be in complete beauty. + +And I will tell you what you shall find at your first entrance. +Imprimis, as soon as you have entered the vestibule, if you cast a +look on either side of you, you shall see on the right hand a box of +my making. It is the box in which have been lodged all my hares, and +in which lodges Puss at present; but he, poor fellow, is worn out with +age, and promises to die before you can see him. On the right +hand stands a cupboard, the work of the same author; it was once a +dove-cage, but I transformed it. Opposite to you stands a table, +which I also made; but a merciless servant having scrubbed it until it +became paralytic, it serves no purpose now but of ornament; and all +my clean shoes stand under it. On the left hand, at the farther end +of this superb vestibule, you will find the door of the parlour, +into which I will conduct you, and where I will introduce you to Mrs. +Unwin, unless we should meet her before, and where we will be as happy +as the day is long. Order yourself, my Cousin, to the Swan at Newport, +and there you shall find me ready to conduct you to Olney. + +My dear, I have told Homer what you say about casks and urns, and have +asked him whether he is sure that it is a cask in which Jupiter keeps +his wine. He swears that it is a cask, and that it will never be +anything better than a cask to eternity. So if the god is content with +it, we must even wonder at his taste, and be so too. + +Adieu! my dearest, dearest Cousin. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Commissions and thanks_ + + +The Lodge, 24 _Dec_. 1786. + +You must by no means, my dearest Coz, pursue the plan that has +suggested itself to you on the supposed loss of your letter. In +the first place I choose that my Sundays, like the Sundays of other +people, shall be distinguished by something that shall make me look +forward to them with agreeable expectation, and for that reason desire +that they may always bring me a letter from you. In the next place, +if I know when to _expect_ a letter, I know likewise when to _inquire +after_ a letter, if it happens not to come; a circumstance of some +importance, considering how excessively careless they are at the Swan, +where letters are sometimes overlooked, and do not arrive at their +destination, if no inquiry be made, till some days have passed since +their arrival at Olney. It has happened frequently to me to receive +a letter long after all the rest have been delivered, and the Padre +assured me that Mr. Throckmorton has sent notes three several times to +Mrs. Marriot, complaining of this neglect. For these reasons, my dear, +thou must write still on Saturdays, and as often on other days as thou +pleasest. + +The screens came safe, and one of them is at this moment interposed +between me and the fire, much to the comfort of my peepers. The +other of them being fitted up with a screw that was useless, I have +consigned it to proper hands, that it may be made as serviceable +as its brother. They are very neat, and I account them a great +acquisition. Our carpenter assures me that the lameness of the chairs +was not owing to any injury received in their journey, but that the +maker never properly finished them. They were not high when they came, +and in order to reduce them to a level, we have lowered them an inch. +Thou knowest, child, that the short foot could not be lengthened, for +which reason we shortened the long ones. The box containing the plate +and the brooms reached us yesterday, and nothing had suffered the +least damage by the way. Everything is smart, everything is elegant, +and we admire them all. The short candlesticks are short enough. I am +now writing with those upon the table; Mrs. U. is reading opposite, +and they suit us both exactly. With the money that you have in hand, +you may purchase, my dear, at your most convenient time, a tea-urn; +that which we have at present having never been handsome, and being +now old and patched. A parson once, as he walked across the parlour, +pushed it down with his belly, and it never perfectly recovered +itself. We want likewise a tea-waiter, meaning, if you please, such +a one as you may remember to have seen at the Hall, a wooden one. +To which you may add, from the same fund, three or four yards of +yard-wide muslin, wherewithal to make neckcloths for my worship. If +after all these disbursements anything should be left at the bottom +of the purse, we shall be obliged to you if you will expend it in the +purchase of silk pocket-handkerchiefs. There, my precious--I think I +have charged thee with commissions in plenty. + +You neither must nor shall deny us the pleasure of sending to you +such small matters as we do. As to the partridges, you may recollect +possibly, when I remind you of it, that I never eat them; they refuse +to pass my stomach; and Mrs. Unwin rejoiced in receiving them only +because she could pack them away to you--therefore never lay us under +any embargoes of this kind, for I tell you beforehand, that we are +both incorrigible. My beloved Cousin, the first thing that I open my +eyes upon in a morning, is it not the bed in which you have laid me? +Did you not, in our old dismal parlour at Olney, give me the tea on +which I breakfast?--the chocolate that I drank at noon, and the table +at which I dine?--the everything, in short, that I possess in the +shape of convenience, is it not all from you? and is it possible, +think you, that we should either of us overlook an opportunity of +making such a tiny acknowledgement of your kindness? Assure yourself +that never, while my name is Giles Gingerbread, will I dishonour my +glorious ancestry, and my illustrious appellation, by so unworthy a +conduct. I love you at my heart, and so does Mrs. U., and we must say +thank you, and send you a peppercorn when we can. So thank you, my +dear, for the brawn and the chine, and for all the good things that +you announce, and at present I will, for your sake, say no more of +thanksgiving. + + + +TO MRS. BODHAM + +_His mother's portrait_ + + +Weston, 27 _Feb._ 1790. + +MY DEAREST ROSE, + +Whom I thought withered, and fallen from the stalk, but whom I still +find alive: nothing could give me greater pleasure than to know it, +and to hear it from yourself. I loved you dearly when you were a +child, and love you not a jot the less for having ceased to be so. +Every creature that bears any affinity to my mother is dear to me, and +you, the daughter of her brother, are but one remove distant from her: +I love you, therefore, and love you much, both for her sake, and for +your own. The world could not have furnished you with a present so +acceptable to me, as the picture which you have so kindly sent me. I +received it the night before last, and viewed it with a trepidation of +nerves and spirits somewhat akin to what I should have felt, had the +dear original presented herself to my embraces. I kissed it, and hung +it where it is the last object that I see at night, and, of course, +the first on which I open my eyes in the morning. She died when I +completed my sixth year; yet I remember her well, and am an ocular +witness of the great fidelity of the copy. I remember, too, a +multitude of the maternal tendernesses which I received from her, and +which have endeared her memory to me beyond expression. There is in +me, I believe, more of the Donne than of the Cowper; and though I love +all of both names, and have a thousand reasons to love those of my own +name, yet I feel the bond of nature draw me vehemently to your side. +I was thought in the days of my childhood much to resemble my mother; +and in my natural temper, of which at the age of fifty-eight I must +be supposed to be a competent judge, can trace both her, and my late +uncle, your father. Somewhat of his irritability; and a little, +I would hope, both of his and of her--I know not what to call it, +without seeming to praise myself, which is not my intention, but +speaking to _you_, I will even speak out, and say _good nature_. Add +to all this, I deal much in poetry, as did our venerable ancestor, the +Dean of St. Paul's, and I think I shall have proved myself a Donne at +all points. The truth is, that whatever I am, I love you all. + + + + +EDMUND BURKE + +1729-1797 + + + +TO MATTHEW SMITH + +_First impressions of London_ + + +[1750.] + +You'll expect some short account of my journey to this great city. To +tell you the truth, I made very few remarks as I rolled along, for my +mind was occupied with many thoughts, and my eyes often filled with +tears, when I reflected on all the dear friends I left behind; yet +the prospects could not fail to attract the attention of the most +indifferent: country seats sprinkled round on every side, some in the +modern taste, some in the style of old De Coverley Hall, all smiling +on the neat but humble cottage; every village as neat and compact as +a bee-hive, resounding with the busy hum of industry; and inns like +palaces. + +What a contrast to our poor country, where you'll scarce find a +cottage ornamented with a chimney! But what pleased me most of all +was the progress of agriculture, my favourite study, and my favourite +pursuit, if Providence had blessed me with a few paternal acres. + +A description of London and its natives would fill a volume. The +buildings are very fine: it may be called the sink of vice: but its +hospitals and charitable institutions, whose turrets pierce the skies +like so many electrical conductors, avert the wrath of Heaven. The +inhabitants may be divided into two classes, the _undoers_ and the +_undone_; generally so, I say, for I am persuaded there are many men +of honesty and women of virtue in every street. An Englishman is +cold and distant at first; he is very cautious even in forming an +acquaintance; he must know you well before he enters into friendship +with you; but if he does, he is not the first to dissolve that sacred +bond: in short, a real Englishman is one that performs more than he +promises; in company he is rather silent, extremely prudent in his +expressions, even in politics, his favourite topic. The women are not +quite so reserved; they consult their glasses to the best advantage; +and as nature is very liberal in her gifts to their persons, and even +minds, it is not easy for a young man to escape their glances, or to +shut his ears to their softly flowing accents. + +As to the state of learning in this city, you know I have not been +long enough in it to form a proper judgement of that subject. I don't +think, however, there is as much respect paid to a man of letters on +this side of the water as you imagine. I don't find that genius, the +'rath primrose, which forsaken dies', is patronized by any of the +nobility, so that writers of the first talents are left to the +capricious patronage of the public. Notwithstanding discouragement, +literature is cultivated in a high degree. Poetry raises her +enchanting voice to Heaven. History arrests the wings of Time in his +flight to the gulf of oblivion. Philosophy, the queen of arts, and the +daughter of Heaven, is daily extending her intellectual empire. Fancy +sports on airy wing like a meteor on the bosom of a summer cloud; and +even Metaphysics spins her cobwebs, and catches some flies. + +The House of Commons not unfrequently exhibits explosions of eloquence +that rise superior to those of Greece and Rome, even in their +proudest days. Yet, after all, a man will make more by the figures of +arithmetic than the figures of rhetoric, unless he can get into the +trade wind, and then he may sail secure over Pactolean sands. As to +the stage, it is sunk, in my opinion, into the lowest degree; I +mean with regard to the trash that is exhibited on it; but I don't +attribute this to the taste of the audience, for when Shakespeare +warbles his 'native woodnotes', the boxes, pit, and gallery, are +crowded--and the gods are true to every word, if properly winged to +the heart. + +Soon after my arrival in town I visited Westminster Abbey: the +moment I entered I felt a kind of awe pervade my mind which I cannot +describe; the very silence seemed sacred. Henry VII's chapel is a very +fine piece of Gothic architecture, particularly the roof; but I am +told that it is exceeded by a chapel in the University of Cambridge. +Mrs. Nightingale's monument has not been praised beyond its merit. The +attitude and expression of the husband in endeavouring to shield his +wife from the dart of death, is natural and affecting. But I always +thought that the image of death would be much better represented with +an extinguished torch inverted, than with a dart. Some would imagine +that all these monuments were so many monuments of folly;--I don't +think so; what useful lessons of morality and sound philosophy do +they not exhibit! When the high-born beauty surveys her face in the +polished Parian, though dumb the marble, yet it tells her that it was +placed to guard the remains of as fine a form, and as fair a face as +her own. They show besides how anxious we are to extend our loves and +friendships beyond the grave, and to snatch as much as we can from +oblivion--such is our natural love of immortality; but it is here +that letters obtain the noblest triumphs; it is here that the swarthy +daughters of Cadmus may hang their trophies on high; for when all +the pride of the chisel and the pomp of heraldry yield to the silent +touches of time, a single line, a half-worn-out inscription, remain +faithful to their trust. Blest be the man that first introduced these +strangers into our islands, and may they never want protection or +merit! I have not the least doubt that the finest poem in the +English language, I mean Milton's _Il Penseroso_, was composed in the +long-resounding aisle of a mouldering cloister or ivy'd abbey. Yet +after all do you know that I would rather sleep in the southern corner +of a little country churchyard, than in the tomb of the Capulets. I +should like, however, that my dust should mingle with kindred dust. +The good old expression 'family burying-ground' has something pleasing +in it, at least to me. + + + +To JAMES BARRY + +_A friend's infirmities_ + + +Gregories, 16 _Sept_. 1769. + +MY DEAR BARRY, + +I am most exceedingly obliged to your friendship and partiality, +which attributed a silence very blameable on our parts to a favourable +cause: let me add in some measure to its true cause, a great deal of +occupation of various sorts, and some of them disagreeable enough. + +As to any reports concerning your conduct and behaviour, you may be +very sure they could have no kind of influence here; for none of us +are of such a make as to trust to any one's report for the character +of a person whom we ourselves know. Until very lately, I had never +heard anything of your proceedings from others; and when I did, it was +much less than I had known from yourself, that you had been upon ill +terms with the artists and virtuosi in Rome, without much mention of +cause or consequence. If you have improved these unfortunate quarrels +to your advancement in your art, you have turned a very disagreeable +circumstance to a very capital advantage. However you may have +succeeded in this uncommon attempt, permit me to suggest to you, with +that friendly liberty which you have always had the goodness to bear +from me, that you cannot possibly have always the same success, either +with regard to your fortune or your reputation. Depend upon it, that +you will find the same competitions, the same jealousies, the same +arts and cabals, the emulations of interest and of fame, and the same +agitations and passions here that you have experienced in Italy; and +if they have the same effect on your temper, they will have just the +same effects upon your interest; and be your merit what it will, you +will never be employed to paint a picture. It will be the same at +London as at Rome, and the same in Paris as in London, for the world +is pretty nearly alike in all its parts; nay, though it would perhaps +be a little inconvenient to me, I had a thousand times rather you +should fix your residence in Rome than here, as I should not then have +the mortification of seeing with my own eyes a genius of the first +rank lost to the world, himself, and his friends; as I certainly must, +if you do not assume a manner of acting and thinking here, totally +different from what your letters from Rome have described to me. + +That you have had just subjects of indignation always, and of anger +often, I do no ways doubt; who can live in the world without some +trial of his patience? But believe me, my dear Barry, that the arms +with which the ill dispositions of the world are to be combated, and +the qualities by which it is to be reconciled to us, and we reconciled +to it, are moderation, gentleness, a little indulgence to others, and +a great deal of mistrust of ourselves; which are not qualities of a +mean spirit, as some may possibly think them; but virtues of a +great and noble kind, and such as dignify our nature as much as they +contribute to our repose and fortune; for nothing can be so unworthy +of a well-composed soul, as to pass away life in bickerings and +litigations, in snarling and scuffling with every one about us. + +Again and again, my dear Barry, we must be at peace with our species; +if not for their sakes yet very much for our own. Think what my +feelings must be, from my unfeigned regard, and from my wishes +that your talents might be of use, when I see what the inevitable +consequences must be, of your persevering in what has hitherto been +your course, ever since I knew you, and which you will permit me to +trace out for you beforehand. + +You will come here; you will observe what the artists are doing; +and you will sometimes speak a disapprobation in plain words, and +sometimes by a no less expressive silence. By degrees you will produce +some of your own works. They will be variously criticized; you +will defend them; you will abuse those that have attacked you; +expostulations, discussions, letters, possibly challenges, will go +forward; you will shun your brethren, they will shun you. In the +meantime, gentlemen will avoid your friendship, for fear of being +engaged in your quarrels; you will fall into distresses which will +only aggravate your disposition for further quarrels; you will be +obliged for maintenance to do anything for anybody; your very talents +will depart for want of hope and encouragement; and you will go out of +the world fretted, disappointed, and ruined. + +Nothing but my real regard for you could induce me to set these +considerations in this light before you. Remember, we are born +to serve and to adorn our country, and not to contend with our +fellow-citizens, and that in particular your business is to paint and +not to dispute.... + +If you think this a proper time to leave Rome (a matter which I +leave entirely to yourself), I am quite of opinion you ought to go +to Venice. Further, I think it right to see Florence and Bologna; and +that you cannot do better than to take that route to Venice. In short, +do everything that may contribute to your improvement, and I shall +rejoice to see you what Providence intended you, a very great man. +This you were, in your _ideas_, before you quitted this; you best know +how far you have studied, that is, practised the mechanic; despised +nothing till you had tried it; practised dissections with your own +hands, painted from nature as well as from the statues, and portrait +as well as history, and this frequently. If you have done all this, +as I trust you have, you want nothing but a little prudence, to fulfil +all our wishes. This, let me tell you, is no small matter; for it is +impossible for you to find any persons anywhere more truly interested +for you; to these dispositions attribute everything which may be a +little harsh in this letter. We are, thank God, all well, and all most +truly and sincerely yours. I seldom write so long a letter. Take this +as a sort of proof how much I am, dear Barry, Your faithful friend. + + + +To LORD AUCKLAND + +_An old stag at bay_ + + +Beaconsfield, 30 _Oct_. 1795. + +My dear Lord, + +I am perfectly sensible of the very flattering honour you have done +me in turning any part of your attention towards a dejected old man, +buried in the anticipated grave of a feeble old age, forgetting and +forgotten in an obscure and melancholy retreat. + +In this retreat I have nothing relative to this world to do but to +study all the tranquillity that in the state of my mind I am capable +of. To that end I find it but too necessary to call to my aid an +oblivion of most of the circumstances pleasant and unpleasant of my +life; to think as little, and indeed to know as little as I can of +everything that is doing about me; and, above all, to divert my mind +from all presagings and prognostications of what I must (if I let my +speculations loose) consider as of absolute necessity to happen after +my death, and possibly even before it. Your address to the public +which you have been so good as to send to me, obliges me to break in +upon that plan, and to look a little on what is behind, and very much +on what is before me. It creates in my mind a variety of thoughts, and +all of them unpleasant. + +It is true, my Lord, what you say, that through our public life, +we have generally sailed on somewhat different tacks. We have so +undoubtedly, and we should do so still, if I had continued longer +to keep the sea. In that difference you rightly observe that I have +always done justice to your skill and ability as a navigator, and to +your good intentions towards the safety of the cargo and of the ship's +company. I cannot say now that we are on different tacks. There would +be no propriety in the metaphor. I can sail no longer. My vessel +cannot be said to be even in port. She is wholly condemned and broken +up. To have an idea of that vessel you must call to mind what you have +often seen on the Kentish road. Those planks of tough and hardy oak +that used for years to brave the buffets of the Bay of Biscay, are +now turned with their warped grain and empty trunnion holes into very +wretched pales for the enclosure of a wretched farmyard. + +The style of your pamphlet, and the eloquence and power of composition +you display in it, are such as do great honour to your talents; and +in conveying any other sentiments would give me very great pleasure. +Perhaps I do not very perfectly comprehend your purpose, and the drift +of your arguments. If I do not--pray do not attribute my mistake to +want of candour, but to want of sagacity. I confess your address to +the public, together with other accompanying circumstances, has filled +me with a degree of grief and dismay which I cannot find words to +express. If the plan of politics there recommended, pray excuse my +freedom, should be adopted by the King's Councils and by the good +people of this kingdom (as so recommended undoubtedly it will) +nothing can be the consequence but utter and irretrievable ruin to the +Ministry, to the Crown, to the succession, to the importance, to the +independence, to the very existence of this country. + +This is my feeble perhaps, but clear, positive, decided, long and +maturely reflected, and frequently declared opinion, from which all +the events which have lately come to pass, so far from turning me, +have tended to confirm beyond the power of alteration, even by your +eloquence and authority. I find, my dear Lord, that you think some +persons who are not satisfied with the securities of a Jacobin peace, +to be persons of intemperate minds. I may be, and I fear I am with you +in that description: but pray, my Lord, recollect that very few of +the causes which make men intemperate, can operate upon me. Sanguine +hopes, vehement desires, inordinate ambition, implacable animosity, +party attachments, or party interests; all these with me have no +existence. For myself or for a family (alas! I have none), I have +nothing to hope or to fear in this world. I am attached by principle, +inclination, and gratitude to the King, and to the present Ministry. + +Perhaps you may think that my animosity to Opposition is the cause of +my dissent on seeing the politics of Mr. Fox (which while I was in the +world I combated by every instrument which God had put into my hands, +and in every situation in which I had taken part), so completely +adopted in your Lordship's book: but it was with pain I broke with +that great man for ever in that cause--and I assure you, it is not +without pain that I differ with your Lordship on the same principles. +But it is of no concern. I am far below the region of those great and +tempestuous passions. I feel nothing of the intemperance of mind. It +is rather sorrow and dejection than anger. + +Once more my best thanks for your very polite attention, and do me the +favour to believe me with the most perfect sentiments of respect +and regard, my dear Lord, Your Lordship's most obedient and humble +servant. + + + +To MARY LEADBEATER + +_His last letter[1]_ + + +Bath, 23 _May_, 1797. + +My dear Mrs. Leadbeater, + +I feel as I ought to do your constant hereditary kindness to me and +mine. What you have heard of my illness is far from exaggerated. I am, +thank God, alive, and that is all. Hastening to my dissolution, I have +to bless Providence that I do not suffer a great deal of pain.... Mrs. +Burke has a tolerable share of health--in every respect except much +use of her limbs. She remembers your mother's most good-natured +attentions, as I am sure I do with much gratitude. I have ever been +an admirer of your talents and virtues, and shall ever wish +most cordially for everything which can tend to your credit and +satisfaction. I therefore congratulate you very heartily on the +birth of your son; and pray remember me to the representative of your +family, who I hope still keeps up the school of which I have so tender +a remembrance; though after so long an absence, and so many unpleasant +events of every kind that have distracted my thoughts, I hardly dare +ask for any one, not knowing whether they are living or dead, lest I +should be the means of awakening unpleasant recollections. Believe me +to be, with the most respectful and affectionate regards, my dear Mrs. +Leadbeater, + +Your faithful friend, and very humble servant. + +PS. Pray remember me to Mr. Leadbeater. I have been at Bath these four +months to no purpose, and am therefore to be removed to my own +house at Beaconsfield to-morrow, to be nearer to a habitation more +permanent, humbly and fearfully hoping that my better part may find a +better mansion. + +[Footnote 1: Cp. p. 281.] + + + + +EDWARD GIBBON + +1737-1794 + + + +To MRS. PORTEN + +_His daily life_ + + +Lausanne, 27 _Dec._ 1783. + +... In speaking of the happiness which I enjoy, you will agree with me +in giving the preference to a sincere and sensible friend; and though +you cannot discern the full extent of his merit, you will easily +believe that Deyverdun is the man. Perhaps two persons so perfectly +fitted to live together were never formed by nature and education. +We have both read and seen a great variety of objects; the lights +and shades of our different characters are happily blended, and +a friendship of thirty years has taught us to enjoy our mutual +advantages, and to support our unavoidable imperfections. In love and +marriage, some harsh sounds will sometimes interrupt the harmony, +and in the course of time, like our neighbours, we must expect some +disagreeable moments; but confidence and freedom are the two pillars +of our union, and I am much mistaken, if the building be not solid and +comfortable.... + +In this season I rise (not at four in the morning) but a little before +eight; at nine I am called from my study to breakfast, which I always +perform alone, in the English style; and, with the aid of Caplin, +I perceive no difference between Lausanne and Bentinck Street. Our +mornings are usually passed in separate studies; we never approach +each other's door without a previous message, or thrice knocking; and +my apartment is already sacred and formidable to strangers. I dress at +half-past one, and at two (an early hour, to which I am not perfectly +reconciled) we sit down to dinner.... After dinner, and the departure +of our company, one, two, or three friends, we read together some +amusing book, or play at chess, or retire to our rooms, or make +visits, or go to the coffee-house. Between six and seven the +assemblies begin, and I am oppressed only with their number and +variety. Whist, at shillings or half-crowns, is the game I generally +play, and I play three rubbers with pleasure. Between nine and ten we +withdraw to our bread and cheese, and friendly converse, which sends +us to bed at eleven; but these sober hours are too often interrupted +by private or numerous suppers, which I have not the courage to +resist, though I practise a laudable abstinence at the best furnished +tables. Such is the skeleton of my life.... + + + +TO LORD SHEFFIELD + +_A great work_ + + +Lausanne, 20 _Jan._ 1787. + +... As long as I do not inform you of my death, you have good grounds +to believe me alive and well. You have a general, and will soon have a +more particular idea of my system and arrangement here. One day glides +away after another in tranquil uniformity. Every object must have +sides and moments less luminous than others; but, upon the whole, the +life and the place which I have chosen are most happily adapted to my +character and circumstances: and I can now repeat, at the end of three +years, what I soon and sincerely affirmed, that never in a single +instant have I repented of my scheme of retirement to Lausanne.... And +though I truly rejoice in my approaching visit to England, Mr. Pitt, +were he your friend and mine, would not find it an easy task to +prevent my return.... + +I am building a great book, which, besides the three stories already +exposed to the public eye, will have three stories more before we +reach the roof and battlements. You too have built or altered a great +Gothic castle with baronial battlements. Did you finish it within the +time you intended? As that time drew near, did you not find a thousand +nameless and unexpected works that must be performed; each of them +calling for a portion of time and labour? and had you not despised, +nobly despised, the minute diligence of finishing, fitting up, and +furnishing the apartments, you would have discovered a new train of +indispensable business. Such, at least, has been my case. A long while +ago when I contemplated the distant prospect of my work, I gave you +and myself some hopes of landing in England last autumn; but, alas! +when autumn grew near, hills began to rise on hills, Alps on Alps, and +I found my journey far more tedious and toilsome than I had imagined. +When I look back on the length of the undertaking, and the variety +of materials, I cannot accuse, or suffer myself to be accused of +idleness; yet it appeared that unless I doubled my diligence, another +year, and perhaps more, would elapse before I could embark with my +complete manuscript. Under these circumstances I took, and am still +executing, a bold and meritorious resolution. The mornings in winter, +and in a country of early dinners, are very concise; to them, my usual +period of study, I now frequently add the evenings, renounce cards +and society, refuse the most agreeable evenings, or perhaps make my +appearance at a late supper. By this extraordinary industry, which I +never practised before, and to which I hope never to be again reduced, +I see the last part of my _History_ growing apace under my hands; all +my materials are collected and arranged; I can exactly compute, by +the square foot, or the square page, all that remains to be done; and +after concluding text and notes, after a general review of my time +and my ground, I now can decisively ascertain the final period of the +_Decline and Fall_, and can boldly promise that I will dine with you +at Sheffield Place in the month of August, or perhaps of July, in the +present year; within less than a twelvemonth of the term which I had +loosely and originally fixed; and perhaps it would not be easy to +find a work of that size and importance in which the workman has +so tolerably kept his word with himself and the public. But in this +situation, oppressed with this particular object, and stealing every +hour from my amusement, to the fatigue of the pen, and the eyes, you +will conceive, or you might conceive, how little stomach I have for +the epistolary style; and that instead of idle, though friendly, +correspondence, I think it far more agreeable to employ my time in +the effectual measures that may hasten and exhilarate our personal +interview.... + + + + +FRANCES D'ARBLAY + +1752-1840 + + + +TO SUSAN BURNEY + +_An excited Unknown_ + + +Chessington, 5 _July_, 1778. + +MY DEAREST SUSY, + +Don't you think there must be some wager depending among the little +curled imps who hover over us mortals, of how much flummery goes to +turn the head of an authoress? Your last communication very near did +my business; for, meeting Mr. Crisp ere I had composed myself, I 'tipt +him such a touch of the heroics' as he has not seen since the time +when I was so much celebrated for dancing _Nancy Dawson_. I absolutely +longed to treat him with one of Captain Mirvan's frolics, and to fling +his wig out of the window. I restrained myself, however, from the +apprehension that they would imagine I had a universal spite to that +harmless piece of goods, which I have already been known to treat with +no little indignity. He would fain have discovered the reason of my +skittishness; but as I could not tell it him, I was obliged to assure +him it would be lost time to inquire further into my flights, since +'true no meaning puzzles more than wit', and therefore, begging the +favour of him to 'set me down an _ass_', I suddenly retreated. + +My dear, dear Dr. Johnson! what a charming man you are! Mrs. +Cholmondeley, too, I am not merely prepared but determined to admire; +for really she has shown so much penetration and sound sense of late, +that I think she will bring about a union between Wit and Judgement, +though their separation has been so long, and though their meetings +have been so few. + +But, Mrs. Thrale! she--she is the goddess of my idolatry! What an +_eloge_ is hers!--an _eloge_ that not only delights at first, but +proves more and more flattering every time it is considered! + +I often think, when I am counting my laurels, what a pity it would +have been had I popped off in my last illness, without knowing what a +person of consequence I was!--and I sometimes think that, were I now +to have a relapse, I could never go off with so much _eclat_! I am +now at the summit of a high hill; my prospects on one side are bright, +glowing, and invitingly beautiful; but when I turn round, I perceive, +on the other side, sundry caverns, gulfs, pits, and precipices, that, +to look at, make my head giddy and my heart sick. I see about me, +indeed, many hills of far greater height and sublimity; but I have +not the strength to attempt climbing them; if I move, it must +be downwards. I have already, I fear, reached the pinnacle of my +abilities, and therefore to stand still will be my best policy. + +But there is nothing under heaven so difficult to do. Creatures who +are formed for motion _must_ move, however great their inducements to +forbear. The wisest course I could take, would be to bid an eternal +adieu to writing; then would the cry be, 'Tis pity she does not go +on!--she might do something better by and by', &c, &c. _Evelina_, as +a first and a youthful publication, has been received with the utmost +favour and lenity; but would a future attempt be treated with the same +mercy?--no, my dear Susy, quite the contrary; there would not, indeed, +be the same plea to save it; it would no longer be a young lady's +_first_ appearance in public; those who have met with less indulgence +would all peck at any second work; and even those who most encouraged +the first offspring might prove enemies to the second, by receiving +it with expectations which it could not answer: and so, between either +the friends or the foes of the eldest, the second would stand an +equally bad chance, and a million of flaws which were overlooked in +the former would be ridiculed as villainous and intolerable blunders +in the latter. + +But, though my eyes ache as I strain them to look forward, the +temptations before me are almost irresistible; and what you have +transcribed from Mrs. Thrale may, perhaps, prove my destruction. + +So you wish to have some of the sayings of the folks here about _the +book_? I am sure I owe you all the communications I can possibly give +you; but I have nothing new to offer, for the same strain prevails +here as in town; and no one will be so obliging to me as to put in a +little abuse: so that I fear you will be satiated with the sameness +of people's remarks. Yet, what can I do? if they _will_ be so +disagreeable and tiresome as to be all of one mind, how is it to +be helped? I can only advise you to follow my example, which is, to +accommodate my philosophy to their insipidity; and in this I have so +wonderfully succeeded, that I hear their commendations not merely with +patience but even with a degree of pleasure! Such, my dear Susy, is +the effect of true philosophy. + +You desire Kitty Cooke's remarks in particular. I have none to give +you, for none can I get. To the serious part she indeed listens, and +seems to think it may possibly be very fine; but she is quite lost +when the Branghtons and Madame Duval are mentioned;--she hears their +speeches very composedly, and as words of course; but when she hears +them followed by loud bursts of laughter from Hetty, Mr. Crisp, Mrs. +Gast, and Mr. Burney, she stares with the gravest amazement, and looks +so aghast, and so distressed to know where the joke can be, that I +never dare trust myself to look at her for more than an instant. Were +she to speak her thoughts, I am sure she would ask why such common +things, that pass every day, should be printed? And all the derision +with which the party in general treat the Branghtons, I can see she +feels herself, with a plentiful addition of astonishment, for the +_author_! + +By the way, not a human being here has the most remote suspicion of +the fact; I could not be more secure, were I literally unknown to +them. And there is no end to the ridiculous speeches perpetually made +to me, by all of them in turn, though quite by accident. + +'An't you sorry this sweet book is done?' said Mrs. Gast. + +A silly little laugh was the answer. + +'Ah,' said Patty, ''tis the sweetest book!--don't you think so, Miss +Burney?' + +N.B.--Answer as above. + +'Pray, Miss Fan,' says Mrs. Hamilton, 'who wrote it?' + +'Really I never heard.' + +'Cute enough that, Miss Sukey!' + +I desired Hetty to miss the verses; for I can't sit them: and I +have been obliged to hide the first volume ever since, for fear of +a discovery. But I don't know how it will end; for Mrs. Gast has +declared she shall buy it, to take it to Burford with her. + + + +TO SAMUEL CRISP + +_Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson_ + + +Streatham, _March_ 1779. + +The kindness and honours I meet with from this charming family are +greater than I can mention; sweet Mrs. Thrale hardly suffers me to +leave her a moment; and Dr. Johnson is another Daddy Crisp to me, for +he has a partial goodness to your Fannikin, that has made him sink the +comparative shortness of our acquaintance, and treat and think of me +as one who had long laid claim to him. + +If you knew these two you would love them, or I don't know you so well +as I think I do. Dr. Johnson has more fun, and comical humour, and +love of nonsense about him, than almost anybody I ever saw: I mean +when with those he likes; for otherwise, he can be as severe and +as bitter as report relates him. Mrs. Thrale has all that gaiety of +disposition and lightness of heart, which commonly belong to fifteen. +We are, therefore, merry enough, and I am frequently seized with the +same tittering and ridiculous fits as those with which I have so often +amazed and amused poor Kitty Cooke. + +One thing let me not omit of this charming woman, which I believe will +weigh with you in her favour; her political doctrine is so exactly +like yours, that it is never started but I exclaim, 'Dear ma'am, if my +Daddy Crisp was here, I believe between you, you would croak me mad!' +And this sympathy of horrible foresight not a little contributes to +incline her to believe the other parts of speech with which I regale +her concerning you. She wishes very much to know you, and I am sure +you would hit it off comfortably; but I told her what a vile taste you +had for shunning all new acquaintance, and shirking almost all your +old ones. That I may never be among the latter, heartily hopes my dear +daddy's ever affectionate and obliged, F.B. + + + +TO MRS. LOCK + +_A royal commission_ + + +Kew, _April_ 1789. + +MY DEAREST FRIENDS, + +I have her Majesty's commands to inquire--whether you have any of a +certain breed of poultry? + +N.B.--_What_ breed I do not remember. + +And to say she has just received a small group of the same herself. + +N.B.--The quantity I have forgotten. + +And to add, she is assured they are something very rare and scarce, +and extraordinary and curious. + +N.B.--By _whom_ she was assured I have not heard. + +And to subjoin, that you must send word if you have any of the same +sort. + +N.B.--How you are to find that out, I cannot tell. + +And to mention, as a corollary, that, if you have none of them, and +should like to have some, she has a cock and a hen she can spare, and +will appropriate them to Mr. Lock and my dearest Fredy. + +This conclusive stroke so pleased and exhilarated me, that forthwith +I said you would both be enchanted, and so forgot all the preceding +particulars. + +And I said, moreover, that I knew you would rear them, and cheer them, +and fondle them like your children. + +So now--pray write a very _fair answer_ fairly, in fair hand, and to +fair purpose. + +My Susanna is just now come--so all is fair with my dearest Mr. and +Mrs. Lock's F.B. + + + + +GEORGE CRABBE + +1754-1832 + + + +TO MARY LEADBEATER[1] + +_The only survivors_ + + +Trowbridge, 1st of 12th month, 1816. + +MARY LEADBEATER! + +Yes, indeed, I do well remember you! Not Leadbeater then, but a pretty +demure lass, standing a timid auditor while her own verses were read +by a kind friend, but a keen judge. And I have in my memory your +father's person and countenance, and you may be sure that my vanity +retained the compliment which he paid me in the moment when he +permitted his judgement to slip behind his good humour and desire of +giving pleasure. Yes, I remember all who were present, and, of +all, are not you and I the only survivors? It was the day--was it +not?--when I introduced my wife to my friend. And now both are gone! +and your father, and Richard Burke, who was present (yet again I must +ask,--was he not?)--and Mrs. Burke! All departed, and so, by and by, +they will speak of us. But, in the meantime, it was good of you to +write, oh, very, very good! + +But are you not your father's own daughter? Do you not flatter after +his manner? How do you know the mischief that you may do in the mind +of a vain man, who is but too susceptible of praise, even while he is +conscious of so much to be placed against it? I am glad that you like +my verses: it would have mortified me much if you had not, for you can +judge as well as write.... Yours are really very admirable things; and +the morality is as pure as the literary merit is conspicuous. I am not +sure that I have read all that you have given us; but what I have read +has really that rare and almost undefinable quality, genius; that +is to say, it seizes on the mind and commands attention, and on the +heart, and compels its feelings. + +How could you imagine that I could be otherwise than +pleased--delighted rather--with your letter? And let me not omit the +fact that I reply the instant I am at liberty, for I was enrobing +myself for church. You are a child of simplicity, I know, and do not +love robing; but you are a pupil of liberality, and look upon such +things with a large mind, smiling in charity. Well! I was putting on +the great black gown when my servant--(you see I can be pompous, to +write of gowns and servants with such familiarity)--when he brought me +a letter first directed, the words yet legible, to 'George Crabbe, +at Belvoir Castle', and then by Lord Mendip to the 'Reverend' at +Trowbridge; and at Trowbridge I hope again to receive these welcome +evidences of your remembrance, directed in all their simplicity, and +written, I trust, in all sincerity.... + +There was a Suffolk family of Alexanders, one of whom you probably +mean; and as he knew very little of me, I see no reason why he should +not give me a good character ... If it means, as it generally does, +that I paid my debts, and was guilty of no glaring world-defying +immorality--why yes!--I was so far a good character.... + +But your motive for writing to me was your desire of knowing whether +my men and women were really existing creatures, or beings of my own +imagination? Nay, Mary Leadbeater, yours was a better motive; you +thought that you should give pleasure by writing, and--yet you will +think me very vain--you felt some pleasure yourself in renewing the +acquaintance that commenced under such auspices! Am I not right? +My heart tells me that I am, and hopes that you will confirm it. +Be assured that I feel a very cordial esteem for the friend of my +friend,--the virtuous, the worthy character whom I am addressing. + +Yes, I will tell you readily about my creatures, whom I endeavoured to +paint as nearly as I could, and dared; for in some cases I dared not. +This you will readily admit; besides, charity bade me be cautious. +Thus far you are correct; there is not one of whom I had not in my +mind the original; but I was obliged in some cases to take them from +their real situations, in one or two instances to change even the sex, +and in many the circumstances. The nearest to real life was the proud +ostentatious man in _The Borough_, who disguises an ordinary mind by +doing great things; but the others approach to reality at greater or +less distances. Indeed, I do not know that I could paint merely +from my own fancy, and there is no cause why we should. Is there not +diversity sufficient in society? And who can go, even but a little, +into the assemblies of our fellow-wanderers from the way of perfect +rectitude, and not find characters so varied and so pointed that he +need not call upon his imagination? + +Will _you_ not write again? 'Write _to_ thee, or _for_ the public', +wilt thou not ask? _To_ me and _for_ as many as love and can discern +the union of strength and simplicity, purity and good sense. _Our_ +feeling and _our_ hearts is the language you can adopt. Alas, _I_ +cannot with propriety use it--_our_ I too could once say; but I am +alone now; and since my removing into a busy town among the multitude, +the loneliness is but more apparent and more melancholy. But this +is only at certain times; and then I have, though at considerable +distances, six female friends, unknown to each other, but all dear, +very dear, to me. With men I do not much associate; not as deserting, +and much less disliking, the male part of society, but as being unfit +for it; not hardy nor grave, not knowing enough, nor sufficiently +acquainted with the every-day concerns of men. But my beloved +creatures have minds with which I can better assimilate ... Think of +you I must; and of me, I must entreat that you would not be unmindful. + +[Footnote 1: Cp. letter, p. 283.] + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Comparisons_ + + +Trowbridge, 7 _Sept._ 1818. + +A description of your village society would be very gratifying to +me--how the manners differ from those in larger societies, or in +those under different circumstances. I have observed an extraordinary +difference in village manners in England, especially between those +places otherwise nearly alike, when there was and when there was not +a leading man, or a squire's family, or a manufactory near, or a +populous, vitiated town, all these, and many other circumstances have +great influence. _Your_ quiet village, with such influencing minds, +I am disposed to think highly of. No one, perhaps, very rich--none +miserably poor. No girls, from six years to sixteen, sent to a +factory, where men, women, and children of all ages are continually +with them breathing contagion. Not all, however: we are not so +evil--there is a resisting power, and it is strong; but the thing +itself, the congregation of so many minds, and the intercourse it +occasions, will have its powerful and visible effect. But these you +have not; yet, as you mention your schools of both kinds, you must +be more populous and perhaps not so happy as I was giving myself to +believe.... + +The world has not spoiled you, Mary, I do believe: now it has me. I +have been absorbed in its mighty vortex, and gone into the midst of +its greatness, and joined in its festivities and frivolities, and been +intimate with its children. You may like me very well, my kind friend, +while the purifying water, and your more effectual imagination, is +between us; but come you to England, or let me be in Ireland, and +place us where mind becomes acquainted with mind--and then! Ah, Mary +Leadbeater! you would have done with your friendship with me! Child of +simplicity and virtue, how can you let yourself be so deceived? Am +I not a great fat rector, living upon a mighty income, while my poor +curate starves with six hungry children upon the scraps that fall from +the luxurious table? Do I not visit that horrible London, and enter +into its abominable dissipations? Am not I this day going to dine on +venison and drink claret? Have I not been at election dinners, and +joined the Babel-confusion of a town hall? Child of simplicity! am I +fit to be a friend to you, and to the peaceful, mild, pure, and gentle +people about you? One thing is true--I wish I had the qualification. +But I am of the world, Mary.... + +I return all your good wishes, think of you, and with much regard, +more than, indeed, belongs to _a man of the world_! Still, let me +be permitted to address thee.--O my dear Mrs. Leadbeater, this is +so humble that I am afraid it is vain. Well! write soon, then, and +believe me to be + +Most sincerely and affectionately yours. + + + + +WILLIAM BLAKE + +1757-1827 + + + +TO JOHN FLAXMAN + +_Friends 'from eternity'_ + + +Felpham, 21 _Sept._ 1800. + +Sunday morning. + +DEAR SCULPTOR OF ETERNITY, + +We are safe arrived at our cottage, which is more beautiful than I +thought it, and more convenient. It is a perfect model for cottages, +and I think for palaces of magnificence, only enlarging not altering +its proportions, and adding ornaments and not principles. Nothing +can be more grand than its simplicity and usefulness. Simple without +intricacy, it seems to be the spontaneous expression of humanity, +congenial to the wants of man. No other formed house can ever please +me so well, nor shall I ever be persuaded, I believe, that it can be +improved either in beauty or use. + +Mr. Hayley received us with his usual brotherly affection. I have +begun to work. Felpham is a sweet place for study, because it is +more spiritual than London. Heaven opens here on all sides her golden +gates: her windows are not obstructed by vapours; voices of celestial +inhabitants are more distinctly heard, and their forms more distinctly +seen; and my cottage is also a shadow of their houses. My wife and +sister are both well, courting Neptune for an embrace. + +Our journey was very pleasant; and though we had a great deal of +luggage, no grumbling. All was cheerfulness and good humour on the +road, and yet we could not arrive at our cottage before half-past +eleven at night, owing to the necessary shifting of our luggage from +one chaise to another; for we had seven different chaises and as many +different drivers. We set out between six and seven in the morning of +Thursday, with sixteen heavy boxes and portfolios full of prints. + +And now begins a new life, because another covering of earth is +shaken off. I am more famed in heaven for my works than I could well +conceive. In my brain are studies and chambers filled with books and +pictures of old, which I wrote and painted in ages of eternity +before my mortal life; and those works are the delight and study of +archangels. Why then should I be anxious about the riches or fame of +mortality? The Lord our Father will do for us and with us according to +His divine will, for our good. + +You, O dear Flaxman! are a sublime archangel,--my friend and companion +from eternity. In the divine bosom is our dwelling-place. I look back +into the regions of reminiscence, and behold our ancient days before +this earth appeared in its vegetated mortality to my mortal vegetated +eyes. I see our houses of eternity which can never be separated, +though our mortal vehicles should stand at the remotest corners of +heaven from each other. + +Farewell, my best friend! Remember me and my wife in love and +friendship to our dear Mrs. Flaxman, whom we ardently desire to +entertain beneath our thatched roof of rusted gold. + + + +TO THOMAS BUTTS + +_Trouble in the path_ + + +Felpham, 10 _Jan._ 1802. + +Dear Sir, + +Your very kind and affectionate letter, and the many kind things you +have said in it, called upon me for an immediate answer. But it found +my wife and myself so ill, and my wife so very ill, that till now I +have not been able to do this duty. The ague and rheumatism have been +almost her constant enemies, which she has combated in vain almost +ever since we have been here, and her sickness is always my sorrow, +of course. But what you tell me about your sight afflicted me not a +little, and that about your health, in another part of your letter, +makes me entreat you to take due care of both. It is a part of our +duty to God and man to take due care of His gifts; and though we ought +not to think _more_ highly of ourselves, yet we ought to think _as_ +highly of ourselves as immortals ought to think. + +When I came down here, I was more sanguine than I am at present; +but it was because I was ignorant of many things which have since +occurred, and chiefly the unhealthiness of the place. Yet I do not +repent of coming on a thousand accounts; and Mr. Hayley, I doubt not, +will do ultimately all that both he and I wish--that is, to lift me +out of difficulty. But this is no easy matter to a man who, having +spiritual enemies of such formidable magnitude, cannot expect to want +natural hidden ones. + +Your approbation of my pictures is a multitude to me, and I doubt not +that all your kind wishes in my behalf shall in due time be fulfilled. +Your kind offer of pecuniary assistance I can only thank you for at +present, because I have enough to serve my present purpose here. Our +expenses are small, and our income, from our incessant labour, fully +adequate to these at present. I am now engaged in engraving six small +plates for a new edition of Mr. Hayley's _Triumphs of Temper_, from +drawings by Maria Flaxman, sister to my friend the sculptor. And it +seems that other things will follow in course, if I do but copy these +well. But patience! If great things do not turn out, it is because +such things depend on the spiritual and not on the natural world; and +if it was fit for me, I doubt not that I should be employed in greater +things; and when it is proper, my talents shall be properly exercised +in public, as I hope they are now in private. For till then I leave no +stone unturned, and no path unexplored that leads to improvement in +my beloved arts. One thing of real consequence I have accomplished by +coming into the country, which is to me consolation enough: namely, +I have re-collected all my scattered thoughts on art, and resumed +my primitive and original ways of execution in both painting and +engraving, which in the confusion of London I had very much lost and +obliterated from my mind. But whatever becomes of my labours, I would +rather that they should be preserved in your greenhouse (not, as you +mistakenly call it, dunghill) than in the cold gallery of fashion. The +sun may yet shine, and then they will be brought into open air. + +But you have so generously and openly desired that I will divide my +griefs with you that I cannot hide what it has now become my duty to +explain. My unhappiness has arisen from a source which, if explored +too narrowly, might hurt my pecuniary circumstances; as my dependence +is on engraving at present, and particularly on the engravings I have +in hand for Mr. Hayley, and I find on all hands great objections to +my doing anything but the mere drudgery of business, and intimations +that, if I do not confine myself to this, I shall not live. This has +always pursued me. You will understand by this the source of all my +uneasiness. This from Johnson and Fuseli brought me down here, and +this from Mr. Hayley will bring me back again. For that I cannot live +without doing my duty to lay up treasures in heaven is certain and +determined, and to this I have long made up my mind. And why this +should be made an objection to me, while drunkenness, lewdness, +gluttony, and even idleness itself, does not hurt other men, let Satan +himself explain. The thing I have most at heart--more than life, or +all that seems to make life comfortable without--is the interest of +true religion and science. And whenever anything appears to affect +that interest (especially if I myself omit any duty to my station as +a soldier of Christ), it gives me the greatest of torments. I am not +ashamed, afraid, or averse to tell you what ought to be told--that I +am under the direction of messengers from heaven, daily and nightly. +But the nature of such things is not, as some suppose, without trouble +or care. Temptations are on the right hand and on the left. Behind, +the sea of time and space roars and follows swiftly. He who keeps not +right onwards is lost; and if our footsteps slide in clay, how can we +do otherwise than fear and tremble? But I should not have troubled you +with this account of my spiritual state, unless it had been necessary +in explaining the actual cause of my uneasiness, into which you are so +kind as to inquire: for I never obtrude such things on others unless +questioned, and then I never disguise the truth. But if we fear to do +the dictates of our angels, and tremble at the tasks set before us; +if we refuse to do spiritual acts because of natural fears or natural +desires; who can describe the dismal torments of such a state!--I +too well remember the threats I heard!--'If you, who are organized +by Divine Providence for spiritual communion, refuse, and bury +your talent in the earth, even though you should want natural +bread,--sorrow and desperation pursue you through life, and after +death shame and confusion of face to eternity. Every one in eternity +will leave you, aghast at the man who was crowned with glory and +honour by his brethren, and betrayed their cause to their enemies. You +will be called the base Judas who betrayed his friend!'--Such words +would make any stout man tremble, and how then could I be at ease? But +I am now no longer in that state, and now go on again with my task, +fearless though my path is difficult. I have no fear of stumbling +while I keep it. + +My wife desires her kindest love to Mrs. Butts, and I have permitted +her to send it to you also. We often wish that we could unite again +in society, and hope that the time is not distant when we shall do so, +being determined not to remain another winter here, but to return to +London. + + I hear a Voice you cannot hear, that says + I must not stay, + I see a Hand you cannot see, that beckons + me away. + +Naked we came here--naked of natural things--and naked we shall +return: but while clothed with the Divine mercy, we are richly clothed +in spiritual, and suffer all the rest gladly. Pray, give my love to +Mrs. Butts and your family. + +PS. Your obliging proposal of exhibiting my two pictures likewise +calls for my thanks; I will finish the others, and then we shall judge +of the matter with certainty. + + + +To THE SAME + +_The wonderful poem_ + + +(Felpham), 25 _April_, 1803. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +I write in haste, having received a pressing letter from my Brother. +I intended to have sent the Picture of the _Riposo_, which is nearly +finished much to my satisfaction, but not quite. You shall have it +soon. I now send the four numbers for Mr. Birch with best respects to +him. The reason the _Ballads_ have been suspended is the pressure of +other business, but they will go on again soon. + +Accept of my thanks for your kind and heartening letter. You have +faith in the endeavours of me, your weak brother and fellow-disciple; +how great must be your faith in our Divine Master! You are to me +a lesson of humility, while you exalt me by such distinguishing +commendations. I know that you see certain merits in me, which, by +God's grace, shall be made fully apparent and perfect in Eternity. +In the meantime I must not bury the talents in the earth, but do my +endeavour to live to the glory of our Lord and Saviour; and I am +also grateful to the kind hand that endeavours to lift me out of +despondency, even if it lifts me too high. + +And now, my dear Sir, congratulate me on my return to London with the +full approbation of Mr. Hayley and with promise. But alas! now I may +say to you--what perhaps I should not dare to say to anyone else--that +I can alone carry on my visionary studies in London unannoyed, and +that I may converse with my friends in Eternity, see visions, dream +dreams, and prophesy and speak parables, unobserved, and at liberty +from the doubts of other mortals: perhaps doubts proceeding from +kindness; but doubts are always pernicious, especially when we doubt +our friends. Christ is very decided on this point: 'He who is not with +me is against me.' There is no medium or middle state; and if a man is +the enemy of my spiritual life while he pretends to be the friend of +my corporeal, he is a real enemy; but the man may be the friend of my +spiritual life while he seems the enemy of my corporeal, though not +vice versa. + +What is very pleasant, every one who hears of my going to London again +applauds it as the only course for the interest of all concerned in +my works; observing that I ought not to be away from the opportunities +London affords of seeing fine pictures, and the various improvements +in works of art going on in London. + +But none can know the spiritual acts of my three years' slumber on the +banks of Ocean, unless he has seen them in the spirit, or unless he +should read my long Poem descriptive of those acts; for I have in +these years composed an immense number of verses on one grand theme, +similar to Homer's _Iliad_ or Milton's _Paradise Lost_; the persons +and machinery entirely new to the inhabitants of earth (some of the +persons excepted). I have written this Poem from immediate dictation, +twelve or sometimes twenty or thirty lines at a time, without +premeditation, and even against my will. The time it has taken in +writing was thus rendered nonexistent, and an immense Poem exists +which seems to be the labour of a long life, all produced without +labour or study. I mention this to show you what I think the grand +reason of my being brought down here. + +I have a thousand and ten thousand things to say to you. My heart +is full of futurity. I perceive that the sore travail which has been +given me these three years leads to glory and honour. I rejoice and +tremble: 'I am fearfully and wonderfully made.' I had been reading the +CXXXIX Psalm a little before your letter arrived. I take your advice. +I see the face of my Heavenly Father; He lays His hand upon my head, +and gives a blessing to all my work. Why should I be troubled? Why +should my heart and flesh cry out? I will go on in the strength of the +Lord; through Hell will I sing forth His praises: that the dragons of +the deep may praise Him, and that those who dwell in darkness, and in +the sea coasts may be gathered into His Kingdom. Excuse my perhaps too +great enthusiasm. Please to accept of and give our loves to Mrs. Butts +and your amiable family, and believe me ever yours affectionately. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The poet and William Hayley_ + + +Felpham, 6 _July_, 1803. + +... We look forward every day with pleasure toward our meeting again +in London with those whom we have learned to value by absence no less +perhaps than we did by presence; for recollection often surpasses +everything. Indeed, the prospect of returning to our friends is +supremely delightful. Then, I am determined that Mrs. Butts shall have +a good likeness of you, if I have hands and eyes left; for I am become +a likeness-taker, and succeed admirably well. But this is not to be +achieved without the original sitting before you for every touch, all +likenesses from memory being necessarily very, very defective; but +Nature and Fancy are two things, and can never be joined, neither +ought any one to attempt it, for it is idolatry, and destroys the +Soul. + +I ought to tell you that Mr. H. is quite agreeable to our return, +and that there is all the appearance in the world of our being fully +employed in engraving for his projected works, particularly Cowper's +_Milton_--a work now on foot by subscription, and I understand that +the subscription goes on briskly. This work is to be a very elegant +one, and to consist of all Milton's Poems with Cowper's Notes, and +translations by Cowper from Milton's Latin and Italian poems. These +works will be ornamented with engravings from designs by Romney, +Flaxman, and your humble servant, and to be engraved also by +the last-mentioned. The profits of the work are intended to be +appropriated to erect a monument to the memory of Cowper in St. Paul's +or Westminster Abbey. Such is the project; and Mr. Addington and Mr. +Pitt are both among the subscribers, which are already numerous and of +the first rank. The price of the work is six guineas. Thus I hope that +all our three years' trouble ends in good-luck at last, and shall be +forgot by my affections, and only remembered by my understanding, to +be a memento in time to come, and to speak to future generations by a +sublime allegory, which is now perfectly completed into a grand Poem. +I may praise it, since I dare not pretend to be any other than the +secretary; the authors are in Eternity. I consider it as the grandest +Poem that this world contains. Allegory addressed to the +intellectual powers, while it is altogether hidden from the corporeal +understanding, is my definition of the most sublime Poetry. It is +also somewhat in the same manner defined by Plato. This Poem shall, +by Divine assistance, be progressively printed and ornamented with +prints, and given to the public. But of this work I take care to say +little to Mr. H., since he is as much averse to my Poetry as he is to +a chapter in the Bible. He knows that I have writ it, for I have shown +it to him, and he has read part by his own desire, and has looked with +sufficient contempt to enhance my opinion of it. But I do not wish to +imitate by seeming too obstinate in poetic pursuits. But if all the +world should set their faces against this, I have orders to set my +face like a flint (Ezek. iii. 8) against their faces, and my forehead +against their foreheads. + +As to Mr. H., I feel myself at liberty to say as follows upon this +ticklish subject. I regard fashion in Poetry as little as I do in +Painting: so, if both Poets and Painters should alternately dislike +(but I know the majority of them will not), I am not to regard it +at all. But Mr. H. approves of my Designs as little as he does of my +Poems, and I have been forced to insist on his leaving me, in both, +to my own self-will; for I am determined to be no longer pestered with +his genteel ignorance and polite disapprobation. I know myself both +Poet and Painter, and it is not his affected contempt that can move to +anything but a more assiduous pursuit of both arts. Indeed, by my late +firmness, I have brought down his affected loftiness, and he begins +to think I have some genius: as if genius and assurance were the same +thing! But his imbecile attempts to depress me only deserve laughter. +I say thus much to you, knowing that you will not make a bad use of +it. But it is a fact too true that, if I had only depended on mortal +things, both myself and my wife must have been lost. I shall leave +every one in this country astonished at my patience and forbearance +of injuries upon injuries; and I do assure you that, if I could have +returned to London a month after my arrival here, I should have done +so. But I was commanded by my spiritual friends to bear all and be +silent, and to go through all without murmuring, and, in fine, to hope +till my three years should be almost accomplished; at which time I was +set at liberty to remonstrate against former conduct, and to demand +justice and truth; which I have done in so effectual a manner that my +antagonist is silenced completely, and I have compelled what should +have been of freedom--my just right as an artist and as a man. And +if any attempt should be made to refuse me this, I am inflexible, and +will relinquish any engagement of designing at all, unless altogether +left to my own judgement, as you, my dear friend, have always left me; +for which I shall never cease to honour and respect you. + +When we meet, I will perfectly describe to you my conduct and the +conduct of others towards me, and you will see that I have laboured +hard indeed, and have been borne on angels' wings. Till we meet I beg +of God our Saviour to be with you and me, and yours and mine. Pray +give my and my wife's love to Mrs. Butts and family, and believe me to +remain + +Yours in truth and sincerity. + + + + +MARY LEADBEATER + +1758-1826 + + + +TO EDMUND BURKE + +_Reply to his last letter_ + + +28 _May_, 1797. + +With a heart melted to overflowing, I cannot restrain the attempt to +express my grateful sensations on receiving the greatest, and, alas! +I fear, the last proof of that unvarying friendship with which our +ever-loved, our ever-honoured friend has favoured us! I may transgress +the bounds by intruding at this awful period; but I cannot help it. My +affection and my sorrow will be excused, I believe, for thou hast ever +looked kindly and partially upon me, and so has thy beloved wife, with +whose feelings I sympathize, could that avail. This day's post brought +me thy letter of the 23rd instant, dictated and signed by thee. Such +attention, at such a time, and in such a situation! It was like Edmund +Burke! It was like few others, but it is not bestowed upon hearts who +do not feel it.--I look back on that friendship formed in the precious +days of innocent childhood, between thee and my lamented parent.--I +trace its progress, which is so imprinted on my mind, that I almost +seem to myself to have been a witness to it.--I see it continue +unabated, notwithstanding the different sphere of life in which you +moved, to the period of it;--and may we not hope that there is an +union of souls beyond the grave? The composure and fortitude displayed +in thy letter, is the greatest consolation we could receive with the +tidings it conveyed of thy health. Since thou dost not allow us to +hope for its restoration, we will hope better things than is in the +power of this world to bestow.--My mother appears to decline, and +looks to the end of her race as near. All the other branches of +this family, I believe, are well in health. My brother continues +the school, which, I believe, was never in higher estimation than at +present. My husband regrets very much that he never shared with us +the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with thee. We all unite in +cordial, unaffected love to thee. I thought I would say how we were, +believing thou would be pleased to hear of our welfare, though how +long that may be continued, seems doubtful.--The general fermentation +throughout this nation, forebodes some sudden and dreadful eruption, +and, however obscure or retired our situations may be, there is little +prospect of escaping the calamity. This may cause us to admire, nay, +adore the mercy, as well as wisdom of Him, who gives and takes life, +in removing those so dear to us from the evil to come. My mother +desires thou may accept as much love as she is capable of sending +thee; her heart is full of it towards thee; and she bids me say, she +hopes thou hast lived such a life, that thy end will be crowned with +peace! So be it, with my whole heart! Thy affectionate and obliged +friend. + +Our best wishes, and dear love to thy wife. + +Abraham Shackleton has the melancholy satisfaction of perusing dear +Edmund Burke's account of his poor state of health. He hopes (trusts) +that a quiet resting place is prepared for him. The memory of E. +Burke's philanthropic virtues will out-live the period when his +shining political talents will cease to act. New fashions of political +sentiment will exist; but philanthropy,--_immortale manet!_ + + + +TO GEORGE CRABBE + +_She writes to remind him_ + + +Ballitore, 7th of Eleventh-month, 1816. + +I believe it will surprise George Crabbe to receive a letter from an +entire stranger, whom most probably he does not remember to have ever +seen or heard of, but who cannot forget having met him at the house of +Edmund Burke, Charles Street, James's Square, in the year 1784. I +was brought thither by my father, Richard Shackleton, the friend +from their childhood of Edmund Burke. My dear father told thee that +Goldsmith's would now be the _deserted village_; perhaps thou dost not +remember this compliment, but I remember the ingenuous modesty which +disclaimed it. He admired '_The Village', 'The Library_,' and '_The +Newspaper_' exceedingly, and the delight with which he read them to +his family could not but be acceptable to the author, had he known +the sound judgement and the exquisite taste which that excellent +man possessed. But he saw no more of the productions of the Muse he +admired; whose originality was not the least charm. He is dead--the +friend whom he loved and honoured, and to whose character thou dost so +much justice in the preface to '_The Parish_ _Register_', is also gone +to the house appointed for all living. A splendid constellation of +poets arose in the literary horizon; I looked around for Crabbe. Why +does not he, who shines as brightly as any of these, add his lustre? +I had not long thought thus when, in an Edinburgh Review, I met +with reflections similar to my own, which introduced '_The Parish +Register_'. Oh, it was like the voice of a long-lost friend, and glad +was I to hear that voice again in '_The Borough_'!--still more in +'_The Tales_,' which appear to me excelling all that preceded them! +Every work is so much in unison with our own feelings, that a wish for +information concerning them and their author is strongly excited. + +One of our friends, Dykes Alexander, who was in Ballitore in 1810, I +think, said he was personally acquainted with thee, and spoke highly +of thy character. I regretted I had not an opportunity of conversing +with him on this subject, as perhaps he would have been able to decide +arguments which have arisen; namely, whether we owe to truth or to +fiction that 'ever new delight' which thy poetry affords us. The +characters, however singular some of them may be, are never unnatural, +and thy sentiments so true to domestic and social feelings, as well as +to those of a higher nature, have the convincing power of reality +over the mind, and _I_ maintain that all thy pictures _are drawn from +life_. To inquire whether this be the case is the excuse which I make +to myself for writing this letter. I wish the excuse may be accepted +by thee, for I greatly fear I have taken an unwarrantable liberty in +making the inquiry. Though advanced in life, yet from an education of +peculiar simplicity, and from never having been long absent from my +retired native village, I am too little acquainted with decorum. If I +have now transgressed the rules it prescribes, I appeal to the candour +and liberality of thy mind to forgive a fault caused by a strong +enthusiasm. + +PS. Ballitore is the village in which Edmund Burke was educated by +Abraham Shackleton, whose pupil he became in 1741, and from whose +school he entered the college of Dublin in 1744. The school is still +flourishing. + + + + +ROBERT BURNS + +1759-1796 + + + +TO MISS CHALMERS + +_Marriage with Jean_ + + +Ellisland, near Dumfries, 16 _Sept_. 1788. + +Where are you? and how are you? and is Lady M'Kenzie recovering her +health? for I have had but one solitary letter from you. I will not +think you have forgot me, Madam; and for my part-- + + When thee, Jerusalem, I forget, + Skill part from my right hand! + +'My heart is not of that rock, nor my soul careless as that sea.' I +do not make my progress among mankind as a bowl does among its +fellows--rolling through the crowd without bearing away any mark or +impression, except where they hit in hostile collision. + +I am here, driven in with my harvest-folks by bad weather; and as you +and your sister once did me the honour of interesting yourselves +much _a l'egard de moi_, I sit down to beg the continuation of your +goodness.--I can truly say that, all the exterior of life apart, +I never saw two, whose esteem flattered the nobler feelings of my +soul--I will not say, more, but so much as Lady M'Kenzie and Miss +Chalmers. When I think of you--hearts the best, minds the noblest, of +human kind--unfortunate, even in the shades of life--when I think I +have met with you, and have lived more of real life with you in +eight days, than I can do with almost any body I meet with in eight +years--when I think on the improbability of meeting you in this world +again--I could sit down and cry like a child!--If ever you honoured me +with a place in your esteem, I trust I can now plead more desert.--I +am secure against that crushing grip of iron poverty, which, alas! +is less or more fatal to the native worth and purity of, I fear, the +noblest souls; and a late, important step in my life has kindly taken +me out of the way of those ungrateful iniquities, which, however +overlooked in fashionable license, or varnished in fashionable phrase, +are indeed but lighter and deeper shades of VILLAINY. + +Shortly after my last return to Ayrshire, I married 'my Jean'. This +was not in consequence of the attachment of romance perhaps; but I +had a long and much-loved fellow creature's happiness or misery in my +determination, and I durst not trifle with so important a deposit. Nor +have I any cause to repent it. If I have not got polite tattle, modish +manners, and fashionable dress, I am not sickened and disgusted with +the multiform curse of boarding-school affectation; and I have got the +handsomest figure, the sweetest temper, the soundest constitution, and +the kindest heart in the county. Mrs. Burns believes, as firmly as her +creed, that I am _le plus bel esprit, et le plus honnete homme_ in +the universe; although she scarcely ever in her life, except the +Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, and the Psalms of David in +metre, spent five minutes together on either prose or verse. + +I must except also from this last, a certain late publication of Scots +poems, which she has perused very devoutly; and all the ballads in +the country, as she has (O the partial lover! you will cry) the finest +'wood-note wild' I ever heard.--I am the more particular in this +lady's character, as I know she will henceforth have the honour of a +share in your best wishes. She is still at Mauchline, as I am building +my house; for this hovel that I shelter in, while occasionally here, +is pervious to every blast that blows, and every shower that falls; +and I am only preserved from being chilled to death, by being +suffocated with smoke. I do not find my farm that pennyworth I was +taught to expect, but I believe, in time, it may be a saving bargain. +You will be pleased to hear that I have laid aside idle _eclat_, and +bind every day after my reapers. + +To save me from that horrid situation of at any time going down, in +a losing bargain of a farm, to misery, I have taken my excise +instructions, and have my commission in my pocket for any emergency +of fortune. If I could set _all_ before your view, whatever disrespect +you in common with the world, have for this business, I know you would +approve of my idea. + +I will make no apology, dear Madam, for this egotistic detail: I know +you and your sister will be interested in every circumstance of it. +What signify the silly, idle gewgaws of wealth, or the ideal trumpery +of greatness! When fellow partakers of the same nature fear the same +God, have the same benevolence of heart, the same nobleness of soul, +the same detestation at every thing dishonest, and the same scorn at +every thing unworthy--if they are not in the dependance of absolute +beggary, in the name of common sense are they not EQUALS? And if the +bias, the instinctive bias of their souls run the same way, why may +they not be FRIENDS?... + + + +TO MR. ROBERT AINSLIE + +_A gauger_ + + +Ellisland, 1 _Nov_. 1789. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +I had written you long ere now, could I have guessed where to find +you, for I am sure you have more good sense than to waste the precious +days of vacation time in the dirt of business and Edinburgh. Wherever +you are, God bless you, and lead you not into temptation, but deliver +you from evil! + +I do not know if I have informed you that I am now appointed to an +excise division, in the middle of which my house and farm lie. In this +I was extremely lucky. Without ever having been an expectant, as they +call their journeymen excisemen, I was directly planted down to all +intents and purposes an officer of excise; there to flourish and bring +forth fruits--worthy of repentance. + +I know not how the word exciseman, or still more opprobrious, gauger, +will sound in your ears. I too have seen the day when my auditory +nerves would have felt very delicately on this subject; but a wife +and children are things which have a wonderful power in blunting these +kind of sensations. Fifty pounds a year for life, and a provision for +widows and orphans, you will allow is no bad settlement for a _poet_. +For the ignominy of the profession, I have the encouragement which +I once heard a recruiting sergeant give to a numerous, if not a +respectable audience, in the streets of Kilmarnock.--'Gentlemen, +for your further and better encouragement, I can assure you that +our regiment is the most blackguard corps under the crown, and +consequently with us an honest fellow has the surest chance for +preferment.' + +You need not doubt that I find several very unpleasant and +disagreeable circumstances in my business; but I am tired with and +disgusted at the language of complaint against the evils of life. +Human existence in the most favourable situations does not abound with +pleasures, and has its inconveniences and ills; capricious foolish man +mistakes these inconveniences and ills as if they were the peculiar +property of his particular situation; and hence that eternal +fickleness, that love of change, which has ruined, and daily does +ruin many a fine fellow, as well as many a blockhead; and is, almost +without exception, a constant source of disappointment and misery.... + + + +TO FRANCIS GROSE + +_Witch tales_ + + +Dumfries, 1792. + +Among the many witch stories I have heard relating to Alloway Kirk, I +distinctly remember only two or three. + +Upon a stormy night, amid whistling squalls of wind and bitter blasts +of hail--in short, on such a night as the devil would choose to take +the air in--a farmer, or farmer's servant, was plodding and plashing +homeward, with his plough irons on his shoulder, having been getting +some repairs on them at a neighbouring smithy. His way lay by the Kirk +of Alloway, and being rather on the anxious look-out in approaching +a place so well known to be a favourite haunt of the devil and the +devil's friends and emissaries, he was struck aghast by discovering +through the horrors of the storm and stormy night a light, which, on +his nearer approach, plainly showed itself to proceed from the haunted +edifice. Whether he had been fortified from above, on his devout +supplication, as is customary with people when they suspect the +immediate presence of Satan; or whether, according to another custom, +he had got courageously drunk at the smithy, I will not pretend to +determine; but so it was that he ventured to go up to, nay, into, the +very kirk. As luck would have it, his temerity came off unpunished. + +The members of the infernal junto were all out on some midnight +business or other, and he saw nothing but a kind of kettle or +cauldron, depending from the roof over the fire, simmering some heads +of unchristened children, limbs of executed malefactors, &c., for the +business of the night. It was in for a penny, in for a pound, with the +honest ploughman; so, without ceremony, he unhooked the cauldron from +off the fire, and pouring out the damnable ingredients, inverted it +on his head, and carried it fairly home, where it remained long in the +family, a living evidence of the truth of the story. + +Another story, which I can prove to be equally authentic, was as +follows: On a market day, in the town of Ayr, a farmer from Carrick, +and consequently whose way lay by the very gate of Alloway Kirkyard, +in order to cross the river Doon at the old bridge, which is about +two or three hundred yards further on than the said gate, had been +detained by his business, till by the time he reached Alloway it was +the wizard hour between night and morning. + +Though he was terrified with a blaze streaming from the kirk, yet +as it is a well-known fact that to turn back on these occasions is +running by far the greatest risk of mischief, he prudently advanced +on his road. When he had reached the gate of the kirkyard he was +surprised and entertained through the ribs and arches of an old Gothic +window which still faces the highway, to see a dance of witches, +merrily footing it round their old sooty blackguard master, who was +keeping them all alive with the power of his bagpipe. The farmer, +stopping his horse to observe them a little, could plainly descry the +faces of many old women of his acquaintance and neighbourhood. How the +gentleman was dressed tradition does not say, but that the ladies were +all in their smocks; and one of them, happening unluckily to have a +smock which was considerably too short to answer all the purposes of +that piece of dress, our farmer was so tickled that he involuntarily +burst out with a loud laugh: 'Weel luppen, Maggy wi' the short sark!' +and recollecting himself, instantly spurred his horse to the top of +his speed. I need not mention the universally known fact, that no +diabolical power can pursue you beyond the middle of a running stream. +Lucky it was for the poor farmer that the river Doon was so near, for, +notwithstanding the speed of his horse, which was a good one, against +he reached the middle of the arch of the bridge, and consequently the +middle of the stream, the pursuing vengeful hags were so close at his +heels, that one of them actually sprang to seize him; but it was too +late, nothing was on her side of the stream but the horse's tail, +which immediately gave way at her infernal grip, as if blasted by a +stroke of lightning; but the farmer was beyond her reach. However, the +unsightly tailless condition of the vigorous steed was, to the last +hour of the noble creature's life, an awful warning to the Carrick +farmer not to stay too late in Ayr markets. + +The last relation I shall give you, though equally true, is not so +well identified as the two former, with regard to the scene; but as +the best authorities give it for Alloway, I shall relate it. + +On a summer's evening, about the time that nature puts on her sables +to mourn the expiry of the cheerful day, a shepherd boy, belonging +to a farmer in the immediate neighbourhood of Alloway Kirk, had just +folded his charge and was returning home. As he passed the kirk, in +the adjoining field, he fell in with a crew of men and women, who +were busy pulling stems of the plant ragwort. He observed that as each +person pulled a ragwort, he or she got astride of it, and called out, +'Up, horsie', on which the ragwort flew off, like Pegasus, through the +air, with its rider. The foolish boy likewise pulled his ragwort and +cried with the rest, 'Up, horsie', and, strange to tell, away he flew +with the company. The first stage at which the cavalcade stopped was +a merchant's wine-cellar in Bordeaux, where, without saying by your +leave, they quaffed away at the best the cellar could afford, until +the morning, foe to the imps and works of darkness, threatened to +throw light on the matter, and frightened them from their carousals. + +The poor shepherd lad, being equally a stranger to the scene and the +liquor, heedlessly got himself drunk; and when the rest took horse he +fell asleep, and was found so next day by some of the people belonging +to the merchant. Somebody that understood Scotch, asking him what he +was, he said he was such-a-one's herd in Alloway, and by some means or +other getting home again, he lived long to tell the world the wondrous +tale. + + + + +WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + +1770-1850 + + + +TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT + +_A brother's character_ + + +Grasmere, 20 _Feb_. 1805. + +Having spoken of worldly affairs, let me again mention my beloved +brother. It is now just five years since, after a separation of +fourteen years (I may call it a separation, for we only saw him four +or five times, and by glimpses), he came to visit his sister and me +in this cottage, and passed eight blessed months with us. He was then +waiting for the command of the ship to which he was appointed when he +quitted us. As you will have seen, we had little to live upon, and he +as little (Lord Lonsdale being then alive). But he encouraged me to +persist, and to keep my eye steady on its object. He would work for me +(that was his language), for me and his sister; and I was to endeavour +to do something for the world. He went to sea, as commander, with +this hope; his voyage was very unsuccessful, he having lost by it +considerably. When he came home, we chanced to be in London, and saw +him. 'Oh!' said he, 'I have thought of you, and nothing but you; if +ever of myself, and my bad success, it was only on your account.' He +went again to sea a second time, and also was unsuccessful; still +with the same hopes on our account, though then not so necessary, +Lord Lowther having paid the money. Lastly came the lamentable voyage, +which he entered upon, full of expectation, and love to his sister +and myself, and my wife, whom, indeed, he loved with all a brother's +tenderness. This is the end of his part of the agreement--of his +efforts for my welfare! God grant me life and strength to fulfil mine! +I shall never forget him--never lose sight of him: there is a bond +between us yet, the same as if he were living, nay, far more sacred, +calling upon me to do my utmost, as he to the last did his utmost +to live in honour and worthiness. Some of the newspapers carelessly +asserted that he did not wish to survive his ship. This is false. He +was heard by one of the surviving officers giving orders, with all +possible calmness, a very little before the ship went down; and when +he could remain at his post no longer, then, and not till then, +he attempted to save himself. I knew this would be so, but it was +satisfactory for me to have it confirmed by external evidence. Do not +think our grief unreasonable. Of all human beings whom I ever knew, he +was the man of the most rational desires, the most sedate habits, and +the most perfect self-command. He was modest and gentle, and shy even +to disease; but this was wearing off. In everything his judgements +were sound and original; his taste in all the arts, music and poetry +in particular (for these he, of course, had had the best opportunities +of being familiar with), was exquisite; and his eye for the beauties +of nature was as fine and delicate as ever poet or painter was gifted +with, in some discriminations, owing to his education and way of life, +far superior to any person's I ever knew. But, alas! what avails it? +It was the will of God that he should be taken away.... + +I trust in God that I shall not want fortitude; but my loss is great +and irreparable.... + + + +TO WALTER SCOTT + +_Dryden_ + + +Patterdale, 7 _Nov_. 1805. + +MY DEAR SCOTT, + +I was much pleased to hear of your engagement with Dryden: not that he +is, as a poet, any great favourite of mine: I admire his talents and +genius highly, but his is not a poetical genius. The only qualities +I can find in Dryden that are _essentially_ poetical, are a certain +ardour and impetuosity of mind, with an excellent ear. It may seem +strange that I do not add to this, great command of language: _that_ +he certainly has, and of such language too, as it is most desirable +that a poet should possess, or rather that he should not be without. +But it is not language that is, in the highest sense of the word, +poetical, being neither of the imagination nor of the passions; I mean +the amiable, the ennobling, or the intense passions. I do not mean to +say that there is nothing of this in Dryden, but as little, I think, +as is possible, considering how much he has written. You will easily +understand my meaning, when I refer to his versification of _Palamon +and Arcite_, as contrasted with the language of Chaucer. Dryden had +neither a tender heart nor a lofty sense of moral dignity. Whenever +his language is poetically impassioned, it is mostly upon unpleasing +subjects, such as the follies, vices, and crimes of classes of men or +of individuals, That his cannot be the language of imagination, must +have necessarily followed from this,--that there is not a single image +from nature in the whole body of his works; and in his translation +from Virgil, wherever Virgil can be fairly said to have had his _eye_ +upon his object, Dryden always spoils the passage. + +But too much of this; I am glad that you are to be his editor. +His political and satirical pieces may be greatly benefited by +illustration, and even absolutely require it. A correct text is the +first object of an editor, then such notes as explain difficult or +obscure passages; and lastly, which is much less important, notes +pointing out authors to whom the poet has been indebted, not in the +fiddling way of phrase here and phrase there, (which is detestable as +a general practice), but where he has had essential obligations either +as to matter or manner. + +If I can be of any use to you, do not fail to apply to me. One thing +I may take the liberty to suggest, which is, when you come to the +fables, might it not be advisable to print the whole of the Tales of +Boccace in a smaller type in the original language? If this should +look too much like swelling a book, I should certainly make such +extracts as would show where Dryden has most strikingly improved upon, +or fallen below, his original. I think his translations from Boccace +are the best, at least the most poetical, of his poems. It is many +years since I saw Boccace, but I remember that Sigismunda is not +married by him to Guiscard (the names are different in Boccace in both +tales, I believe--certainly in Theodore, &c.). I think Dryden has much +injured the story by the marriage, and degraded Sigismunda's character +by it. He has also, to the best of my remembrance, degraded her still +more, by making her love absolute sensuality and appetite; Dryden had +no other notion of the passion. With all these defects, and they are +very gross ones, it is a noble poem. Guiscard's answer, when first +reproached by Tancred, is noble in Boccace--nothing but this: _Amor +puo molto piu che ne voi ne io possiamo_. This, Dryden has spoiled. He +says first very well, 'the faults of love by love are justified,' and +then come four lines of miserable rant, quite _a la Maximin_. + + + +TO LADY BEAUMONT + +_The destiny of his poems_ + + +Coleorton, 21 _May_, 1807. + +MY DEAR LADY BEAUMONT, + +Though I am to see you so soon, I cannot but write a word or two, to +thank you for the interest you take in my poems, as evinced by your +solicitude about their immediate reception. I write partly to thank +you for this, and to express the pleasure it has given me, and partly +to remove any uneasiness from your mind which the disappointments you +sometimes meet with, in this labour of love, may occasion. I see that +you have many battles to fight for me--more than, in the ardour and +confidence of your pure and elevated mind, you had ever thought of +being summoned to; but be assured that this opposition is nothing more +than what I distinctly foresaw that you and my other friends would +have to encounter. I say this, not to give myself credit for an eye of +prophecy, but to allay any vexatious thoughts on my account which this +opposition may have produced in you. + +It is impossible that any expectations can be lower than mine +concerning the immediate effect of this little work upon what is +called the public. I do not here take into consideration the envy and +malevolence, and all the bad passions which always stand in the way of +a work of any merit from a living poet; but merely think of the pure, +absolute, honest ignorance in which all worldlings of every rank and +situation must be enveloped, with respect to the thoughts, feelings +and images on which the life of my poems depends. The things which I +have taken, whether from within or without, what have they to do with +routs, dinners, morning calls, hurry from door to door, from street to +street, on foot or in carriage; with Mr. Pitt or Mr. Fox, Mr. Paul +or Sir Francis Burdett, the Westminster election or the borough of +Honiton? In a word--for I cannot stop to make my way through the hurry +of images that present themselves to me--what have they to do with the +endless talking about things nobody cares anything for except as far +as their own vanity is concerned, and this with persons they care +nothing for but as their vanity or _selfishness_ is concerned?--what +have they to do (to say all at once) with a life without love? In such +a life there can be no thought; for we have no thought (save thoughts +of pain) but as far as we have love and admiration. + +It is an awful truth, that there neither is, nor can be, any genuine +enjoyment of poetry among nineteen out of twenty of those persons who +live, or wish to live, in the broad light of the world--among +those who either are, or are striving to make themselves, people of +consideration in society. This is a truth, and an awful one, because +to be incapable of a feeling of poetry, in my sense of the word, is to +be without love of human nature and reverence for God. + +Upon this I shall insist elsewhere; at present let me confine myself +to my object; which is to make you, my dear friend, as easy-hearted +as myself with respect to these poems. Trouble not yourself upon their +present reception; of what moment is that compared with what I trust +is their destiny?--to console the afflicted; to add sunshine to +daylight, by making the happy happier; to teach the young and the +gracious of every age to see, to think, and feel, and therefore, to +become more actively and securely virtuous; this is their office, +which I trust they will faithfully perform, long after we (that is, +all that is mortal of us) are mouldered in our graves. I am well aware +how far it would seem to many I overrate my own exertions, when I +speak in this way, in direct connexion with the volume I have just +made public. + +I am not, however, afraid of such censure, insignificant as probably +the majority of those poems would appear to very respectable persons. +I do not mean London wits and witlings, for these have too many foul +passions about them to be respectable, even if they had more intellect +than the benign laws of Providence will allow to such a heartless +existence as theirs is; but grave, kindly-natured, worthy persons, +who would be pleased if they could. I hope that these volumes are +not without some recommendations, even for readers of this class: but +their imagination has slept; and the voice which is the voice of my +poetry, without imagination, cannot be heard.... + +My letter (as this second sheet, which I am obliged to take, +admonishes me) is growing to an enormous length; and yet, saving that +I have expressed my calm confidence that these poems will live, I have +said nothing which has a particular application to the object of it, +which was to remove all disquiet from your mind on account of the +condemnation they may at present incur from that portion of my +contemporaries who are called the public. I am sure, my dear Lady +Beaumont, if you attach any importance to it, it can only be from an +apprehension that it may affect me, upon which I have already set you +at ease; or from a fear that this present blame is ominous of their +future or final destiny. If this be the case, your tenderness for me +betrays you. Be assured that the decision of these persons has nothing +to do with the question; they are altogether incompetent judges. These +people, in the senseless hurry of their idle lives, do not _read_ +books, they merely snatch a glance at them, that they may talk about +them. And even if this were not so, never forget what, I believe, was +observed to you by Coleridge, that every great and original writer, in +proportion as he is great or original, must himself create the taste +by which he is to be relished; he must teach the art by which he is to +be seen; this, in a certain degree, even to all persons, however wise +and pure may be their lives, and however unvitiated their taste. But +for those who dip into books in order to give an opinion of them, or +talk about them to take up an opinion--for this multitude of unhappy +and misguided, and misguiding beings, an entire regeneration must +be produced; and if this be possible, it must be a work of time. To +conclude, my ears are stone-dead to this idle buzz, and my flesh as +insensible as iron to these petty stings; and after what I have said, +I am sure yours will be the same. I doubt not that you will share with +me an invincible confidence that my writings (and among them these +little poems) will co-operate with the benign tendencies in human +nature and society, wherever found; and that they will in their degree +be efficacious in making men wiser, better, and happier. Farewell. +I will not apologize for this letter, though its length demands an +apology.... + + + +TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT + +_The language of poetry_ + + +[c. 1807.] + +MY DEAR SIR GEORGE, + +I am quite delighted to hear of your picture for _Peter Bell_; I was +much pleased with the sketch, and I have no doubt that the picture +will surpass it as far as a picture ought to do. I long much to see +it. I should approve of any engraver approved by you. But remember +that no poem of mine will ever be popular; and I am afraid that the +sale of _Peter_ would not carry the expense of the engraving, and that +the poem, in the estimation of the public, would be a weight upon +the print. I say not this in modest disparagement of the poem, but in +sorrow for the sickly taste of the public in verse. The _people_ would +love the poem of _Peter Bell_, but the _public_ (a very different +being) will never love it. Thanks for dear Lady B.'s transcript from +your friend's letter; it is written with candour, but I must say a +word or two not in praise of it. 'Instances of what I mean,' says your +friend, 'are to be found in a poem on a Daisy' (by the by, it is on +_the_ Daisy, a mighty difference!) 'and on _Daffodils reflected in the +Water_'. Is this accurately transcribed by Lady Beaumont? If it +be, what shall we think of criticism or judgement founded upon, and +exemplified by, a poem which must have been so inattentively perused? +My language is precise; and, therefore, it would be false modesty to +charge myself with blame. + + Beneath the trees, + Ten thousand dancing in the _breeze_. + The _waves beside_ them danced, but they + Outdid the _sparkling waves_ in glee. + +Can expression be more distinct? And let me ask your friend how it +is possible for flowers to be _reflected_ in water when there are +_waves_? They may, indeed, in _still_ water; but the very object of my +poem is the trouble or agitation, both of the flowers and the water. +I must needs respect the understanding of every one honoured by your +friendship; but sincerity compels me to say that my poems must be more +nearly looked at, before they can give rise to any remarks of much +value, even from the strongest minds. With respect to this individual +poem, Lady B. will recollect how Mrs. Fermor expressed herself upon +it. A letter also was sent to me, addressed to a friend of mine, and +by him communicated to me, in which this identical poem was singled +out for fervent approbation. What then shall we say? Why, let the poet +first consult his own heart, as I have done, and leave the rest +to posterity--to, I hope, an improving posterity. The fact is, the +English _public_ are at this moment in the same state of mind with +respect to my poems, if small things may be compared with great, as +the French are in respect to Shakespeare, and not the French alone, +but almost the whole Continent. In short, in your friend's letter, +I am condemned for the very thing for which I ought to have +been praised, viz., that I have not written down to the level of +superficial observers and unthinking minds. Every great poet is +a teacher: I wish either to be considered as a teacher, or as +nothing.... + + + + +SIR WALTER SCOTT + +1771-1832 + + + +TO HIS MOTHER + +_Marriage with Miss Carpenter_ + + +[1797.] + +MY DEAR MOTHER, + +I should very ill deserve the care and affection with which you +have ever regarded me, were I to neglect my duty so far as to omit +consulting my father and you in the most important step which I +can possibly take in life, and upon the success of which my future +happiness must depend. It is with pleasure I think that I can avail +myself of your advice and instructions in an affair of so great +importance as that which I have at present on my hands. You will +probably guess from this preamble, that I am engaged in a matrimonial +plan, which is really the case. Though my acquaintance with the young +lady has not been of long standing, this circumstance is in some +degree counterbalanced by the intimacy in which we have lived, and by +the opportunities which that intimacy has afforded me of remarking her +conduct and sentiments on many different occasions, some of which were +rather of a delicate nature, so that in fact I have seen more of her +during the few weeks we have been together, than I could have done +after a much longer acquaintance, shackled by the common forms of +ordinary life. You will not expect from me a description of her +person,--for which I refer you to my brother, as also for a fuller +account of all the circumstances attending the business than can be +comprised in the compass of a letter. Without flying into raptures, +for I must assure you that my judgement as well as my affections are +consulted upon this occasion; without flying into raptures then, I +may safely assure you, that her temper is sweet and cheerful, her +understanding good, and what I know will give you pleasure, her +principles of religion very serious. I have been very explicit +with her upon the nature of my expectations, and she thinks she can +accommodate herself to the situation which I should wish her to hold +in society as my wife, which, you will easily comprehend, I mean +should neither be extravagant nor degrading. Her fortune, though +partly dependent upon her brother, who is high in office at Madras, is +very considerable--at present L500 a-year. This, however, we must, +in some degree, regard as precarious,--I mean to the full extent; and +indeed when you know her you will not be surprised that I regard +this circumstance chiefly because it removes those prudential +considerations which would otherwise render our union impossible for +the present. Betwixt her income and my own professional exertions, I +have little doubt we will be enabled to hold the rank in society which +my family and situation entitle me to fill. + +My dear Mother, I cannot express to you the anxiety I have that you +will not think me flighty nor inconsiderate in this business. Believe +me, that experience, in one instance--you cannot fail to know to what +I allude--is too recent to permit my being so hasty in my conclusions +as the warmth of my temper might have otherwise prompted. I am also +most anxious that you should be prepared to show her kindness, which I +know the goodness of your own heart will prompt, more especially +when I tell you that she is an orphan, without relations, and almost +without friends. Her guardian is, I should say _was_, for she is of +age, Lord Downshire, to whom I must write for his consent, a piece +of respect to which he is entitled for his care of her--and there the +matter rests at present. I think I need not tell you that if I assume +the new character which I threaten, I shall be happy to find that +in that capacity, I may make myself more useful to my brothers, and +especially to Anne, than I could in any other. On the other hand, I +shall certainly expect that my friends will endeavour to show every +attention in their power to a woman who forsakes for me, prospects +much more splendid than what I can offer, and who comes into Scotland +without a single friend but myself. I find I could write a great deal +more upon this subject, but as it is late, and as I must write to my +father, I shall restrain myself. I think (but you are the best judge) +that in the circumstances in which I stand, you should write to her, +Miss Carpenter, under cover to me at Carlisle. + +Write to me very fully upon this important subject--send me your +opinion, your advice, and above all, your blessing; you will see the +necessity of not delaying a minute in doing so, and in keeping this +business _strictly private_, till you hear farther from me, since you +are not ignorant that even at this advanced period, an objection on +the part of Lord Downshire, or many other accidents, may intervene; in +which case, I should little wish my disappointment to be public. + + + +TO MISS SEWARD + +_The Lay of the Last Minstrel_ + + +Edinburgh, 21 _March_, 1805. + +MY DEAR MISS SEWARD, + +I am truly happy that you found any amusement in the _Lay of the Last +Minstrel_. It has great faults, of which no one can be more sensible +than I am myself. Above all, it is deficient in that sort of +continuity which a story ought to have, and which, were it to write +again, I would endeavour to give it. But I began and wandered forward, +like one in a pleasant country, getting to the top of one hill to see +a prospect, and to the bottom of another to enjoy a shade, and what +wonder if my course has been devious and desultory, and many of my +excursions altogether unprofitable to the advance of my journey. +The Dwarf Page is also an excrescence, and I plead guilty to all the +censures concerning him. The truth is, he has a history, and it is +this: The story of Gilpin Horner was told by an old gentleman to +Lady Dalkeith, and she, much diverted with his actually believing so +grotesque a tale, insisted that I should make it into a Border ballad. +I don't know if you ever saw my lovely chieftainess--if you have, +you must be aware that it is _impossible_ for any one to refuse her +request, as she has more of the angel in face and temper than any one +alive; so that if she had asked me to write a ballad on a broomstick I +must have attempted it. I began a few verses, to be called the Goblin +Page; and they lay long by me, till the applause of some friends +whose judgement I valued induced me to resume the poem; so on I wrote, +knowing no more than the man in the moon how I was to end. At length +the story appeared so uncouth, that I was fain to put it into +the mouth of my old minstrel--lest the nature of it should be +misunderstood, and I should be suspected of setting up a new school of +poetry, instead of a feeble attempt to imitate the old. In the process +of romance the page, intended to be a principal person in the work, +contrived (from the baseness of his natural propensities, I suppose) +to slink downstairs into the kitchen, and now he must e'en abide +there. + +I mention these circumstances to you, and to any one whose applause I +value, because I am unwilling you should suspect me of trifling with +the public in _malice prepense_. As to the herd of critics, it is +impossible for me to pay much attention to them; for, as they do not +understand what I call poetry, we talk in a foreign language to each +other. Indeed, many of these gentlemen appear to me to be a sort of +tinkers, who, unable to _make_ pots and pans, set up for _menders_ of +them, and, God knows, often make two holes in patching one. The sixth +canto is altogether redundant; for the poem should certainly have +closed with the union of the lovers, when the interest, if any, was +at an end. But what could I do? I had my book and my page still on my +hands, and must get rid of them at all events. Manage them as I would, +their catastrophe must have been insufficient to occupy an entire +canto; so I was fain to eke it out with the songs of the minstrels. I +will now descend from the confessional, which I think I have occupied +long enough for the patience of my fair confessor. I am happy you are +disposed to give me absolution, notwithstanding all my sins. We have a +new poet come forth amongst us--James Graham, author of a poem called +_The Sabbath_, which I admire very much. If I can find an opportunity +I will send you a copy. + + + + +TO LADY LOUISA STUART + +_An amiable blue-stocking_ + + +Edinburgh, 16 _June_, 1808. + +MY DEAR LADY LOUISA, + +Nothing will give us more pleasure than to have the honour of showing +every attention in our power to Mr. and Mrs. Morritt, and I am +particularly happy in a circumstance that at once promises me a great +deal of pleasure in the acquaintance of your Ladyship's friends, and +affords me the satisfaction of hearing from you again. Pray don't +triumph over me too much in the case of Lydia. I stood a very +respectable siege; but she caressed my wife, coaxed my children, +and made, by dint of cake and pudding, some impression even upon +the affections of my favourite dog: so, when all the outworks +were carried, the mere fortress had no choice but to surrender on +honourable terms. To the best of my thinking, notwithstanding the +cerulean hue of her stockings, and a most plentiful stock of eccentric +affectation, she is really at bottom a good-natured woman, with much +liveliness and some talent. She is now set out to the Highlands, where +she is likely to encounter many adventures. Mrs. Scott and I went as +far as Loch Catrine with her, from which jaunt I have just returned. +We had most heavenly weather, which was peculiarly favourable to my +fair companions' zeal for sketching every object that fell in their +way, from a castle to a pigeon-house. Did your Ladyship ever travel +with a _drawing_ companion? Mine drew like cart-horses, as well in +laborious zeal as in effect; for, after all, I could not help hinting +that the cataracts delineated bore a singular resemblance to haycocks, +and the rocks much correspondence to large old-fashioned cabinets +with their folding-doors open. So much for Lydia, whom I left on her +journey through the Highlands, but by what route she had not resolved. +I gave her three plans, and think it likely she will adopt none +of them: moreover, when the executive government of postilions, +landlords, and Highland boatmen devolves upon her English servant +instead of me, I am afraid the distresses of the errant damsels will +fall a little beneath the dignity of romances. All this nonsense is +_entre nous_, for Miss White has been actively zealous in getting me +some Irish correspondence about Swift, and otherwise very obliging. + +It is not with my inclination that I fag for the booksellers; but what +can I do? My poverty and not my will consents. The income of my office +is only reversionary, and my private fortune much limited. My poetical +success fairly destroyed my prospects of professional success, and +obliged me to retire from the bar; for though I had a competent share +of information and industry, who would trust their cause to the author +of the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_? Now, although I do allow that an +author should take care of his literary character, yet I think the +least thing that his literary character can do in return is to take +some care of the author, who is unfortunately, like Jeremy in _Love +for Love_, furnished with a set of tastes and appetites which would +do honour to the income of a Duke if he had it. Besides, I go to work +with Swift _con amore_; for, like Dryden, he is an early favourite +of mine. The _Marmion_ is nearly out, and I have made one or two +alterations on the third edition, with which the press is now +groaning. So soon as it is, it will make the number of copies +published within the space of six months amount to eight thousand,--an +immense number, surely, and enough to comfort the author's wounded +feelings, had the claws of the reviewers been able to reach him +through the _steel jack_ of true Border indifference. + + + +TO ROBERT SOUTHEY + +_Congratulations_ + + +Edinburgh, 13 _Nov._ 1813. + +I do not delay, my dear Southey, to say my _gratulor_. Long may you +live, as Paddy says, to rule over us, and to redeem the crown of +Spenser and of Dryden to its pristine dignity. I am only discontented +with the extent of your royal revenue, which I thought had been L400, +or L300 at the very least. Is there no getting rid of that iniquitous +modus, and requiring the _butt_ in kind? I would have you think of it: +I know no man so well entitled to Xeres sack as yourself, though many +bards would make a better figure at drinking it. I should think that +in due time a memorial might get some relief in this part of the +appointment--it should be at least L100 wet and L100 dry. When you +have carried your point of discarding the ode, and my point of getting +the sack, you will be exactly in the situation of Davy in the +farce, who stipulates for more wages, less work, and the key of the +ale-cellar. I was greatly delighted with the circumstances of +your investiture. It reminded me of the porters at Calais with Dr. +Smollett's baggage, six of them seizing upon one small portmanteau, +and bearing it in triumph to his lodgings. You see what it is to +laugh at the superstitions of a gentleman-usher, as I think you do +somewhere. 'The whirligig of Time brings about his revenges.' + +Adieu, my dear Southey; my best wishes attend all that you do, and my +best congratulations every good that attends you--yea even this, the +very least of Providence's mercies, as a poor clergyman said when +pronouncing grace over a herring. I should like to know how the prince +received you; his address is said to be excellent, and his knowledge +of literature far from despicable. What a change of fortune even +since the short time when we met! The great work of retribution is now +rolling onward to consummation, yet am I not fully satisfied--_pereat +iste_--there will be no permanent peace in Europe till Buonaparte +sleeps with the tyrants of old. + + + +TO J.B.S. MORRITT + +_A small anonymous sort of a novel_ + + +Edinburgh, 9 _July_, 1814. + +MY DEAR MORRITT, + +I owe you many apologies for not sooner answering your very +entertaining letter upon your Parisian journey. I heartily wish I had +been of your party, for you have seen what I trust will not be seen +again in a hurry; since, to enjoy the delight of a restoration, there +is a necessity for a previous _bouleversement_ of everything that is +valuable in morals and policy which seems to have been the case in +France since 1790. The Duke of Buccleugh told me yesterday of a very +good reply of Louis to some of his attendants, who proposed shutting +the doors of his apartments to keep out the throng of people. 'Open +the door,' he said, 'to John Bull; he has suffered a great deal in +keeping the door open for me.' + +Now, to go from one important subject to another, I must account for +my own laziness, which I do by referring you to a small anonymous sort +of a novel, in three volumes, _Waverley_, which you will receive by +the mail of this day. It was a very old attempt of mine to embody some +traits of those characters and manners peculiar to Scotland, the last +remnants of which vanished during my own youth, so that few or no +traces now remain. I had written great part of the first volume, and +sketched other passages, when I mislaid the MS., and only found it by +the merest accident as I was rummaging the drawers of an old cabinet; +and I took the fancy of finishing it, which I did so fast, that the +last two volumes were written in three weeks. I had a great deal of +fun in the accomplishment of this task, though I do not expect that it +will be popular in the south, as much of the humour, if there be any, +is local, and some of it even professional. You, however, who are an +adopted Scotchman, will find some amusement in it. It has made a very +strong impression here, and the good people of Edinburgh are busied in +tracing the author, and in finding out originals for the portraits it +contains. In the first case, they will probably find it difficult to +convict the guilty author, although he is far from escaping suspicion. +Jeffrey has offered to make oath that it is mine, and another great +critic has tendered his affidavit _ex contrario_; so that these +authorities have divided the Gude Town. However, the thing has +succeeded very well, and is thought highly of. I don't know if it has +got to London yet. I intend to maintain my _incognito_. Let me know +your opinion about it.... + +24 _July_. + +... I had just proceeded thus far when your kind favour of the +21st reached Abbotsford. I am heartily glad you continued to like +_Waverley_ to the end. The hero is a sneaking piece of imbecility; +and if he had married Flora, she would have set him up upon the +chimney-piece, as Count Borowlaski's wife used to do with him. I am +a bad hand at depicting a hero properly so called, and have an +unfortunate propensity for the dubious characters of borderers, +buccaneers, Highland robbers, and all others of a Robin-Hood +description. I do not know why it should be, as I am myself, like +Hamlet, indifferent honest; but I suppose the blood of the old +cattle-drivers of Teviotdale continues to stir in my veins. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Acceptance of a baronetcy_ + + +Edinburgh, 7 _Dec._, 1818. + +MY DEAR MORRITT, + +... There is another thing I have to whisper in your faithful ear. Our +fat friend being desirous to honour Literature in my unworthy person, +has intimated to me, by his organ the Doctor, that, with consent ample +and unanimous of all the potential voices of all his ministers, +each more happy than another of course on so joyful an occasion, he +proposes to dub me Baronet. It would be easy saying a parcel of fine +things about my contempt of rank, and so forth; but although I would +not have gone a step out of my way to have asked, or bought, or +begged, or borrowed a distinction, which to me personally will rather +be inconvenient than otherwise, yet, coming as it does directly from +the source of feudal honours, and as an honour, I am really gratified +with it;--especially as it is intimated, that it is his Royal +Highness's pleasure to heat the oven for me expressly, without waiting +till he has some new _batch_ of Baronets ready in dough. In plain +English, I am to be gazetted _per se_. My poor friend Carpenter's +bequest to my family has taken away a certain degree of +_impecuniosity_, a necessity of saving cheese-parings and candle-ends, +which always looks inconsistent with any little pretension to rank. +But as things now stand, Advance banners in the name of God and St. +Andrew. Remember, I anticipate the jest, 'I like not such grinning +honours, as Sir Walter hath.' After all, if one must speak for +themselves, I have my quarters and emblazonments, free of all stain +but Border theft and High Treason, which I hope are gentleman-like +crimes; and I hope Sir Walter Scott will not sound worse than Sir +Humphry Davy, though my merits are as much under his, in point of +utility, as can well be imagined. But a name is something, and mine +is the better of the two. Set down this flourish to the account +of national and provincial pride, for you must know we have more +Messieurs de Sotenville in our Border counties than anywhere else in +the Lowlands--I cannot say for the Highlands. + + + +TO LORD MONTAGU + +_Prince Leopold's visit_ + + +Abbotsford, 3 _Oct._ 1819. + +MY DEAR LORD, + +I am honoured with your Buxton letter.... _Anent_ Prince Leopold, I +only heard of his approach at eight o'clock in the morning, and he +was to be at Selkirk by eleven. The magistrates sent to ask me to help +them to receive him. It occurred to me he might be coming to Melrose +to see the Abbey, in which case I could not avoid asking him to +Abbotsford, as he must pass my very door. I mentioned this to Mrs. +Scott, who was lying quietly in bed, and I wish you had heard the +scream she gave on the occasion. 'What have we to offer him?'--'Wine +and cake,' said I, thinking to make all things easy; but she +ejaculated, in a tone of utter despair, 'Cake!! where am I to get +cake?' However, being partly consoled with the recollection that his +visit was a very improbable incident, and curiosity, as usual, proving +too strong for alarm, she set out with me in order not to miss a peep +of the great man. James Skene and his lady were with us, and we gave +our carriages such additional dignity as a pair of leaders could add, +and went to meet him in full puff. The Prince very civilly told me, +that, though he could not see Melrose on this occasion, he wished to +come to Abbotsford for an hour. New despair on the part of Mrs. Scott, +who began to institute a domiciliary search for cold meat through the +whole city of Selkirk, which produced _one shoulder of cold lamb_. In +the meanwhile, his Royal Highness received the civic honours of the +BIRSE[1] very graciously. I had hinted to Bailie Lang, that it ought +only to be licked _symbolically_ on the present occasion; so he +flourished it three times before his mouth, but without touching it +with his lips, and the Prince followed his example as directed. Lang +made an excellent speech, sensible, and feeling, and well delivered. +The Prince seemed much surprised at this great propriety of expression +and behaviour in a magistrate, whose people seemed such a rabble, and +whose whole band of music consisted in a drum and fife. He noticed to +Bailie Anderson, that Selkirk seemed very populous in proportion +to its extent. 'On an occasion like this it seems so,' answered the +Bailie, neatly enough I thought. I question if any magistrates in the +kingdom, lord mayors and aldermen not excepted, could have behaved +with more decent and quiet good-breeding. Prince Leopold repeatedly +alluded to this during the time he was at Abbotsford. I do not know +how Mrs. Scott ultimately managed; but with broiled salmon, and +black-cock, and partridges, she gave him a very decent lunch; and I +chanced to have some very fine old hock, which was mighty germain to +the matter. + +The Prince seems melancholy, whether naturally or from habit, I do not +pretend to say; but I do not remember thinking him so at Paris, where +I saw him frequently, then a much poorer man than myself; yet he +showed some humour, for alluding to the crowds that followed him +everywhere, he mentioned some place where he had gone out to shoot, +but was afraid to proceed for fear of 'bagging a boy'. He said +he really thought of getting some shooting-place in Scotland, and +promised me a longer visit on his return. If I had had a day's +notice to have _warned the waters_, we could have met him with a very +respectable number of the gentry; but there was no time for this, and +probably he liked it better as it was. There was only young Clifton +who could have come, and he was shy and cubbish, and would not, though +requested by the Selkirk people. He was perhaps ashamed to march +through Coventry with them. It hung often and sadly on my mind that +_he_ was wanting who could and would have received him like a Prince +indeed; and yet the meeting betwixt them, had they been fated to meet, +would have been a very sad one. I think I have now given your +lordship a very full, true, and particular account of our royal visit, +unmatched even by that of King Charles at the Castle of Tillietudlem. +That we did not speak of it for more than a week after it happened, +and that that emphatic monosyllable, _The Prince_, is not heard +amongst us more than ten times a-day, is, on the whole, to the credit +of my family's understanding. The piper is the only one whose brain he +seems to have endangered; for, as the Prince said he preferred him to +any he had heard in the Highlands--(which, by the way, shows his +Royal Highness knows nothing of the matter),--the fellow seems to have +become incapable of his ordinary occupation as a forester, and has cut +stick and stem without remorse to the tune of _Phail Phranse_, i.e. +the Prince's welcome. + +[Footnote 1: Bundle of hog's bristles; symbol of the soutars.] + + + +To DANIEL TERRY + +_Progress at Abbotsford_ + + +Abbotsford, 10 _Nov_. 1822. + +My dear Terry, + +I got all the plans safe, and they are delightful. The library +ceiling will be superb, and we have plenty of ornaments for it without +repeating one of those in the eating-room. The plan of shelves is also +excellent, and will, I think, for a long time suffice my collection. +The brasses for the shelves I like--but not the price: the notched +ones, after all, do very well. I have had three grand hawls since I +last wrote to you. The pulpit, repentance-stool, King's seat, and +God knows how much of carved wainscot, from the kirk of Dunfermline, +enough to coat the hall to the height of seven feet:--supposing +it boarded above, for hanging guns, old portraits, intermixed with +armour, &c.--it will be a superb entrance-gallery: this is hawl the +first. Hawl second is twenty-four pieces of the most splendid Chinese +paper, twelve feet high by four wide, a present from my cousin Hugh +Scott, enough to finish the drawing-room and two bedrooms. Hawl third +is a quantity of what is called Jamaica cedar-wood, enough for fitting +up both the drawing-room and the library, including the presses, +shelves, &c.: the wood is finely pencilled and most beautiful, +something like the colour of gingerbread; it costs very little more +than oak, works much easier, and is never touched by vermin of any +kind. I sent Mr. Atkinson a specimen, but it was from the plain end of +the plank; the interior is finely waved and variegated. Your kind +and unremitting exertions in our favour will soon plenish the +drawing-room. Thus we at present stand. We have a fine old English +cabinet, with china, &c.-and two superb elbow-chairs, the gift of +Constable, carved most magnificently, with groups of children, fruit, +and flowers, in the Italian taste: they came from Rome, and are much +admired. It seems to me that the mirror you mention, being framed in +carved box, would answer admirably well with the chairs, which are of +the same material. The mirror should, I presume, be placed over +the drawing-room chimney-piece; and opposite to it I mean to put an +antique table of mosaic marbles, to support Chantrey's bust. A good +sofa would be desirable, and so would the tapestry screen, if really +fresh and beautiful; but as much of our furniture will be a little +antiquated, one would not run too much into that taste in so small an +apartment. For the library I have the old oak chairs now in the little +armoury, eight in number, and we might add one or two pair of the +ebony chairs you mention. I should think this enough, for many seats +in such a room must impede access to the books; and I don't mean +the library to be on ordinary occasions a public room. Perhaps the +tapestry-screen would suit better here than in the drawing-room. I +have one library table here, and shall have another made for atlases +and prints. For the hall I have four chairs of black oak. In other +matters we can make it out well enough. In fact, it is my object +rather to keep under my new accommodations at first, both to avoid +immediate outlay, and that I may leave room for pretty things which +may occur hereafter. I would to Heaven I could take a cruise with you +through the brokers, which would be the pleasantest affair possible, +only I am afraid I should make a losing voyage of it. Mr. Atkinson has +missed a little my idea of the oratory, fitting it up entirely as +a bookcase, whereas I should like to have had recesses for +curiosities--for the Bruce's skull--for a crucifix, &c., &c.-in short, +a little cabinet instead of a book-closet. Four sides of books would +be perfectly sufficient; the other four, so far as not occupied by +door or window, should be arranged tastefully for antiquities, &c., +like the inside of an antique cabinet, with drawers, and shottles, and +funny little arches. The oak screen dropped as from the clouds: it is +most acceptable; I might have guessed there was only one kind friend +so ready to supply hay to my hobby-horse. You have my views in these +matters and your own taste; and I will send the _needful_ when +you apprise me of the amount total. Where things are not quite +satisfactory, it is better to wait a while on every account, for the +amusement is over when one has room for nothing more. The house is +completely roofed, &c., and looks worthy of Mrs. Terry's painting. I +never saw anything handsomer than the grouping of towers, chimneys, +&c. upon the roof, when seen at a proper distance. + +Once more, let me wish you joy of your professional success. I can +judge, by a thousand minute items, of the advance you make with the +public, just as I can of the gradual progress of my trees, because I +am interested in both events. You may say, like Burke, you were not +'coaxed and dandled into eminence' but have fought your way gallantly, +shown your passport at every barrier, and been always a step in +advance, without a single retrograde movement. Every one wishes to +advance rapidly, but when the desired position is gained, it is far +more easily maintained by him whose ascent has been gradual, and whose +favour is founded not on the unreasonable expectations entertained +from one or two seasons, but from an habitual experience of the power +of pleasing during several years. You say not a word of poor Wattles. +I hope little Miss has not put his nose out of joint entirely. + +I have not been very well--a whoreson thickness of blood, and a +depression of spirits arising from the loss of friends (to whom I +am now to add poor Wedderburne), have annoyed me much; and _Peveril_ +will, I fear, smell of the apoplexy. I propose a good rally, however, +and hope it will be a powerful effect. My idea is, _entre nous_, a +Scotch archer in the French King's guard, _tempore_ Louis XI, the most +picturesque of all times. + + + +TO J.B.S. MORRITT + +_A brave face to the world_ + + +Edinburgh, 6 _Feb._ 1826. + +MY DEAR MORRITT, + +It is very true I have been, and am in danger, of a pecuniary loss, +and probably a very large one, which in the uncertainty I look at as +to the full extent, being the manly way of calculating such matters, +since one may be better, but can hardly be worse. I can't say I +feel overjoyed at losing a large sum of hard-earned money in a most +unexpected manner, for all men considered Constable's people secure as +the Bank; yet, as I have obtained an arrangement of payment convenient +for every body concerned, and easy for myself, I cannot say that I +care much about the matter. Some economical restrictions I will make; +and it happened oddly that they were such as Lady Scott and myself +had almost determined upon without this compulsion. Abbotsford will +henceforth be our only establishment; and during the time I must be +in town, I will take my bed at the Albyn Club. We shall also break +off the rather excessive hospitality to which we were exposed, and no +longer stand host and hostess to all that do pilgrimage to Melrose. +Then I give up an expensive farm, which I always hated, and turn +all my odds and ends into cash. I do not reckon much on my literary +exertions--I mean in proportion to former success--because popular +taste may fluctuate. But with a moderate degree of the favour which +I have always had, my time my own, and my mind unplagued about other +things, I may boldly promise myself soon to get the better of this +blow. In these circumstances, I should be unjust and ungrateful to ask +or accept the pity of my friends. I for one, do not see there is much +occasion for making moan about it. My womankind will be the greater +sufferers,--yet even they look cheerily forward; and, for myself, the +blowing off my hat in a stormy day has given me more uneasiness. + +I envy your Brighton party, and your fine weather. When I was at +Abbotsford the mercury was down at six or seven in the morning more +than once. I am hammering away at a bit of a story from the old affair +of the _diablerie_ at Woodstock in the Long Parliament times. I don't +like it much. I am obliged to hamper my fanatics greatly too much +to make them effective; but I make the sacrifice on principle; so, +perhaps, I shall deserve good success in other parts of the work. +You will be surprised when I tell you that I have written a volume in +exactly fifteen days. To be sure, I permitted no interruptions. But +then I took exercise, and for ten days of the fifteen attended the +Court of Session from two to four hours every day. This is nothing, +however, to writing _Ivanhoe_ when I had the actual cramp in my +stomach; but I have no idea of these things preventing a man +from doing what he has a mind. My love to all the party at +Brighton--fireside party I had almost said, but you scorn my +words--seaside party then be it. Lady Scott and Anne join in kindest +love. I must close my letter, for one of the consequences of our +misfortunes is, that we dine every day at half-past four o'clock; +which premature hour arises, I suppose, from sorrow being hungry as +well as thirsty. One most laughable part of our tragic comedy was, +that every friend in the world came formally, just as they do here +when a relation dies, thinking that the eclipse of _les beaux yeux de +ma cassette_ was perhaps a loss as deserving of consolation. + + + +TO MARIA EDGEWORTH + +_Time's revenges_ + + +Edinburgh, 23 _June_, 1830. + +MY DEAR MISS EDGEWORTH, + +Nothing would be so valuable to me as the mark of kindness which you +offer, and yet my kennel is so much changed since I had the pleasure +of seeing you, that I must not accept of what I wished so sincerely +to possess. I am the happy owner of two of the noble breed, each of +gigantic size, and the gift of that sort of Highlander whom we call a +High Chief, so I would hardly be justified in parting with them even +to make room for your kind present, and I should have great doubts +whether the mountaineers would receive the Irish stranger with due +hospitality. One of them I had from poor Glengarry, who, with all the +wild and fierce points of his character, had a kind, honest, and +warm heart. The other from a young friend, whom Highlanders call +MacVourigh, and Lowlanders MacPherson of Cluny. He is a fine spirited +boy, fond of his people and kind to them, and the best dancer of a +Highland reel now living. I fear I must not add a third to Nimrod and +Bran, having little use for them except being pleasant companions. As +to labouring in their vocation, we have only one wolf which I know +of, kept in a friend's menagerie near me, and no wild deer. Walter +has some roebucks indeed, but Lochore is far off, and I begin to +feel myself distressed at running down these innocent and beautiful +creatures, perhaps because I cannot gallop so fast after them as to +drown sense of the pain we are inflicting. And yet I suspect I am like +the sick fox; and if my strength and twenty years could come back, I +would become again a copy of my namesake, remembered by the sobriquet +of Walter _ill tae hauld_ (to hold, that is). 'But age has clawed +me in its clutch,' and there is no remedy for increasing disability +except dying, which is an awkward score. + +There is some chance of my retiring from my official situation upon +the changes in the Court of Session. They cannot reduce my office, +though they do not wish to fill it up with a new occupant. I shall be +therefore _de trop_; and in these days of economy they will be better +pleased to let me retire on three parts of my salary than to keep me a +Clerk of Session on the whole; and small grief at our parting, as the +old horse said to the broken cart. And yet, though I thought such a +proposal when first made was like a Pisgah peep at Paradise, I cannot +help being a little afraid of changing the habits of a long life all +of a sudden and for ever. You ladies have always your work-basket and +stocking-knitting to wreak an hour of tediousness upon. The routine of +business serves, I suspect, for the same purpose to us male wretches; +it is seldom a burden to the mind, but a something which must be done, +and is done almost mechanically; and though dull judges and duller +clerks, the routine of law proceedings, and law forms, are very unlike +the plumed troops and the tug of war, yet the result is the same. +The occupation's gone. The morning, that the day's news must all be +gathered from other sources--that the jokes which the principal Clerks +of Session have laughed at weekly for a century, and which would not +move a muscle of any other person's face, must be laid up to perish +like those of Sancho in the Sierra Morena--I don't above half like +forgetting all these moderate habits, and yet + + Ah, freedom is a noble thing! + +as says the old Scottish poet. So I will cease my regrets, or lay them +by to be taken up and used as arguments of comfort, in case I do not +slip my cable after all, which is highly possible. Lockhart and Sophia +have taken up their old residence at Chiefswood. They are very fond of +the place; and I am glad also my grandchildren will be bred near the +heather, for certain qualities which I think are best taught there. + + + + +SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE + +1772-1834 + + + +TO CHARLES LAMB + +_A sympathetic reply_[1] + + +28 _Sept._ 1796. + +Your letter, my friend, struck me with a mighty horror. It rushed upon +me and stupefied my feelings. You bid me write you a religious letter; +I am not a man who would attempt to insult the greatness of your +anguish by any other consolation. Heaven knows that in the easiest +fortunes there is much dissatisfaction and weariness of spirit: +much that calls for the exercise of patience and resignation; but +in storms, like these, that shake the dwelling and make the heart +tremble, there is no middle way between despair and the yielding up of +the whole spirit unto the guidance of faith. And surely it is a matter +of joy, that your faith in Jesus has been preserved; the Comforter +that should relieve you is not far from you. But as you are a +Christian, in the name of that Saviour, who was filled with bitterness +and made drunken with wormwood, I conjure you to have recourse in +frequent prayer to 'his God and your God'; the God of mercies, and +father of all comfort. Your poor father is, I hope, almost senseless +of the calamity; the unconscious instrument of Divine Providence knows +it not, and your mother is in heaven. It is sweet to be roused from +a frightful dream by the song of birds, and the gladsome rays of +the morning. Ah, how infinitely more sweet to be awakened from the +blackness and amazement of a sudden horror by the glories of God +manifest and the hallelujahs of angels. + +As to what regards yourself, I approve altogether of your abandoning +what you justly call vanities. I look upon you as a man called by +sorrow and anguish and a strange desolation of hopes into quietness, +and a soul set apart and made peculiar to God. We cannot arrive at any +portion of heavenly bliss without in some measure imitating Christ; +and they arrive at the largest inheritance who imitate the most +difficult parts of His character, and, bowed down and crushed under +foot, cry in fullness of faith, 'Father, Thy will be done.' + +I wish above measure to have you for a little while here--no visitants +shall blow on the nakedness of your feelings--you shall be quiet, and +your spirit may be healed. I see no possible objection, unless your +father's helplessness prevent you, and unless you are necessary to +him. If this be not the case, I charge you write me that you will +come. + +I charge you, my dearest friend, not to dare to encourage gloom or +despair--you are a temporary sharer in human miseries, that you may +be an eternal partaker of the Divine nature. I charge you, if by any +means it be possible, come to me. + +[Footnote 1: See Letter, p. 355.] + + + +TO JOSEPH COTTLE + +_Literary adventurers_ + + +[1798.] + +MY DEAR COTTLE, + +Neither Wordsworth nor myself could have been otherwise than +uncomfortable, if any but yourself had received from us the first +offer of our tragedies, and of the volume of Wordsworth's poems. At +the same time, we did not expect that you could with prudence and +propriety, advance such a sum as we should want at the time we +specified. In short, we both regard the publication of our tragedies +as an evil. It is not impossible but that in happier times they may be +brought on the stage: and to throw away this chance for a mere trifle, +would be to make the present moment act fraudulently and usuriously +towards the future time. + +My tragedy employed and strained all my thoughts and faculties for +six or seven months; Wordsworth consumed far more time, and far more +thought, and far more genius. We consider the publication of them +an evil on any terms; but our thoughts were bent on a plan for the +accomplishment of which a certain sum of money was necessary, (the +whole) at that particular time, and in order to do this we resolved, +although reluctantly, to part with our tragedies: that is, if we +could obtain thirty guineas for each, and at less than thirty guineas +Wordsworth will not part with the copyright of his volume of poems. We +shall offer the tragedies to no one, for we have determined to procure +the money some other way. If you choose the volume of poems, at +the price mentioned, to be paid at the time specified, i.e. thirty +guineas, to be paid sometime in the last fortnight of July, you may +have them; but remember, my dear fellow! I write to you now merely as +a bookseller, and entreat you, in your answer, to consider yourself +only; as to us, although money is necessary to our plan [that of +visiting Germany], yet the plan is not necessary to our happiness; and +if it were, W. would sell his poems for that sum to some one else, +or we could procure the money without selling the poems. So I entreat +you, again and again, in your answer, which must be immediate, +consider yourself only. + +Wordsworth has been caballed against _so long and so loudly_, that +he has found it impossible to prevail on the tenant of the Allfoxden +estate to let him the house, after their first agreement is expired, +so he must quit it at midsummer; whether we shall be able to procure +him a house and furniture near Stowey, we know not, and yet we must: +for the hills, and the woods, and the streams, and the sea, and the +shores would break forth into reproaches against us, if we did not +strain every nerve to keep their poet among them. Without joking, and +in serious sadness, Poole and I cannot endure to think of losing him. + +At all events, come down, Cottle, as soon as you can, but before +midsummer, and we will procure a horse easy as thy own soul, and we +will go on a roam to Lynton and Lynmouth, which, if thou comest in +May, will be in all their pride of woods and waterfalls, not to speak +of its august cliffs, and the green ocean, and the vast valley of +stones, all which live disdainful of the seasons, or accept new +honours only from the winter's snow. At all events come down, and +cease not to believe me much and affectionately your friend. + + + +TO JOSIAH WADE + +_A public example_ + + +Bristol, 26 _June_, 1814. + +DEAR SIR, + +For I am unworthy to call any good man friend--much less you, whose +hospitality and love I have abused; accept, however, my entreaties for +your forgiveness, and for your prayers. + +Conceive a poor miserable wretch, who for many years has been +attempting to beat off pain, by a constant recurrence to the vice that +reproduces it. Conceive a spirit in hell, employed in tracing out for +others the road to that heaven, from which his crimes exclude him! In +short, conceive whatever is most wretched, helpless, and hopeless, and +you will form as tolerable a notion of my state, as it is possible for +a good man to have. + +I used to think the text in St. James that 'he who offendeth in one +point, offends in all,' very harsh; but I now feel the awful, the +tremendous truth of it. In the one crime of OPIUM, what crime have +I not made myself guilty of! Ingratitude to my Maker! and to my +benefactors--injustice! _and unnatural cruelty to my poor children! +_--self-contempt for my repeated promise-breach, nay, too often, +actual falsehood! + +After my death, I earnestly entreat that a full and unqualified +narration of my wretchedness, and of its guilty cause, may be made +public, that, at least, some little good may be effected by the +direful example! + +May God Almighty bless you, and have mercy on your still affectionate, +and, in his heart, grateful + +S.T.C. + + + +TO THOMAS ALLSOP + +_Himself and his detractors_ + + +2 _Dec._ 1818. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +I cannot express how kind I felt your letter. Would to Heaven I had +had many with feelings like yours, 'accustomed to express themselves +warmly and (as far as the word is applicable to you), even +enthusiastically'. But alas! during the prime manhood of my intellect +I had nothing but cold water thrown on my efforts. I speak not now of +my systematic and most unprovoked maligners. On _them_ I have retorted +only by pity and by prayer. These may have, and doubtless have, joined +with the frivolity of 'the reading public' in checking and almost in +preventing the sale of my works; and so far have done injury to +my _purse_. _Me_ they have not injured. But I have loved with +enthusiastic self-oblivion those who have been so well pleased that +I should, year after year, flow with a hundred nameless rills into +_their_ main stream, that they could find nothing but cold praise and +effective discouragement of every attempt of mine to roll onward in a +distinct current of my own; who _admitted_ that the _Ancient Mariner_, +the _Christabel_, the _Remorse_, and some pages of the _Friend_ +were not without merit, but were abundantly anxious to acquit their +judgements of any blindness to the very numerous defects. Yet they +_knew_ that to _praise_, as mere praise, I was characteristically, +almost constitutionally, indifferent. In sympathy alone I found at +once nourishment and stimulus; and for sympathy _alone_ did my heart +crave. They knew, too, how long and faithfully I have acted on the +maxim, never to admit the _faults_ of a work of genius to those who +denied or were incapable of feeling and understanding the _beauties_; +not from wilful partiality, but as well knowing that in _saying_ truth +I should, to such critics, convey falsehood. If, in one instance, in +my literary life I have appeared to deviate from this rule, first, +it was not till the fame of the writer (which I had been for fourteen +years successfully toiling like a second Ali to build up) had been +established; and secondly and chiefly, with the purpose and, I may +safely add, with the _effect_ of rescuing the necessary task from +Malignant Defamers, and in order to set forth the excellences and the +trifling proportion which the defects bore to the excellences. But +this, my dear sir, is a mistake to which affectionate natures are too +liable, though I do not remember to have ever seen it noticed--the +mistaking those who are desirous and well pleased to be loved _by_ +you, for those who love you. Add, as a more general cause, the fact +that I neither am nor ever have been of any party. What wonder, then, +if I am left to decide which has been my worst enemy, the broad, +pre-determined abuse of the _Edinburgh Review_, &c., or the cold and +brief compliments, with the warm _regrets_, of the _Quarterly_? After +all, however, I have now but one sorrow relative to the ill success of +my literary toils (and toils they have been, _though not undelightful +toils_), and this arises wholly from the almost insurmountable +difficulties which the anxieties of to-day oppose to my completion +of the great work, the form and materials of which it has been the +employment of the best and most genial hours of the last twenty years +to mature and collect. + +If I could but have a tolerably numerous audience to my first, or +first and second Lectures on the _History of Philosophy_, I should +entertain a strong hope of success, because I know that these lectures +will be found by far the most interesting and _entertaining_ of any +that I have yet delivered, independent of the more permanent interest +of rememberable instruction. Few and unimportant would the errors of +men be, if they did but know, first, _what they themselves meant_; +and, secondly, what the _words_ mean by which they attempt to convey +their meaning, and I can conceive no subject so well fitted to +exemplify the mode and the importance of these two points as the +History of Philosophy, treated as in the scheme of these lectures. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The Great Work described_ + + +_Jan._ 1821. + +... I have already the _written_ materials and contents, requiring +only to be put together from the loose papers and commonplace or +memorandum books, and needing no other change, whether of omission, +addition, or correction, than the mere act of arranging, and the +opportunity of seeing the whole collectively bring with them of course +(1) Characteristics of Shakespeare's dramatic works, with a critical +review of each play; together with a relative and comparative critique +on the kind and degree of the merits and demerits of the dramatic +works of Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, and Massinger. The +History of the English Drama; the accidental advantages it afforded +to Shakespeare, without in the least detracting from the perfect +originality or proper creation of the Shakespearian Drama; the +contradistinction of the latter from the Greek Drama, and its still +remaining _uniqueness_, with the causes of this, from the combined +influences of Shakespeare himself, as man, poet, philosopher, and +finally, by conjunction of all these, dramatic poet; and of the age, +events, manners, and state of the English language. This work, with +every art of compression, amounts to three volumes of about five +hundred pages each. (2) Philosophical Analysis of the Genius and Works +of Dante, Spenser, Milton, Cervantes, and Calderon, with similar, but +more compressed criticisms on Chaucer, Ariosto, Donne, Rabelais, and +others, during the predominance of the Romantic Poetry. In one large +volume. These two works will, I flatter myself, form a complete code +of the principles of judgement and feeling applied to works of Taste; +and not of Poetry only, but of Poesy in all its forms, Painting, +Statuary, Music, &c., &c. (3) The History of Philosophy considered +as a Tendency of the Human Mind to exhibit the Powers of the Human +Reason, to discover by its own Strength the Origin and Laws of Man and +the World, from Pythagoras to Locke and Condillac. Two volumes. +(4) Letters on the Old and New Testament, and on the Doctrine +and Principles held in common by the Fathers and Founders of the +Reformation, addressed to a candidate for Holy Orders, including +advice on the Plan and Subjects of Preaching, proper to a Minister of +the Established Church. + +To the completion of these four works, I have literally nothing more +to do than to _transcribe_; but, as I before hinted, from so many +scraps and _sibylline_ leaves, including margins of books and blank +pages, that, unfortunately, I must be my own scribe, and not done by +myself, they will be all but lost; or perhaps (as has been too often +the case already) furnish feathers for the caps of others; some for +this purpose, and some to plume the arrows of detraction, to be let +fly against the luckless bird from whom they had been plucked or +moulted. + +In addition to these--of my GREAT WORK, to the preparation of which +more than twenty years of my life have been devoted, and on which +my hopes of extensive and permanent utility, of fame, in the noblest +sense of the word, mainly rest--that, by which I might, + + As now by thee, by all the good be known, + When this weak frame lies moulder'd in the grave, + Which self-surviving I might call my own, + Which folly cannot mar, nor hate deprave-- + The incense of those powers, which, risen in flame, + Might make me dear to Him from whom they came. + +Of this work, to which all my other writings (unless I except my +Poems, and these I can exclude in part only) are introductory and +preparative; and the result of which (if the premises be, as I, with +the most tranquil assurance, am convinced they are--insubvertible, +the deductions legitimate, and the conclusions commensurate, and only +commensurate, with both) must finally be a revolution of all that has +been called _philosophy_ or metaphysics in England and France, since +the era of the commencing predominance of the mechanical system at +the restoration of our second Charles, and with this the present +fashionable views, not only of religion, morals, and politics but +even of the modern physics and physiology. You will not blame the +earnestness of my expressions, nor the high importance which I attach +to this work: for how, with less noble objects, and less faith in +their attainment, could I stand acquitted of folly, and abuse of time, +talents, and learning in a labour of three-fourths of my intellectual +life? Of this work, something more than a volume has been dictated +by me, so as to exist fit for the press, to my friend and enlightened +pupil, Mr. Green; and more than as much again would have been evolved +and delivered to paper, but that, for the last six or eight months, +I have been compelled to break off our weekly meeting, from the +necessity of writing (alas! alas! of attempting to write) for +purposes, and on the subjects, of the passing day. Of my poetic works +I would fain finish the _Christabel_! Alas! for the proud time when I +planned, when I had present to my mind, the materials, as well as +the scheme, of the Hymns entitled _Spirit_, _Sun_, _Earth_, _Air_, +_Water_, _Fire_ and _Man_; and the Epic Poem on what still appears +to me the one only fit subject remaining for an epic poem--Jerusalem +besieged and destroyed by Titus. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Reminiscences_ + + +4 March, 1822. + +My Dearest Friend, + +I have been much more than ordinarily unwell for more than a week +past--my sleeps worse than my vigils, my nights than my days; + + --The night's dismay + Sadden'd and stunned the intervening day; + +but last night I had not only a calmer night, without roaming in my +dreams through any of Swedenborg's Hells _moderes_; but arose this +morning lighter and with a sense of _relief_.... + +I shall make you smile, as I did dear Mary Lamb, when I say that you +sometimes mistake my position. As individual to individual, from +my childhood, I do not remember feeling myself either superior or +inferior to any human being; except by an act of my own will in cases +of real or imagined moral or intellectual superiority. In regard to +worldly rank, from eight years old to nineteen, I was habituated, +nay, naturalised, to look up to men circumstanced as you are, as my +superiors--a large number of our governors, and almost _all_ of those +whom we regarded as greater men still, and whom we saw most of, _viz._ +our committee governors, were such--and as neither awake nor asleep +have I any other feelings than what I had at Christ's Hospital, +I distinctly remember that I felt a little flush of pride and +consequence--just like what we used to feel at school when the boys +came running to us--'Coleridge! here's your friends want you--they are +quite _grand_,' or 'It is quite a _lady_'--when I first heard who you +were, and laughed at myself for it with that pleasurable sensation +that, spite of my sufferings at that school, still accompanies any +sudden reawakening of our school-boy feelings and notions. And oh, +from sixteen to nineteen what hours of Paradise had Allen and I in +escorting the Miss Evanses home on a Saturday, who were then at a +milliner's whom we used to think, and who I believe really was, such +a nice lady;--and we used to carry thither, of a summer morning, the +pillage of the flower gardens within six miles of town, with Sonnet +or Love Rhyme wrapped round the nose-gay. To be feminine, kind, and +genteelly (what I should now call neatly) dressed, these were the only +things to which my head, heart, or imagination had any polarity, and +what I was then, I still am. + +God bless you and yours. + + + + +ROBERT SOUTHEY + +1774-1843 + + + +TO JOSEPH COTTLE + +_Question of copyrights_ + + +Greta Hall, 20 _April_, 1808. + +My dear Cottle,... + +What you say of my copyrights affected me very much. Dear Cottle, set +your heart at rest on that subject. It ought to be at rest. These were +yours, fairly bought, and fairly sold. You bought them on the chance +of their success, which no London bookseller would have done; and had +they not been bought, they could not have been published at all. Nay, +if you had not purchased _Joan of Arc_, the poem never would have +existed, nor should I, in all probability, ever have obtained that +reputation which is the capital on which I subsist, nor that power +which enables me to support it. + +But this is not all. Do you suppose, Cottle, that I have forgotten +those true and most essential acts of friendship which you showed me +when I stood most in need of them? Your house was my house when I had +no other. The very money with which I bought my wedding-ring, and paid +my marriage fees, was supplied by you. It was with your sisters I left +Edith during my six months' absence, and for the six months after my +return it was from you that I received, week by week, the little on +which we lived, till I was enabled to live by other means. It is not +the settling of a cash account that can cancel obligations like these. +You are in the habit of preserving your letters, and if you were +not, I would entreat you to preserve _this_, that it might be seen +hereafter. Sure I am, there never was a more generous or a kinder +heart than yours; and you will believe me when I add, that there does +not live that man upon earth, whom I remember with more gratitude +and more affection. My heart throbs and my eyes burn with these +recollections. Good night! my dear old friend and benefactor. + + + +TO JOHN MAY + +_Waterloo_ + + +Liege, 6 _Oct._ 1815. Six p.m. + +My dear friend, + +I have a happy habit of making the best of all things; and being just +at this time as uncomfortable as the dust and bustle, and all the +disagreeables of an inn in a large filthy manufacturing city can make +me, I have called for pen, ink, and paper, and am actually writing in +the bar, the door open to the yard opposite to this unwiped table, the +doors open to the public room, where two men are dining, and talking +French, and a woman servant at my elbow is lighting a fire for our +party. Presently the folding-doors are to be shut, the ladies are to +descend from their chambers, the bar will be kept appropriated to our +house, the male part of the company will get into good humour, dinner +will be ready, and then I must lay aside the grey goose-quill. As a +preliminary to these promised comforts, the servant is mopping the +hearth, which is composed (like a tesselated pavement) of little +bricks about two inches long by half an inch wide, set within a broad +black stone frame. The fuel is of fire-balls, a mixture of pulverized +coal and clay. I have seen a great deal and heard a great deal,--more, +indeed, than I can keep pace with in my journal, though I strive hard +to do it; but I minute down short notes in my pencil-book with all +possible care, and hope, in the end, to lose nothing.... + +Flanders is a most interesting country. Bruges, the most striking city +I have ever seen, an old city in perfect preservation. It seems as if +not a house had been built during the last two centuries, and not a +house suffered to pass to decay. The poorest people seem to be well +lodged, and there is a general air of sufficiency, cleanliness, +industry, and comfort, which I have never seen in any other place. The +cities have grown worse as we advanced. At Namur we reached a dirty +city, situated in a romantic country; the Meuse there reminded me of +the Thames from your delightful house, an island in size and shape +resembling that upon which I have often wished for a grove of poplars, +coming just in the same position. From thence along the river to this +abominable place, the country is, for the greater part, as lovely as +can be imagined.... + +Our weather hitherto has been delightful. This was especially +fortunate at Waterloo and at Ligny, where we had much ground to walk +over. It would surprise you to see how soon nature has recovered from +the injuries of war. The ground is ploughed and sown, and grain and +flowers and seeds already growing over the field of battle, which is +still strewn with vestiges of the slaughter, caps, cartridges, boxes, +hats, &c. We picked up some French cards and some bullets, and we +purchased a French pistol and two of the eagles which the infantry +wear upon their caps. What I felt upon this ground, it would be +difficult to say; what I saw, and still more what I heard, there is no +time at present for saying. In prose and in verse you shall some day +hear the whole. At Les Quatre Bras, I saw two graves, which probably +the dogs or the swine had opened. In the one were the ribs of a human +body, projecting through the mould; in the other, the whole skeleton +exposed. Some of our party told me of a third, in which the worms were +at work, but I shrunk from the sight. You will rejoice to hear that +the English are as well spoken of for their deportment in peace as in +war. It is far otherwise with the Prussians. Concerning them there is +but one opinion; their brutality is said to exceed that of the French, +and of their intolerable insolence I have heard but too many proofs. +That abominable old Frederic made them a military nation, and this is +the inevitable consequence. This very day we passed a party on their +way towards France--some hundred or two. Two gentlemen and two ladies +of the country, in a carriage, had come up with them; and these +ruffians would not allow them to pass, but compelled them to wait and +follow the slow pace of foot soldiers! This we ourselves saw. Next to +the English, the Belgians have the best character for discipline.... + +I bought at Bruges a French History of Brazil, just published by M. +Alphonse de Beauchamp, in 3 vols. 8vo. He says, in his Preface, that +having finished the first two volumes, he thought it advisable to see +if any new light had been thrown upon the subject by modern authors. +Meantime, a compilation upon this history had appeared in England, +but the English author, Mr. Southey, had brought no new lights; he had +promised much for his second volume, but the hope of literary Europe +had been again deceived, for this second volume, so emphatically +promised, had not appeared. I dare say no person regrets this delay +so much as M. Beauchamp, he having stolen the whole of his two first +volumes, and about the third part of the other, from the very Mr. +Southey whom he abuses. He has copied my references as the list of his +own authorities (MSS. and all), and he has committed blunders which +prove, beyond all doubt, that he does not understand Portuguese. I +have been much diverted by this fellow's impudence. + +The table is laid, and the knives and forks rattling a pleasant note +of preparation, as the woman waiter arranges them. + +God bless you! I have hurried through the sheet, and thus pleasantly +beguiled what would have been a very unpleasant hour. We are all well, +and your god-daughter has seen a live emperor at Brussels. I feel the +disadvantage of speaking French ill, and understanding it by the ear +worse. Nevertheless, I speak it without remorse, make myself somehow +or other understood, and get at what I want to know. Once more, God +bless you, my dear friend. + + + +To HENRY TAYLOR + +_Anastasius Hope_ + + +Keswick, 15 _July_, 1831. + +... Have you seen the strange book which Anastasius Hope left +for publication, and which his representatives, in spite of all +dissuasion, have published? His notion of immortality and heaven is, +that at the consummation of all things he, and you, and I, and John +Murray, and Nebuchadnezzar, and Lambert the fat man, and the living +skeleton, and Queen Elizabeth, and the Hottentot Venus, and Thurtell, +and Probert, and the twelve Apostles, and the noble army of martyrs, +and Genghis Khan, and all his armies, and Noah with all his ancestors +and all his posterity--yea, all men and all women, and all children +that have ever been or ever shall be, saints and sinners alike--are +all to be put together, and made into one great celestial eternal +human being. He does not seem to have known how nearly this approaches +to Swedenborg's fancy. I do not like the scheme. I don't like the +notion of being mixed up with Hume, and Hunt, and Whittle Harvey, and +Philpotts, and Lord Althorpe, and the Huns, and the Hottentots, and +the Jews, and the Philistines, and the Scotch, and the Irish. God +forbid! I hope to be I myself; I, in an English heaven, with you +yourself--you, and some others, without whom heaven would be no heaven +to me. God bless you! + + + +TO EDWARD MOXON + +_Recollections of the Lambs_ + + +Keswick, 2 _Feb._ 1836. + +My dear sir, + +I have been too closely engaged in clearing off the second volume of +Cowper to reply to your inquiries concerning poor Lamb sooner. His +acquaintance with Coleridge began at Christ's Hospital; Lamb was +some two years, I think, his junior. Whether he was ever one of the +_Grecians_ there, might be ascertained, I suppose, by inquiring. My +own impression is, that he was not. Coleridge introduced me to him +in the winter of 1794-5, and to George Dyer also, from whom, if his +memory has not failed, you might probably learn more of Lamb's early +history than from any other person. Lloyd, Wordsworth, and Hazlitt +became known to him through their connexion with Coleridge. + +When I saw the family (one evening only, and at that time), they were +lodging somewhere near Lincoln's Inn, on the western side (I forget +the street), and were evidently in uncomfortable circumstances. The +father and mother were both living; and I have some dim recollection +of the latter's invalid appearance. The father's senses had failed him +before that time. He published some poems in quarto. Lamb showed me +once an imperfect copy: the _Sparrow's Wedding_ was the title of the +longest piece, and this was the author's favourite; he liked, in his +dotage, to hear Charles read it. + +His most familiar friend, when I first saw him, was White, who held +some office at Christ's Hospital, and continued intimate with him as +long as he lived. You know what Elia says of him. He and Lamb were +joint authors of the _Original Letters of Falstaff_. Lamb, I believe, +first appeared as an author in the second edition of Coleridge's +_Poems_ (Bristol, 1797), and, secondly, in the little volume of blank +verse with Lloyd (1798). Lamb, Lloyd, and White were inseparable in +1798; the two latter at one time lodged together, though no two men +could be imagined more unlike each other. Lloyd had no drollery in his +nature; White seemed to have nothing else. You will easily understand +how Lamb could sympathize with both. + +Lloyd, who used to form sudden friendships, was all but a stranger +to me, when unexpectedly he brought Lamb down to visit me at a little +village (Burton) near Christchurch, in Hampshire, where I was lodging +in a very humble cottage. This was in the summer of 1797, and then, or +in the following year, my correspondence with Lamb began. I saw more +of him in 1802 than at any other time, for I was then six months +resident in London. His visit to this county was before I came to it; +it must have been either in that or in the following year: it was to +Lloyd and to Coleridge. + +I had forgotten one of his schoolfellows, who is still living--C.V. +Le Grice, a clergyman at or near Penzance. From him you might learn +something of his boyhood. + +Cottle has a good likeness of Lamb, in chalk, taken by an artist named +Robert Hancock, about the year 1798. It looks older than Lamb was at +that time; but he was old-looking. + +Coleridge introduced him to Godwin, shortly after the first number +of the _Anti-Jacobin Magazine and Review_ was published, with a +caricature of Gillray's, in which Coleridge and I were introduced with +asses' heads, and Lloyd and Lamb as toad and frog. Lamb got warmed +with whatever was on the table, became disputatious, and said things +to Godwin which made him quietly say, 'Pray, Mr. Lamb, are you toad +or frog?' Mrs. Coleridge will remember the scene, which was to her +sufficiently uncomfortable. But the next morning S.T.C. called on +Lamb, and found Godwin breakfasting with him, from which time their +intimacy began. + +His angry letter to me in the _Magazine_ arose out of a notion that +an expression of mine in the _Quarterly Review_ would hurt the sale of +_Elia_; some one, no doubt, had said that it would. I meant to serve +the book, and very well remember how the offence happened. I had +written that it wanted nothing to render it altogether delightful but +a _saner_ religious feeling. _This_ would have been the proper word if +any other person had written the book. Feeling its extreme unfitness +as soon as it was written, I altered it immediately for the first word +which came into my head, intending to remodel the sentence when it +should come to me in the proof; and that proof never came. There can +be no objection to your printing all that passed upon the occasion, +beginning with the passage in the _Quarterly Review_, and giving his +letter. + +I have heard Coleridge say that, in a fit of derangement, Lamb fancied +himself to be young Norval. He told me this in relation to one of his +poems. + +If you will print my lines to him upon his _Album Verses_, I will +send you a corrected copy. You received his letters, I trust, which +Cuthbert took with him to town in October. I wish they had been more, +and wish, also, that I had more to tell you concerning him, and what +I have told were of more value. But it is from such fragments of +recollection, and such imperfect notices, that the materials for +biography must, for the most part, be collected. + + + + +=CHARLES LAMB= + +1775-1834 + + + +TO SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE + +_Temporary frenzy_ + + +27 _May_, 1796. + +... Coleridge! I know not what suffering scenes you have gone through +at Bristol. My life has been somewhat diversified of late. The six +weeks that finished last year and began this, your very humble servant +spent very agreeably in a madhouse, at Hoxton. I am got somewhat +rational now, and don't bite anyone. But mad I was! And many a vagary +my imagination played with me, enough to make a volume, if all were +told. My sonnets I have extended to the number of nine since I saw +you, and will some day communicate to you. I am beginning a poem +in blank verse, which, if I finish, I publish.... Coleridge! it may +convince you of my regards for you when I tell you my head ran on you +in my madness, as much almost as on another person, who I am inclined +to think was the more immediate cause of my temporary frenzy. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A friend in need_ + + +_Thursday, 11 June_, 1796. + +... After all, you cannot, nor ever will, write anything with which I +shall be so delighted as what I have heard yourself repeat. You came +to town, and I saw you at a time when your heart was yet bleeding +with recent wounds. Like yourself, I was sore galled with disappointed +hope. You had + + --many an holy lay + That, mourning, soothed the mourner on his way; + +I had ears of sympathy to drink them in, and they yet vibrate pleasant +on the sense. When I read in your little volume your nineteenth +effusion, or the twenty-eighth or twenty-ninth, or what you call the +_Sigh_, I think I hear _you_ again. I image to myself the little smoky +room at the _Salutation and Cat_, where we have sat together through +the winter nights, beguiling the cares of life with Poesy. When you +left London, I felt a dismal void in my heart. I found myself cut off, +at one and the same time, from two most dear to me. 'How blest with +ye the path could I have trod of quiet life!' In your conversation you +had blended so many pleasant fancies that they cheated me of my grief. +But in your absence the tide of melancholy rushed in again, and did +its worst mischief by overwhelming my reason. I have recovered, but +feel a stupor that makes me indifferent to the hopes and fears of +this life. I sometimes wish to introduce a religious turn of mind, +but habits are strong things, and my religious fervours are confined, +alas! to some fleeting moments of occasional solitary devotion. A +correspondence, opening with you, has roused me a little from my +lethargy, and made me conscious of existence. Indulge me in it: I will +not be very troublesome! At some future time I will amuse you with +an account, as full as my memory will permit, of the strange turn my +frenzy took. I look back upon it at times with a gloomy kind of envy: +for, while it lasted, I had many, many hours of pure happiness. Dream +not, Coleridge, of having tasted all the grandeur and wildness of +fancy till you have gone mad! All now seems to me vapid, comparatively +so. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The tragedy_ + + +27 _Sept_. 1796. + +MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +White, or some of my friends, or the public papers, by this time may +have informed you of the terrible calamities that have fallen on +our family. I will only give you the outlines: My poor dear, dearest +sister, in a fit of insanity, has been the death of our own mother. I +was at hand only time enough to snatch the knife out of her grasp. She +is at present in a madhouse, from whence I fear she must be moved to +an hospital. God has preserved to me my senses; I eat, and drink, and +sleep, and have my judgement, I believe, very sound. My poor father +was slightly wounded, and I am left to take care of him and my aunt. +Mr. Norris, of the Bluecoat School, has been very kind to us, and we +have no other friend; but, thank God, I am very calm and composed, and +able to do the best that remains to do. Write as religious a letter as +possible, but no mention of what is gone and done with. With me 'the +former things are passed away', and I have something more to do than +to feel. + +God Almighty have us in His keeping! + +Mention nothing of poetry. I have destroyed every vestige of past +vanities of that kind. Do as you please, but if you publish, publish +mine (I give free leave) without name or initial, and never send me a +book, I charge you. + +Your own judgement will convince you not to take any notice of this +yet to your dear wife. You look after your family; I have reason +and strength left to take care of mine. I charge you, don't think of +coming to see me. Write. I will not see you if you come. God Almighty +love you and all of us! + + + +TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + +_The delights of London_ + + +30 _Jan_. 1801. + +I ought before this to have replied to your very kind invitation into +Cumberland. With you and your sister I could gang anywhere; but I am +afraid whether I shall ever be able to afford so desperate a journey. +Separate from the pleasure of your company, I don't much care if I +never see a mountain in my life. I have passed all my days in London, +until I have formed as many and intense local attachments as any of +you mountaineers can have done with dead Nature. The lighted shops of +the Strand and Fleet Street; the innumerable trades, tradesmen, and +customers, coaches, waggons, playhouses; all the bustle and wickedness +round about Covent Garden; the very women of the Town; the watchmen, +drunken scenes, rattles;--life awake, if you awake, at all hours of +the night; the crowds, the very dirt and mud, the sun shining upon +houses and pavements, the printshops, the old book-stalls, parsons +cheapening books, coffee-houses, steams of soups from kitchens, the +pantomimes--London itself a pantomime and a masquerade--all these +things work themselves into my mind, and feed me, without a power +of satiating me. The wonder of these sights impels me often into +night-walks about her crowded streets, and I often shed tears in the +motley Strand from fullness of joy at so much life. All these +emotions must be strange to you; so are your rural emotions to me. But +consider, what must I have been doing all my life, not to have lent +great portions of my heart with usury to such scenes? + +My attachments are all local, purely local. I have no passion (or have +had none since I was in love, and then it was the spurious engendering +of poetry and books) to groves and valleys. The rooms where I was +born, the furniture which has been before my eyes all my life, a +book-case which has followed me about like a faithful dog, (only +exceeding him in knowledge,) wherever I have moved, old chairs, +old tables, streets, squares, where I have sunned myself, my old +school,--these are my mistresses,--have I not enough, without your +mountains? I do not envy you. I should pity you, did I not know that +the mind will make friends of anything. Your sun, and moon, and skies, +and hills, and lakes, affect me no more, or scarcely come to me in +more venerable characters, than as a gilded room with tapestry and +tapers, where I might live with handsome visible objects. I consider +the clouds above me but as a roof beautifully painted, but unable to +satisfy the mind: and at last, like the pictures of the apartment of +a connoisseur, unable to afford him any longer a pleasure. So fading +upon me, from disuse, have been the beauties of Nature, as they have +been confinedly called; so ever fresh, and green, and warm are all the +inventions of men, and assemblies of men in this great city. I should +certainly have laughed with dear Joanna. + +Give my kindest love, and my sister's, to D. and yourself; and a kiss +from me to little Barbara Lewthwaite. Thank you for liking my play! + + + +TO THOMAS MANNING + +_At the Lakes_ + + +London, 24 _Sept_. 1802. + +My dear Manning, + +Since the date of my last letter I have been a traveller. A strong +desire seized me of visiting remote regions. My first impulse was to +go and see Paris. It was a trivial objection to my aspiring mind, that +I did not understand a word of the language, since I certainly intend +some time in my life to see Paris, and equally certainly intend never +to learn the language; therefore that could be no objection. However, +I am very glad I did not go, because you had left Paris (I see) before +I could have set out. I believe Stoddart promising to go with me +another year prevented that plan. My next scheme (for to my restless, +ambitious mind London was become a bed of thorns) was to visit the +far-famed peak in Derbyshire, where the Devil sits, they say, without +breeches. _This_ my purer mind rejected as indelicate. And my final +resolve was a tour to the Lakes. I set out with Mary to Keswick, +without giving Coleridge any notice, for my time, being precious, did +not admit of it. He received us with all the hospitality in the world, +and gave up his time to show us all the wonders of the country. He +dwells upon a small hill by the side of Keswick, in a comfortable +house, quite enveloped on all sides by a net of mountains: great +floundering bears and monsters they seemed, all couchant and asleep. +We got in in the evening, travelling in a post-chaise from Penrith, in +the midst of a gorgeous sunshine, which transmuted all the mountains +into colours, purple, &c., &c. We thought we had got into fairy-land. +But that went off (as it never came again; while we stayed we had no +more fine sunsets); and we entered Coleridge's comfortable study just +in the dusk, when the mountains were all dark with clouds upon their +heads. Such an impression I never received from objects of sight +before, nor do I suppose I can ever again. Glorious creatures, fine +old fellows, Skiddaw, &c. I shall never forget ye, how ye lay about +that night, like an intrenchment; gone to bed, as it seemed for the +night, but promising that ye were to be seen in the morning. Coleridge +had got a blazing fire in his study; which is a large, antique, +ill-shaped room, with an old-fashioned organ, never played upon, big +enough for a church, shelves of scattered folios, an Aeolian harp, and +an old sofa, half bed, &c. And all looking out upon the last fading +view of Skiddaw, and his broad-breasted brethren: what a night! Here +we stayed three full weeks, in which time I visited Wordsworth's +cottage, where we stayed a day or two with the Clarksons (good people, +and most hospitable, at whose house we tarried one day and night), and +saw Lloyd. The Wordsworths were gone to Calais. They have since been +in London, and passed much time with us: he is now gone into Yorkshire +to be married. So we have seen Keswick, Grasmere, Ambleside, Ulswater +(where the Clarksons live), and a place at the other end of Ulswater; +I forget the name; to which we travelled on a very sultry day, over +the middle of Helvellyn. We have clambered up to the top of Skiddaw, +and I have waded up the bed of Lodore. In fine, I have satisfied +myself that there is such a thing as that which tourists call +_romantic_, which I very much suspected before: they make such a +spluttering about it, and toss their splendid epithets around them, +till they give as dim a light as at four o'clock next morning the +lamps do after an illumination. Mary was excessively tired when she +got about half-way up Skiddaw, but we came to a cold rill (than which +nothing can be imagined more cold, running over cold stones), and with +the reinforcement of a draught of cold water, she surmounted it most +manfully. Oh, its fine black head, and the bleak air atop of it, with +a prospect of mountains all about and about, making you giddy; and +then Scotland afar off, and the border countries so famous in song and +ballad! It was a day that will stand out, like a mountain, I am sure, +in my life. But I am returned (I have now been come home near three +weeks; I was a month out), and you cannot conceive the degradation +I felt at first, from being accustomed to wander free as air among +mountains, and bathe in rivers without being controlled by any one, to +come home and _work_. I felt very _little_. I had been dreaming I was +a very great man. But that is going off, and I find I shall conform +in time to that state of life to which it has pleased God to call me. +Besides, after all, Fleet Street and the Strand are better places to +live in for good and all than amidst Skiddaw. Still, I turn back to +those great places where I wandered about, participating in their +greatness. After all, I could not _live_ in Skiddaw. I could spend +a year, two, three years among them, but I must have a prospect of +seeing Fleet Street at the end of that time, or I should mope and pine +away, I know. Still, Skiddaw is a fine creature. + +My habits are changing, I think, i.e. from drunk to sober. Whether +I shall be happier or not remains to be proved. I shall certainly be +more happy in a morning; but whether I shall not sacrifice the +fat, and the marrow, and the kidneys, i.e. the night, glorious, +care-drowning night, that heals all our wrongs, pours wine into our +mortifications, changes the scene from indifferent and flat to bright +and brilliant!--O Manning, if I should have formed a diabolical +resolution, by the time you come to England, of not admitting any +spirituous liquors into my house, will you be my guest on such +shame-worthy terms? Is life, with such limitations, worth trying? The +truth is, that my liquors bring a nest of friendly harpies about +my house, who consume me. This is a pitiful tale to be read at St. +Gothard, but it is just now nearest my heart. Fenwick is a ruined man. +He is hiding himself from his creditors, and has sent his wife and +children into the country. Fell, my other drunken companion (that has +been: _nam hic caestus artemque repono_), is turned editor of a Naval +Chronicle. Godwin continues a steady friend, though the same facility +does not remain of visiting him often. X. has detached Marshall from +his house; Marshall, the man who went to sleep when the _Ancient +Mariner_ was reading; the old, steady, unalterable friend of the +Professor. Holcraft is not yet come to town. I expect to see him, and +will deliver your message. Things come crowding in to say, and no +room for 'em. Some things are too little to be told, i.e. to have a +preference; some are too big and circumstantial. Thanks for yours, +which was most delicious. Would I had been with you, benighted, &c.! +I fear my head is turned with wandering. I shall never be the same +acquiescent being. Farewell. Write again quickly, for I shall not +like to hazard a letter, not knowing where the fates have carried you. +Farewell, my dear fellow. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_Dissuasion from Tartary_ + + +19 _Feb_. 1803. + +MY DEAR MANNING, + +The general scope of your letter afforded no indications of insanity, +but some particular points raised a scruple. For God's sake don't +think any more of 'Independent Tartary'. What are you to do among such +Ethiopians? Is there no _lineal descendant_ of Prester John? Is the +chair empty? Is the sword unswayed?--depend upon it they'll never +make you their king, as long as any branch of that great stock +is remaining. I tremble for your Christianity.... Read Sir John +Mandeville's Travels to cure you, or come over to England. There is +a Tartar-man now exhibiting at Exeter Change. Come and talk with him, +and hear what he says first. Indeed, he is no very favourable specimen +of his countrymen! But perhaps the best thing you can do, is to _try_ +to get the idea out of your head. For this purpose repeat to yourself +every night, after you have said your prayers, the words, Independent +Tartary, Independent Tartary, two or three times, and associate with +them the _idea_ of _oblivion_ ('tis Hartley's method with obstinate +memories), or say, Independent, Independent, have I not already got +an _independence_? That was a clever way of the old Puritans, +pun-divinity. My dear friend, think what a sad pity it would be to +bury such _parts_ in heathen countries, among nasty, unconversable, +horse-belching, Tartar-people! Some say they are Cannibals; and then, +conceive a Tartar-fellow _eating_ my friend, and adding the _cool +malignity_ of mustard and vinegar! I am afraid 'tis the reading of +Chaucer has misled you; his foolish stories about Cambuscan, and the +ring, and the horse of brass. Believe me, there are no such things, +'tis all the poet's _invention_; but if there were such darling things +as old Chaucer sings, I would _up_ behind you on the horse of brass, +and frisk off for Prester John's country. But these are all tales; +a horse of brass never flew, and a king's daughter never talked with +birds! The Tartars, really, are a cold, insipid, smouchy set. You'll +be sadly moped (if you are not eaten) among them. Pray _try_ and cure +yourself. Take hellebore (the counsel is Horace's, 'twas none of my +thought _originally_). Shave yourself oftener. Eat no saffron, for +saffron-eaters contract a terrible Tartar-like yellow. Pray, to avoid +the fiend. Eat nothing that gives the heart-burn. _Shave the upper_ +_lip_. Go about like an European. Read no books of voyages (they are +nothing but lies), only now and then a romance, to keep the fancy +_under_. Above all, don't go to any sights of _wild beasts. That +has been your ruin_. Accustom yourself to write familiar letters, on +common subjects, to your friends in England, such as are of a moderate +understanding. And think about common things more.... I supped last +night with Rickman, and met a merry _natural_ captain, who pleases +himself vastly with once having made a pun at Otaheite in the O. +language. 'Tis the same man who said Shakespeare he liked, because +he was so _much of the gentleman_. Rickman is a man 'absolute in all +numbers'. I think I may one day bring you acquainted, if you do not +go to Tartary first; for you'll never come back. Have a care, my dear +friend, of Anthropophagi! their stomachs are always craving. 'Tis +terrible to be weighed out at five pence a-pound. To sit at table (the +reverse of fishes in Holland), not as a guest, but as a meat. + +God bless you: do come to England. Air and exercise may do great +things. Talk with some minister. Why not your father? + +God dispose all for the best. I have discharged my duty. + + + +To MRS. WORDSWORTH + +_Friends' importunities_ + + +East India House, 18 _Feb_. 1818. + +MY DEAR MRS. WORDSWORTH, + +I have repeatedly taken pen in hand to answer your kind letter. My +sister should more properly have done it, but she having failed, I +consider myself answerable for her debts. I am now trying to do it +in the midst of commercial noises, and with a quill which seems more +ready to glide into arithmetical figures and names of gourds, cassia, +cardemoms, aloes, ginger, or tea, than into kindly responses and +friendly recollections. The reason why I cannot write letters at home, +is, that I am never alone. Plato's--(I write to W.W. now)--Plato's +double-animal parted never longed more to be reciprocally re-united in +the system of its first creation, than I sometimes do to be but for +a moment single and separate. Except my morning's walk to the office, +which is like treading on sands of gold for that reason, I am never +so. I cannot walk home from office but some officious friend offers +his unwelcome courtesies to accompany me. All the morning I am +pestered. I could sit and gravely cast up sums in great books, or +compare sum with sum, and write 'paid' against this, and 'unpaid' +against t'other, and yet reserve in some corner of my mind 'some +darling thoughts all my own',--faint memory of some passage in a book, +or the tone of an absent friend's voice--a snatch of Miss Burrell's +singing, or a gleam of Fanny Kelly's divine plain face. The two +operations might be going on at the same time without thwarting, as +the sun's two motions (earth's, I mean), or, as I sometimes turn +round till I am giddy, in my back parlour, while my sister is walking +longitudinally in the front; or, as the shoulder of veal twists round +with the spit, while the smoke wreathes up the chimney. But there are +a set of amateurs of the Belles Lettres--the gay science--who come to +me as a sort of rendezvous, putting questions of criticism, of British +Institutions, Lalla Rookhs, &c.--what Coleridge said at the lecture +last night--who have the form of reading men, but, for any possible +use reading can be to them, but to talk of, might as well have been +Ante-Cadmeans born, or have lain sucking out the sense of an Egyptian +hieroglyph as long as the pyramids will last, before they should +find it. These pests worrit me at business, and in all its intervals, +perplexing my accounts, poisoning my little salutary warming-time at +the fire, puzzling my paragraphs if I take a newspaper, cramming in +between my own free thoughts and a column of figures, which had come +to an amicable compromise but for them. Their noise ended, one of +them, as I said, accompanies me home, lest I should be solitary for +a moment; he at length takes his welcome leave at the door; up I go, +mutton on table, hungry as hunter, hope to forget my cares, and bury +them in the agreeable abstraction of mastication; knock at the door, +in comes Mr. ----, or Mr. ----, or Demi-gorgon, or my brother, or +somebody, to prevent my eating alone--a process absolutely +necessary to my poor wretched digestion. O, the pleasure of eating +alone!--eating my dinner alone! let me think of it. But in they +come, and make it absolutely necessary that I should open a bottle of +orange--for my meat turns into stone when anyone dines with me, if I +have not wine. Wine can mollify stones; then _that_ wine turns into +acidity, acerbity, misanthropy, a hatred of my interrupters--(God +bless 'em! I love some of 'em dearly), and with the hatred, a still +greater aversion to their going away. Bad is the dead sea they bring +upon me, choking and deadening, but worse is the deader dry sand they +leave me on, if they go before bed-time. Come never, I would say to +these spoilers of my dinner; but if you come, never go! The fact is, +this interruption does not happen very often; but every time it comes +by surprise, that present bane of my life, orange wine, with all its +dreary stifling consequences, follows. Evening company I should always +like had I any mornings, but I am saturated with human faces (_divine_ +forsooth!) and voices all the golden morning; and five evenings in a +week would be as much as I should covet to be in company, but I +assure you that is a wonderful week in which I can get two, or one, to +myself. I am never C.L., but always C.L. & Co. He who thought it +not good for man to be alone, preserve me from the more prodigious +monstrosity of being never by myself! I forget bed-time, but even +there these sociable frogs clamber up to annoy me. Once a week, +generally some singular evening that, being alone, I go to bed at the +hour I ought always to be a-bed; just close to my bed-room window is +the club-room of a public-house, where a set of singers, I take them +to be chorus singers of the two theatres (it must be _both of them_), +begin their orgies. They are a set of fellows (as I conceive) who, +being limited by their talents to the burthen of the song at the +play-houses, in revenge have got the common popular airs by Bishop, or +some cheap composer, arranged for choruses, that is, to be sung all in +chorus. At least, I never can catch any of the text of the plain song, +nothing but the Babylonish choral howl at the tail on't. 'That fury +being quench'd'--the howl I mean--a burden succeeds of shouts and +clapping, and knocking of the table. At length overtasked nature drops +under it, and escapes for a few hours into the society of the sweet +silent creatures of dreams, which go away with mocks and mows at +cockcrow. And then I think of the words Christabel's father used +(bless me, I have dipt in the wrong ink!) to say every morning by way +of variety when he awoke: + + Every knell, the Baron saith, + Wakes us up to a world of death-- + +or something like it. All I mean by this senseless interrupted tale, +is, that by my central situation I am a little over-companied. Not +that I have any animosity against the good creatures that are so +anxious to drive away the harpy solitude from me. I like 'em, and +cards, and a cheerful glass; but I mean merely to give you an idea +between office confinement and after-office society, how little time +I can call my own. I mean only to draw a picture, not to make an +inference. I would not that I know of have it otherwise. I only wish +sometimes I could exchange some of my faces and voices for the faces +and voices which a late visitation brought most welcome, and carried +away, leaving regret, but more pleasure, even a kind of gratitude, at +being so often favoured with that kind northern visitation. My London +faces and noises don't hear me--I mean no disrespect, or I should +explain myself, that instead of their return 220 times a year, and +the return of W.W., &c., seven times in 104 weeks, some more equal +distribution might be found. I have scarce room to put in Mary's kind +love, and my poor name ...--goes on lecturing.... I mean to hear some +of the course, but lectures are not much to my taste, whatever the +lecturer may be. If _read_, they are dismal flat, and you can't think +why you are brought together to hear a man read his works, which you +could read so much better at leisure yourself; if delivered extempore, +I am always in pain, lest the gift of utterance should suddenly fail +the orator in the middle, as it did me at the dinner given in honour +of me at the London Tavern. 'Gentlemen,' said I, and there I stopped; +the rest my feelings were under the necessity of supplying. Mrs. +Wordsworth _will_ go on, kindly haunting us with visions of seeing the +lakes once more, which never can be realised. Between us there is a +great gulf, not of inexplicable moral antipathies and distances, I +hope, as there seemed to be between me and that gentleman concerned +in the Stamp Office, that I so strangely recoiled from at Haydon's. I +think I had an instinct that he was the head of an office. I hate all +such people--accountants' deputy accountants. The dear abstract notion +of the East India Company, as long as she is unseen, is pretty, rather +poetical; but as she makes herself manifest by the persons of such +beasts, I loathe and detest her as the scarlet what-do-you-call-her +of Babylon. I thought, after abridging us of all our red-letter days, +they had done their worst; but I was deceived in the length to which +heads of offices, those true liberty-haters, can go. They are the +tyrants; not Ferdinand, nor Nero. By a decree passed this week, they +have abridged us of the immemorially-observed custom of going at one +o'clock of a Saturday, the little shadow of a holiday left us. Dear +W.W., be thankful for liberty. + + + +To SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE + +_The famous pigling_ + + +9 _March_, 1822. + +DEAR COLERIDGE, + +It gives me great satisfaction to hear that the pig turned out so +well: they are such interesting creatures at a certain age. What a +pity such buds should blow out into the maturity of rank bacon! You +had all some of the crackling and brain sauce. Did you remember to rub +it with butter, and gently dredge it a little, just before the crisis? +Did the eyes come away kindly with no Oedipean avulsion? Was the +crackling the colour of the ripe pomegranate? Had you no complement of +boiled neck of mutton before it, to blunt the edge of delicate desire? +Did you flesh maiden teeth in it? Not that _I_ sent the pig, or can +form the remotest guess what part Owen could play in the business. I +never knew him give anything away in my life. He would not begin with +strangers. I suspect the pig, after all, was meant for me; but at the +unlucky juncture of time being absent, the present somehow went round +to Highgate. To confess an honest truth, a pig is one of those things +which I could never think of sending away. Teal, widgeon, snipes, +barn-door fowls, ducks, geese--your tame villatic things--Welsh +mutton, collars of brawn, sturgeon, fresh or pickled, your potted +char, Swiss cheeses, French pies, early grapes, muscadines, I impart +as freely unto my friends as to myself. They are but self extended, +but pardon me if I stop somewhere. Where the fine feeling of +benevolence giveth a higher smack than the sensual rarity, there my +friends (or any good man) may command me; but pigs are pigs, and +I myself therein am nearest to myself. Nay, I should think it an +affront, an undervaluing done to Nature who bestowed such a boon upon +me, if in a churlish mood I parted with the precious gift. One of the +bitterest pangs of remorse I ever felt was when a child--when my kind +old aunt had strained her pocket-strings to bestow a sixpenny +whole plum-cake upon me. In my way home through the Borough I met a +venerable old man, not a mendicant, but thereabouts; a look-beggar, +not a verbal petitionist; and in the coxcombry of taught charity I +gave away the cake to him. I walked on a little in all the pride of an +Evangelical peacock, when of a sudden my old aunt's kindness crossed +me; the sum it was to her; the pleasure she had a right to expect +that I--not the old impostor--should take in eating her cake; the +ingratitude by which, under the colour of a Christian virtue, I had +frustrated her cherished purpose. I sobbed, wept, and took it to +heart so grievously, that I think I never suffered the like; and I was +right. It was a piece of unfeeling hypocrisy, and it proved a lesson +to me ever after. The cake has long been masticated, consigned to +the dunghill with the ashes of that unseasonable pauper. But when +Providence, who is better to us than all our aunts, gives me a pig, +remembering my temptation and my fall, I shall endeavour to act +towards it more in the spirit of the donor's purpose. + +Yours (short of pig) to command in every thing. + + + +To BERNARD BARTON + +_A blessing in disguise_ + + +9 _Jan_. 1823. + +'Throw yourself on the world without any rational plan of support, +beyond what the chance employ of booksellers would afford you'!!! + +Throw yourself rather, my dear sir, from the steep Tarpeian rock, +slap-dash headlong upon iron spikes. If you have but five consolatory +minutes between the desk and the bed, make much of them, and live a +century in them, rather than turn slave to the booksellers. They are +Turks and Tartars when they have poor authors at their beck. Hitherto +you have been at arm's length from them. Come not within their grasp. +I have known many authors want for bread, some repining, others +envying the blessed security of a counting-house, all agreeing they +had rather have been tailors, weavers--what not? rather than the +things they were. I have known some starved, some to go mad, one dear +friend literally dying in a workhouse. You know not what a rapacious, +dishonest set these booksellers are. Ask even Southey, who (a single +case almost) has made a fortune by book-drudgery, what he has found +them. Oh, you know not, may you never know, the miseries of subsisting +by authorship! 'Tis a pretty appendage to a situation like yours or +mine; but a slavery, worse than all slavery, to be a bookseller's +dependant, to drudge your brains for pots of ale, and breasts of +mutton, _to change your_ FREE THOUGHTS _and_ VOLUNTARY NUMBERS _for +ungracious_ TASK-WORK. Those fellows hate _us_. The reason I take to +be, that contrary to other trades, in which the master gets all the +credit (a jeweller or silversmith for instance,) and the journeyman, +who really does the fine work, is in the background: in _our_ work +the world gives all the credit to us, whom _they_ consider as _their_ +journeymen, and therefore do they hate us, and cheat us, and oppress +us, and would wring the blood of us out, to put another sixpence in +their mechanic pouches!... + +Keep to your bank, and the bank will keep you. Trust not to the +public; you may hang, starve, drown yourself, for anything that worthy +_personage_ cares. I bless every star, that Providence, not seeing +good to make me independent, has seen it next good to settle me upon +the stable foundation of Leadenhall. Sit down, good B.B., in the +banking-office: what! is there not from six to eleven p.m. six days +in the week, and is there not all Sunday? Fie, what a superfluity +of man's time, if you could think so! Enough for relaxation, mirth, +converse, poetry, good thoughts, quiet thoughts. O the corroding, +torturing, tormenting thoughts, that disturb the brain of the unlucky +wight who must draw upon it for daily sustenance! Henceforth I retract +all my fond complaints of mercantile employment; look upon them as +lover's quarrels. I was but half in earnest. Welcome dead timber +of the desk, that makes me live. A little grumbling is a wholesome +medicine for the spleen, but in my inner heart do I approve and +embrace this our close, but unharassing way of life. I am quite +serious. If you can send me Fox, I will not keep it _six weeks_, and +will return it, with warm thanks to yourself and friend, without blot +or dog's-ear. You will much oblige me by this kindness. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_A cold_ + + +9 _Jan_. 1824. + +DEAR B.B., + +Do you know what it is to succumb under an insurmountable +day-mare,--'a whoreson lethargy', Falstaff calls it,--an indisposition +to do anything, or to be anything,--a total deadness and distaste,--a +suspension of vitality,--an indifference to locality,--a numb, +soporifical, good-for-nothingness,--an ossification all over,--an +oyster-like insensibility to the passing events,--a mind-stupor,--a +brawny defiance to the needles of a thrusting-in conscience? Did you +ever have a very bad cold, with a total irresolution to submit to +water-gruel processes? This has been for many weeks my lot, and my +excuse; my fingers drag heavily over this paper, and to my thinking it +is three-and-twenty furlongs from here to the end of this demi-sheet. +I have not a thing to say; no thing is of more importance than +another; I am flatter than a denial or a pancake; emptier than Judge +----'s wig when the head is in it; duller than a country stage when +the actors are off it; a cipher, an O! I acknowledge life at all, only +by an occasional convulsional cough, and a permanent phlegmatic pain +in the chest. I am weary of the world; life is weary of me. My day is +gone into twilight, and I don't think it worth the expense of candles. +My wick hath a thief in it, but I can't muster courage to snuff it. +I inhale suffocation; I can't distinguish veal from mutton; nothing +interests me. 'Tis twelve o'clock, and Thurtell is just now coming out +upon the New Drop, Jack Ketch alertly tucking up his greasy sleeves +to do the last office of mortality, yet cannot I elicit a groan or +a moral reflection. If you told me the world will be at an end +to-morrow, I should just say, 'Will it?' I have not volition enough +left to dot my _i's_, much less to comb my eyebrows; my eyes are +set in my head; my brains are gone out to see a poor relation in +Moorflelds, and they did not say when they'd come back again; my skull +is a Grub Street attic to let--not so much as a joint stool left in +it; my hand writes, not I, from habit, as chickens run about a +little, when their heads are off. O for a vigorous fit of gout, colic, +toothache,--an earwig in my auditory, a fly in my visual organs; pain +is life--the sharper, the more evidence of life; but this apathy, this +death! Did you ever have an obstinate cold,--a six or seven weeks' +unintermitting chill and suspension of hope, fear, conscience, and +every thing? Yet do I try all I can to cure it; I try wine, and +spirits, and smoking, and snuff in unsparing quantities, but they all +only seem to make me worse instead of better. I sleep in a damp room, +but it does me no good; I come home late o' nights, but do not find +any visible amendment!... + +It is just fifteen minutes after twelve; Thurtell is by this time +a good way on his journey, baiting at Scorpion perhaps; Ketch is +bargaining for his cast coat and waistcoat; the Jew demurs at first at +three half-crowns, but, on consideration that he may get somewhat by +showing 'em in the town, finally closes. + + + + +WILLIAM HAZLITT + +1778-1830 + + + +To Miss Sarah Stoddart + +_A love-letter_ + + +Tuesday night [_Jan._ 1808]. + +MY DEAR LOVE, + +Above a week has passed, and I have received no letter--not one of +those letters 'in which I live, or have no life at all'. What is +become of you? Are you married, hearing that I was dead (for so it has +been reported)? Or are you gone into a nunnery? Or are you fallen in +love with some of the amorous heroes of Boccaccio? Which of them is +it? Is it with Chynon, who was transformed from a clown into a lover, +and learned to spell by the force of beauty? Or with Lorenzo, the +lover of Isabella, whom her three brethren hated (as your brother does +me), who was a merchant's clerk? Or with Federigo Alberigi, an honest +gentleman, who ran through his fortune, and won his mistress by +cooking a fair falcon for her dinner, though it was the only means he +had left of getting a dinner for himself? This last is the man; and +I am the more persuaded of it, because I think I won your good liking +myself by giving you an entertainment--of sausages, when I had no +money to buy them with. Nay now, never deny it! Did I not ask your +consent that very night after, and did you not give it? Well, I should +be confoundedly jealous of those fine gallants, if I did not know that +a living dog is better than a dead lion; though, now I think of it, +Boccaccio does not in general make much of his lovers: it is his women +who are so delicious. I almost wish I had lived in those times, and +had been a little _more amiable_. Now if a woman had written the book, +it would not have had this effect upon me: the men would have been +heroes and angels, and the women nothing at all. Isn't there some +truth in that? Talking of departed loves, I met my old flame the other +day in the street. I did dream of her _one_ night since, and only one: +every other night I have had the same dream I have had for these two +months past. Now, if you are at all reasonable, this will satisfy you. + +_Thursday morning_. The book is come. When I saw it I thought you had +sent it back in a _huff_, tired out by my sauciness, and _coldness_, +and delays, and were going to keep an account of dimities and sayes, +or to salt pork and chronicle small beer as the dutiful wife of some +fresh-looking, rural swain; so that you cannot think how surprised +and pleased I was to find them all done. I liked your note as well or +better than the extracts; it is just such a note as such a nice rogue +as you ought to write after the _provocation_ you had received. I +would not give a pin for a girl 'whose cheeks never tingle', nor for +myself if I could not make them tingle sometimes. Now, though I am +always writing to you about 'lips and noses', and such sort of stuff, +yet as I sit by my fireside (which I do generally eight or ten hours a +day), I oftener think of you in a serious, sober light. For, indeed, +I never love you so well as when I think of sitting down with you to +dinner on a boiled scrag-end of mutton, and hot potatoes. You please +my fancy more then than when I think of you in--no, you would never +forgive me if I were to finish the sentence. Now I think of it, what +do you mean to be dressed in when we are married? But it does not much +matter! I wish you would let your hair grow; though perhaps nothing +will be better than 'the same air and look with which at first my +heart was took'. But now to business. I mean soon to call upon your +brother _in form_, namely, as soon as I get quite well, which I hope +to do in about another _fortnight_; and then I hope you will come up +by the coach as fast as the horses can carry you, for I long mightily +to be in your ladyship's presence--to vindicate my character. I think +you had better sell the small house, I mean that at 4.10, and I will +borrow L100. So that we shall set off merrily in spite of all the +prudence of Edinburgh. Goodbye, little dear! + + + +TO HIS SON + +_Marriage, and the choice of a profession_ + + +[1822.] + +... If you ever marry, I would wish you to marry the woman you like. +Do not be guided by the recommendations of friends. Nothing will +atone for or overcome an original distaste. It will only increase from +intimacy; and if you are to live separate, it is better not to come +together. There is no use in dragging a chain through life, unless +it binds one to the object we love. Choose a mistress from among your +equals. You will be able to understand her character better, and she +will be more likely to understand yours. Those in an inferior station +to yourself will doubt your good intentions, and misapprehend your +plainest expressions. All that you swear is to them a riddle or +downright nonsense. You cannot by any possibility translate your +thoughts into their dialect. They will be ignorant of the meaning of +half you say, and laugh at the rest. As mistresses, they will have no +sympathy with you; and as wives, you can have none with them. + +Women care nothing about poets, or philosophers, or politicians. They +go by a man's looks and manner. Richardson calls them 'an eye-judging +sex'; and I am sure he knew more about them than I can pretend to do. +If you run away with a pedantic notion that they care a pin's point +about your head or your heart, you will repent it too late.... + +If I were to name one pursuit rather than another, I should wish you +to be a good painter, if such a thing could be hoped. I have failed in +this myself, and should wish you to be able to do what I have not--to +paint like Claude, or Rembrandt, or Guido, or Vandyke, if it were +possible. Artists, I think, who have succeeded in their chief object, +live to be old, and are agreeable old men. Their minds keep alive +to the last. Cosway's spirits never flagged till after ninety; and +Nollekens, though nearly blind, passed all his mornings in giving +directions about some group or bust in his workshop. You have seen Mr. +Northcote, that delightful specimen of the last age. With what avidity +he takes up his pencil, or lays it down again to talk of numberless +things! His eye has not lost its lustre, nor 'paled its ineffectual +fire'. His body is but a shadow: he himself is a pure spirit. There is +a kind of immortality about this sort of ideal and visionary existence +that dallies with Fate and baffles the grim monster, Death. If I +thought you could make as clever an artist, and arrive at such an +agreeable old age as Mr. Northcote, I should declare at once for your +devoting yourself to this enchanting profession; and in that reliance, +should feel less regret at some of my own disappointments, and little +anxiety on your account! + + + +To CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE + +_The Life of Napoleon_ + + +7 _Dec_. [1827]. + +DEAR SIR, + +I thought all the world agreed with me at present that Buonaparte was +better than the Bourbons, or that a tyrant was better than tyranny. +In my opinion, no one of an understanding above the rank of a lady's +waiting-maid could ever have doubted this, though I alone said it ten +years ago. It might be impolicy then and now for what I know, for the +world stick to an opinion in appearance long after they have given it +up in reality. I should like to know whether the preface is thought +impolitic by some one who agrees with me in the main point, or by some +one who differs with me and makes this excuse not to have his opinion +contradicted? In Paris (_jubes regina renovare dolorem_) the preface +was thought a masterpiece, the best and only possible defence of +Buonaparte, and quite new _there_! It would be an impertinence in me +to write a Life of Buonaparte after Sir W. without some such object as +that expressed in the preface. After all, I do not care a _damn_ about +the preface. It will get me on four pages somewhere else. Shall I +retract my opinion altogether, and forswear my own book? Rayner is +right to cry out: I think I have tipped him fair and foul copy, a lean +rabbit and a fat one. The remainder of vol. ii will be ready to go on +with, but not the beginning of the third. The appendixes had better +be at the end of the second vol. Pray get them if you can: you have my +Sieyes, have you not? One of them is there. I have been nearly in the +other world. My regret was 'to die and leave the world "rough" copy'. +Otherwise I had thought of an epitaph and a good end. Hic jacent +reliquiae mortales Gulielmi Hazlitt, auctoris non intelligibilis: +natus Maidstoniae in comi [ta] tu Cantiae, Apr. 10, 1778. Obiit +Winterslowe, Dec., 1827. I think of writing an epistle to C. Lamb, +Esq., to say that I have passed near the shadowy world, and have had +new impressions of the vanity of this, with hopes of a better. Don't +you think this would be good policy? Don't mention it to the severe +author of the '_Press_', a poem, but me thinks the idea _arridet_ +Hone. He would give sixpence to see me floating, upon a pair of +borrowed wings, half way between heaven and earth, and edifying +the good people at my departure, whom I shall only scandalize by +remaining. At present my study and contemplation is the leg of a +stewed fowl. I have behaved like a saint, and been obedient to orders. + +_Non fit pugil_, &c., I got a violent spasm by walking fifteen miles +in the mud, and getting into a coach with an old lady who would have +the window open. Delicacy, moderation, complaisance, the _suaviter in +modo_, whisper it about, my dear Clarke, these are my faults and have +been my ruin. + + + + +LEIGH HUNT + +1784-1859 + + + +To JOSEPH SEVERN + +_A belated letter_[1] + + +Vale of Health, Hampstead, 8 _March_, 1821 + +DEAR SEVERN, + +You have concluded, of course, that I have sent no letters to Rome, +because I was aware of the effect they would have on Keats's mind; and +this is the principal cause; for, besides what I have been told about +letters in Italy, I remember his telling me upon one occasion that, in +his sick moments, he never wished to receive another letter, or ever +to see another face, however friendly. But still I should have written +to you, had I not been almost at death's door myself. You will imagine +how ill I have been, when you hear that I have but just begun writing +again for the _Examiner_ and _Indicator_, after an interval of +several months, during which my flesh wasted from me with sickness +and melancholy. Judge how often I thought of Keats, and with what +feelings. Mr. Brown tells me he is comparatively calm now, or rather +quite so. If he can bear to hear of us, pray tell him; but he knows it +already, and can put it in better language than any man. I hear that +he does not like to be told that he may get better; nor is it to +be wondered at, considering his firm persuasion that he shall not +survive. He can only regard it as a puerile thing, and an insinuation +that he shall die. But if his persuasion should happen to be no longer +so strong, or if he can now put up with attempts to console him, of +what I have said a thousand times, and what I still (upon my honour) +think always, that I have seen too many instances of recovery from +apparently desperate cases of consumption not to be in hope to the +very last. If he still cannot bear this, tell him--tell that great +poet and noble-hearted man--that we shall all bear his memory in the +most precious part of our hearts, and that the world shall bow their +heads to it, as our loves do. Or if this, again, will trouble his +spirit, tell him that we shall never cease to remember and love him; +and that, Christian or infidel, the most sceptical of us has faith +enough in the high things that nature puts into our heads, to think +all who are of one accord in mind or heart are journeying to one and +the same place, and shall unite somewhere or other again, face to +face, mutually conscious, mutually delighted. Tell him he is only +before us on the road, as he is in everything else; or, whether you +tell him the latter or no, tell him the former, and add that we shall +never forget that he was so, and that we are coming after him. The +tears are again in my eyes, and I must not afford to shed them. The +next letter I write shall be more to yourself, and more refreshing to +your spirits, which we are very sensible must have been greatly taxed. +But whether your friend dies or not, it will not be among the least +lofty of your recollections by-and-by that you helped to smooth the +sick-bed of so fine a being. God bless you, dear Severn. + +[Footnote 1: Keats died in February.] + + + +To PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +_Outpourings of gratitude_ + + +Stonehouse, near Plymouth, 26 _March_, 1822. + +MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +Your letters always contain something delightful to me, whatever news +they bring. + + Surgit _amici_ aliquid, quod in ipsis _nubibus_ + _ardet_. + +But I confess your latter ones have greatly relieved me on the subject +you speak of. They only make me long, with an extreme Homeric longing, +to be at Pisa,--I mean such an one as Achilles felt when he longed to +be with his father,--sharp in his very limbs. We have secured a ship, +the _David Walter_, which will call for us here, and sets sail +from London in a fortnight. I have written by to-day's post with +intelligence of it to Mrs. Fletcher, enclosing her the letter, and +giving her the option of going on board in London, or here. I need not +say we shall attend to her comforts in every respect. The same post +also carries a letter to Mr. Gisborne, stating your wishes, and +wonders respecting _Adonais_. If it is not published before I leave +England, I will publish my criticism upon the Pisa copy,--a criticism +which I think you will like. I take the opportunity of showing the +public why Gifford's review spoke so bitterly of _Prometheus_, and +why it pretends that the most metaphysical passage of your most +metaphysical poem is a specimen of the clearness of your general +style. The wretched priest-like cunning and undertoned malignity of +that review of _Prometheus_ is indeed a homage paid to qualities which +can so provoke it. The _Quarterly_ pretends now, that it never meddles +with you personally,--of course it never did! For this, _Blackwood_ +cries out upon it, contrasting its behaviour in those delicate matters +with its own! This is better and better, and the public seem to think +so; for these things, depend upon it, are getting better understood +every day, and shall be better and better understood every day to +come. One circumstance which helps to reconcile me to having been +detained on this coast, is the opportunity it has given me to make +your works speak for themselves wherever I could; and you are in high +lustre, I assure you, with the most intelligent circles in Plymouth, +[Greek: astaer epsos]. I have, indeed, been astonished to find +how well prepared people of intelligence are to fall in with your +aspirations, and despise the mistakes and rascally instincts of your +calumniators. This place, for instance, abounds in _schoolmasters_, +who appear, to a man, to be liberal to an extreme and esoterical +degree. And such, there is reason to believe, is the case over the +greater part of the kingdom, greatly, no doubt, owing to political +causes. Think of the consequences of this with the rising generation. +I delight in _Adonais_. It is the most Delphic poetry I have seen +a long while; full of those embodyings of the most subtle and airy +imaginations,--those arrestings and explanations of the most shadowy +yearnings of our being--which are the most difficult of all things +to put into words, and the most delightful when put. I do not know +whether you are aware how fond I am of your song on the Skylark; but +you ought, if Ollier sent you a copy of the enlarged _Calendar_ +_of Nature_, which he published separately under the title of the +_Months_. I tell you this, because I have not done half or a twentieth +part of what I ought to have done to make your writings properly +appreciated. But I intended to do more every day, and now that I am +coming to you, I shall be _totus_ in you and yours! For all good, and +healthy, and industrious things, I will do such wonders, that I shall +begin to believe I make some remote approach to something like a +return for your kindness. Yet how can that be? At all events, I hope +we shall all be the better for one another's society. Marianne, poor +dear girl, is still very ailing and weak, but stronger upon the whole, +she thinks, than when she first left London, and quite prepared and +happy to set off on her spring voyage. She sends you part of her best +love. I told her I supposed I must answer Marina's letter for her, but +she is quite grand on the occasion, and vows she will do it herself, +which, I assure you, will be the first time she has written a letter +for many months. Ask Marina if she will be charitable, and write one +to me. I will undertake to answer it with one double as long. But what +am I talking about, when the captain speaks of sailing in a fortnight? +I was led astray by her delightful letter to Marianne about walks, and +duets, and violets, and ladies like violets. Am I indeed to see and +be in the midst of all these beautiful things, ladies like lilies not +excepted? And do the men in Italy really leave ladies to walk in those +very amiable dry ditches by themselves? Oh! for a few strides, like +those of Neptune, when he went from some place to some other place, +and 'did it in three!' Dear Shelley, I am glad my letter to Lord B. +pleased you, though I do not know why you should so thank me for it. +But you are ingenious in inventing claims for me upon your affection. + + + +To HORACE SMITH + +_Shelley's death_ + + +Pisa, 25 _July_, 1822. + +Dear Horace, + +I trust that the first news of the dreadful calamity which has +befallen us here will have been broken to you by report, otherwise I +shall come upon you with a most painful abruptness; but Shelley, my +divine-minded friend, your friend, the friend of the universe, he has +perished at sea. He was in a boat with his friend Captain Williams, +going from Leghorn to Lerici, when a storm arose, and it is supposed +the boat must have foundered. It was on the 8th instant, about four +or five in the evening, they guess. A fisherman says he saw the boat +a few minutes before it went down: he looked again and it was gone. He +saw the boy they had with them aloft furling one of the sails. We hope +his story is true, as their passage from life to death will then have +been short; and what adds to the hope is, that in S's pocket (for the +bodies were both thrown on shore some days afterwards,--conceive our +horrible certainty, after trying all we could to hope!) a copy of +Keats's last volume, which he had borrowed of me to read on his +passage, was found _open_ and doubled back as if it had been thrust +in, in the hurry of a surprise. God bless him! I cannot help thinking +of him as if he were alive as much as ever, so unearthly he always +appeared to me, and so seraphical a thing of the elements; and this +is what all his friends say. But what we all feel, your own heart will +tell you.... + +It has been often feared that Shelley and Captain Williams would meet +with some accident, they were so hazardous; but when they set out on +the 8th, in the morning it was fine. Our dear friend was passionately +fond of the sea, and has been heard to say he should like it to be his +death-bed.... + + + +To MRS. PROCTER + +_Accepting an invitation_ + + +5 York Buildings, 13 _March_ [1831]. + +MY DEAR MRS. PROCTER (for Madam, somehow, is + not the thing), + +I am most pleased to be reminded of my promise, which I must have made +if you say I did. I suppose I have been coming to keep it ever since; +but it is a long road from sorrow to joy, and one is apt to get +confused on the road. Do you know your letter brought the tears into +my eyes? I hardly know why, unless it was that I saw Procter had been +pouring his kind heart into yours, and you said:--'We must have him +here instead of the coffee-house, and plant him by the fire, and warm +him like a stray bird till he sings.' But indeed a kind word affects +me where many a hard thump does not. Nevertheless, you must not tell +this, except to the very masculine or feminine; though if you do not +take it as a compliment to yourself,--I mean the confession of +my weakness,--why, you are not Procter's wife, nor Mrs. Montagu's +daughter, nor she who wrote the letter this morning to a poor battered +author. + +PS. I eat any plain joint, of the plainer order, beef or mutton:--and +you know I care for nothing at dinner, so that it does not hurt me. +Friends' company is the thing. + + + +To A FRIEND + +_Offence and punishment_ + + +Wimbledon, 11 and 12 _August_, 1846. + +... I find I made a great confusion of my _portion_ of the legal +expenses incurred by the _Examiner_, with the _whole_ of them. That +portion only amounted to L750, the whole being L1500. Of this L750 out +of my pocket (which was quite enough), L250 went to pay for +expenses (counsel, &c.) attendant on the _failure_ of two Government +prosecutions,--one for saying (_totidem verbis_) that 'of all monarchs +since the Revolution, the successor of George III would have the +finest opportunity of becoming nobly popular'; (think, nowadays, +of being prosecuted for _that_!) and the other for copying from the +_Stamford News_ the paragraph against military flogging, alluded to +the other day in the _Daily News_. (Think, now, this moment, of being +prosecuted for _That_!) The L500 fine and two years' imprisonment was +for ludicrously contrasting the _Morning Post's_ picture of the Regent +as an 'Adonis', &c. with the old and real fat state of the case, and +for adding that his Royal Highness had lived for 'upwards of half +a century without doing anything to deserve the admiration of his +contemporaries or the gratitude of posterity'. Words to that effect, +and I believe better,--but I do not quite remember them. They might be +easily ascertained by reference to Peel's Coffee-house, and the words +of the _Post_, too. + +Besides the fine, my imprisonment cost me several hundred pounds (I +can't exactly say how many) in monstrous _douceurs_ to the gaoler +for _liberty to walk in the garden_, for help towards getting me +permission to fit up rooms in the sick hospital, and for fitting +up said rooms, or rather converting them from sorts of +washhouses, hitherto uninhabited and unfloored, into comfortable +apartments,--which I did too expensively,--at least as far as papering +the sitting-room with a trellis of roses went, and having my ceiling +painted to imitate an out-of-door sky. No notice, however, could +be taken, I suppose, of any of _this_ portion of the expenses, +governments having nothing to do with the secret corruptions of +gaolers or the pastorals of incarcerated poets: otherwise the +prosecutions cost me altogether a good bit beyond a thousand pounds. + +But perhaps it might be mentioned that I went to prison from all but +a sick bed, having been just ordered by the physician _to go to the +seaside_, and _ride_ for the benefit of my health (pleasing dramatic +contrast to the _verdict_!). I also declined, as I told you, to try +avoiding the imprisonment by the help of Perry's offer of the famous +secret 'Book'; and I further declined (as I think I also told you) +to avail myself of an offer on the part of a royal agent (made, of +course, in the guarded, though obvious manner in which such offers are +conveyed), to drop the prosecution, provided we would agree to +drop all future hostile mention of the Regent. But of this, too, +governments could not be expected to take notice--perhaps would regard +it as an addition to the offence. This, however, I must add, that the +whole attack on the Regent was owing, not merely to the nonsense of +the _Post_, but to his violation of those promises of conceding the +Catholic claims, to which his princely word stood pledged. The subject +of the article was the '_Dinner on St. Patrick's day_'. All the Whig +world was indignant at that violation; so were the Irish, of course, +_vehemently_; and it was on the spur of this publicly indignant +movement that I wrote what I did,--as angrily and as much in earnest +in the serious part of what I said as I was derisive in the rest. +I did not care for any factious object, nor was I what is called +anti-monarchical. I didn't know Cobbett, or Henry Hunt, or any +demagogue, _even by sight_, except Sir Francis Burdett, and him +by sight alone. Nor did I ever see, or speak a word with them, +afterwards. I knew nothing, in fact, of politics themselves, except in +some of those large and, as it appeared to me, obvious phases, which, +at all events, _have since become obvious to most people_, and in +fighting for which (if a man can be said to fight for a 'phase'!) I +suffered all that Tories could inflict upon me,--by expenses in law +and calumnies in literature;--reform, Catholic claims, free +trade, abolition of flogging, right of free speech, as opposed by +attorneys-general. I was, in fact, all the while nothing but a poetic +student, appearing in politics once a week, but given up entirely to +letters almost all the rest of it, and loving nothing so much as a +book and a walk in the fields. I was precisely the sort of person, in +these respects, which I am at this moment. As to George the Fourth, I +aided, years afterwards, in publicly wishing him well--'years having +brought the philosophic mind'. I believe I even expressed regret at +not having given him the excuses due to all human beings (the passage, +I take it, is in the book which Colburn called _Lord Byron and his +Contemporaries_); _and when I consider that Moore has been pensioned, +not only in spite of all his libels on him, but perhaps by very reason +of their Whig partisanship, I should think it hard to be refused a +pension purely because I openly suffered for what I had earnestly +said_. I knew George the Fourth's physician, Sir William Knighton, +who had been mine before I was imprisoned (it was _not_ he who was the +royal agent alluded to); and, if my memory does not deceive me, Sir +William told me that George had been gratified by the book above +mentioned. Perhaps he had found out, by Sir William's help, that I was +not an ill-natured man, or one who could not outlive what was +mistaken in himself or resentful in others. As to my opinions about +Governments, the bad conduct of the Allies, and of Napoleon, and the +old Bourbons, certainly made them waver as to what might be ultimately +best, monarchy or republicanism; but they ended in favour of their +old predilections; and no man, for a long while, has been less a +republican than myself, monarchies and courts appearing to me salutary +for the good and graces of mankind, and Americanisms anything but +either. But nobody, I conceive, that knew my writings, or heard of me +truly from others, ever took me for a republican. William the Fourth +saw or heard nothing of me to hinder his letting Lord Melbourne give +me L200 out of the Royal Fund. Queen Victoria gave me another, +through the same kind friend. She also went twice to see my play; and +everybody knows how I praise and love her. _I do not think, therefore, +in reference to the pension, that the public would care twopence about +George the Fourth, one way or the other; or that if any remembered the +case at all, they would connect the pension in the least with anything +about him, but attribute it solely to the Queen's and Minister's +goodness, and the wants of a sincere and not undeserving man of +letters, distinguished for his loyal attachment_. I certainly think +the L500 fine ought not to have been taken out of my pocket, or the +other two L125 either; and I think also, that a liberal Whig minister +might reasonably and _privately_ think some compensation on those +accounts due to me. _I have been fighting his own fight from first to +last, and helping to prepare matters for his triumph_. But still the +above, in my opinion, is what the public would think of the matter, +_and my friends of the press could lay it entirely to the literary +account_. + + + + +GEORGE GORDON NOEL, + LORD BYRON + +1788-1824 + + + +To MR. HODGSON + +_Travel in Portugal_ + + +Lisbon, 16 _July_, 1809. + +Thus far have we pursued our route, and seen all sorts of marvellous +sights, palaces, convents, &c.,--which, being to be heard in my friend +Hobhouse's forthcoming Book of Travels, I shall not anticipate by +smuggling any account whatsoever to you in a private and clandestine +manner. I must just observe, that the village of Cintra in Estremadura +is the most beautiful, perhaps, in the world. + +I am very happy here, because I loves oranges, and talks bad Latin +to the monks, who understand it, as it is like their own,--and I goes +into society (with my pocket pistols), and I swims in the Tagus +all across at once, and I rides on an ass or a mule, and swears +Portuguese, and have got bites from the mosquitoes. But what of that? +Comfort must not be expected by folks that go a-pleasuring. + +When the Portuguese are pertinacious, I say '_Carracho_!'--the +great oath of the grandees, that very well supplies the place of +'Damme!'--and when dissatisfied with my neighbour, I pronounce +him '_Ambra di merdo_'. With these two phrases, and a third,'_Avra +bouro_', which signifieth 'Get an ass', I am universally understood to +be a person of degree and a master of languages. How merrily we +lives that travellers be!--if we had food and raiment. But, in sober +sadness, anything is better than England, and I am infinitely amused +with my pilgrimage, as far as it has gone. + +To-morrow we start to ride post near 400 miles as far as Gibraltar, +where we embark for Melita and Byzantium. A letter to Malta will find +me, or to be forwarded, if I am absent. Pray embrace the Drury and +Dwyer, and all the Ephesians you encounter. I am writing with Butler's +donative pencil, which makes my bad hand worse. Excuse illegibility. + +Hodgson! send me the news, and the deaths and defeats and capital +crimes and the misfortunes of one's friends; and let us hear of +literary matters, and the controversies and the criticisms. All this +will be pleasant--'_Suave mari magno_, &c.' Talking of that, I have +been sea-sick, and sick of the sea. Adieu. + + + +TO THOMAS MOORE + +_Announces his engagement_ + + +Newstead Abbey, 20 _Sept._ 1814. + + Here's to her who long + Hath waked the poet's sigh! + The girl who gave to song + What gold could never buy. + +MY DEAR MOORE, + +I am going to be married--that is, I am accepted, and one usually +hopes the rest will follow. My mother of the Gracchi (that _are_ to +be), _you_ think too strait-laced for me, although the paragon of only +children, and invested with 'golden opinions of all sorts of men', and +full of 'most blest conditions' as Desdemona herself. Miss Milbanke +is the lady, and I have her father's invitation to proceed there in my +elect capacity,--which, however, I cannot do until I have settled some +business in London, and got a blue coat. + +She is said to be an heiress, but of that I really know nothing +certainly, and shall not inquire. But I do know, that she has talents +and excellent qualities; and you will not deny her judgement, after +having refused six suitors and taken me. + +Now, if you have anything to say against this, pray do; my mind's +made up, positively fixed, determined, and therefore I will listen to +reason, because now it can do no harm. Things may occur to break it +off, but I will hope not. In the meantime I tell you (a _secret_, by +the by,--at least till I know she wishes it to be public) that I have +proposed and am accepted. You need not be in a hurry to wish me joy, +for one mayn't be married for months. I am going to town to-morrow, +but expect to be here, on my way there, within a fortnight. + +If this had not happened, I should have gone to Italy. In my way down, +perhaps you will meet me at Nottingham, and come over with me here. +I need not say that nothing will give me greater pleasure. I must, of +course, reform thoroughly; and, seriously, if I can contribute to +her happiness, I shall secure my own. She is so good a person +that--that--in short, I wish I was a better. + + + +TO JOHN MURRAY + +_No bid for sweet voices_ + + +Venice, 6 _April_, 1819. + +The second canto of Don Juan was sent, on Saturday last, by post, in +four packets, two of four, and two of three sheets each, containing +in all two hundred and seventeen stanzas, octave measure. But I will +permit no curtailments.... You shan't make _canticles_ of my cantos. +The poem will please, if it is lively; if it is stupid, it will fail; +but I will have none of your damned cutting and slashing. If you +please, you may publish _anonymously_; it will perhaps be better; but +I will battle my way against them all, like a porcupine. + +So you and Mr. Foscolo, etc., want me to undertake what you call a +'great work'? an Epic Poem, I suppose or some such pyramid. I'll try +no such thing; I hate tasks. And then 'seven or eight years'! God send +us all well this day three months, let alone years. If one's years +can't be better employed than in sweating poesy, a man had better be a +ditcher. And works, too!--is _Childe Harold_ nothing? You have so many +'_divine_' poems, is it nothing to have written a _human_ one? without +any of your worn-out machinery. Why, man, I could have spun the +thoughts of the four cantos of that poem into twenty, had I wanted to +book-make, and its passion into as many modern tragedies. Since you +want _length_, you shall have enough of _Juan_, for I'll make fifty +cantos.... + +Besides, I mean to write my best work in _Italian_, and it will take +me nine years more thoroughly to master the language; and then if my +fancy exist, and I exist too, I will try what I _can_ do _really_. As +to the estimation of the English which you talk of, let them +calculate what it is worth, before they insult me with their insolent +condescension. + +I have not written for their pleasure. If they are pleased, it is that +they chose to be so; I have never flattered their opinions, nor their +pride; nor will I. Neither will I make 'Ladies' books' '_al dilettar +le femine e la plebe_'. I have written from the fullness of my mind, +from passion, from impulse, from many motives, but not for their +'sweet voices'. + +I know the precise worth of popular applause, for few scribblers have +had more of it; and if I chose to swerve into their paths, I could +retain it, or resume it. But I neither love ye, nor fear ye; and +though I buy with ye and sell with ye, and talk with ye, I will +neither eat with ye, drink with ye, nor pray with ye. They made me, +without my search, a species of popular idol; they, without reason or +judgement, beyond the caprice of their good pleasure, threw down the +image from its pedestal; it was not broken with the fall, and they +would, it seems, again replace it,--but they shall not. + +You ask about my health: about the beginning of the year I was in a +state of great exhaustion ... and I was obliged to reform my 'way of +life', which was conducting me from the 'yellow leaf' to the ground, +with all deliberate speed. I am better in health and morals, and very +much yours, &c.-- + +PS. I have read Hodgson's '_Friends_'. He is right in defending Pope +against the bastard pelicans of the poetical winter day, who add +insult to their parricide, by sucking the blood of the parent of +English _real_ poetry,--poetry without fault,--and then spurning the +bosom which fed them. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The cemetery at Bologna_ + + +Bologna, 7 _June_, 1819. + +... I have been picture-gazing this morning at the famous Domenichino +and Guido, both of which are superlative. I afterwards went to the +beautiful cemetery of Bologna, beyond the walls, and found, besides +the superb burial-ground, an original of a Custode, who reminded me +of the grave-digger in _Hamlet_. He has a collection of capuchins' +skulls, labelled on the forehead, and taking down one of them, said, +'This was Brother Desiderio Berro, who died at forty--one of my best +friends. I begged his head of his brethren after his decease, and they +gave it me. I put it in lime, and then boiled it. Here it is, teeth +and all, in excellent preservation. He was the merriest, cleverest +fellow I ever knew. Wherever he went, he brought joy; and whenever any +one was melancholy, the sight of him was enough to make him cheerful +again. He walked so actively, you might have taken him for a +dancer--he joked--he laughed--oh! he was such a Frate as I never saw +before, nor ever shall again!' + +He told me that he had himself planted all the cypresses in the +cemetery; that he had the greatest attachment to them and to his dead +people; that since 1801 they had buried fifty-three thousand persons. +In showing some older monuments, there was that of a Roman girl of +twenty, with a bust by Bernini. She was a princess Bartorini, dead two +centuries ago: he said that, on opening her grave, they had found +her hair complete, and 'as yellow as gold'. Some of the epitaphs at +Ferrara pleased me more than the more splendid monuments at Bologna; +for instance:-- + + '_Martini Luigi + Implora pace.' + 'Lucrezia Picini + Implora eterna quiete_.' + +Can anything be more full of pathos? Those few words say all that can +be said or sought: the dead had had enough of life; all they wanted +was rest, and this they _implore_! There is all the helplessness, +and humble hope, and deathlike prayer, that can arise from the +grave--'_implora pace_'. I hope, whoever may survive me, and shall +see me put in the foreigners' burying-ground at the Lido, within the +fortress by the Adriatic, will see those two words, and no more, put +over me. I trust they won't think of 'pickling, and bringing me home +to Clod or Blunderbuss Hall'. I am sure my bones would not rest in +an English grave, or my clay mix with the earth of that country. I +believe the thought would drive me mad on my deathbed, could I suppose +that any of my friends would be base enough to convey my carcass back +to your soil. I would not even feed your worms, if I could help it. + +So, as Shakespeare says of Mowbray, the banished Duke of Norfolk, who +died at Venice (see _Richard II_), that he, after fighting + + Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens, + And toiled with works of war, retired himself + To Italy, and there, at _Venice_, gave + His body to that _pleasant_ country's earth, + And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ, + Under whose colours he had fought so long. + +Before I left Venice, I had returned to you your late, and Mr. +Hobhouse's sheets of _Juan_. Don't wait for further answers from +me, but address yours to Venice, as usual. I know nothing of my own +movements; I may return there in a few days, or not for some time. +All this depends on circumstances. I left Mr. Hoppner very well.... +My daughter Allegra was well too, and is growing pretty; her hair is +growing darker, and her eyes are blue. Her temper and her ways, Mr. +Hoppner says, are like mine, as well as her features: she will make, +in that case, a manageable young lady. + +I have never heard anything of Ada, the little Electra of my +Mycenae.... But there will come a day of reckoning, even if I should +not live to see it.... What a long letter I have scribbled! + +PS. Here, as in Greece, they strew flowers on the tombs. I saw a +quantity of rose-leaves, and entire roses, scattered over the graves +at Ferrara. It has the most pleasing effect you can imagine. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_In rebellious mood_ + + +Bologna, 24 _Aug_. 1819. + +I wrote to you by last post, enclosing a buffooning letter for +publication, addressed to the buffoon Roberts, who has thought proper +to tie a canister to his own tail. It was written off-hand, and in the +midst of circumstances not very favourable to facetiousness, so that +there may, perhaps, be more bitterness than enough for that sort of +small acid punch:--you will tell me. Keep the _anonymous_, in any +case: it helps what fun there may be. But if the matter grow serious +about _Don Juan_, and you feel _yourself_ in a scrape, or _me_ either, +_own that I am the author. I_ will never _shrink_, and if _you_ do, +I can always answer you in the question of Guatimozin to his +minister--each being on his own coals. + +I wish that I had been in better spirits; but I am out of sorts, out +of nerves, and now and then (I begin to fear) out of my senses. All +this Italy has done for me, and not England: I defy all you, and your +climate to boot, to make me mad. But if ever I do really become a +Bedlamite, and wear a strait waistcoat, let me be brought back among +you: your people will then be proper company. + +I assure you what I here say and feel has nothing to do with England, +either in a literary or personal point of view. All my present +pleasures or plagues are as Italian as the opera. And, after all, they +are but trifles; for all this arises from my 'Dama's' being in the +country for three days (at Capofiume). But as I could never live but +for one human being at a time (and, I assure you, _that one_ has never +been _myself_, as you may know by the consequences, for the _selfish_ +are _successful_ in life), I feel alone and unhappy. + +I have sent for my daughter from Venice, and I ride daily, and walk in +a garden, under a purple canopy of grapes, and sit by a fountain, and +talk with the gardener of his tools, which seem greater than Adam's, +and with his wife, and with his son's wife, who is the youngest of the +party, and, I think, talks best of the three. Then I revisit the Campo +Santo, and my old friend, the sexton, has two--but _one_ the prettiest +daughter imaginable; and I amuse myself with contrasting her beautiful +and innocent face of fifteen with the skulls with which he has peopled +several cells, and particularly with that of one skull, dated 1766, +which was once covered (the tradition goes) by the most lovely +features of Bologna--noble and rich. When I look at these, and at +this girl--when I think of what _they were_, and what she must be--why +then, my dear Murray, I won't shock you by saying what I think. It is +little matter what becomes of us 'bearded men', but I don't like the +notion of a beautiful woman's lasting less than a beautiful tree--than +her own picture--her own shadow, which won't change so to the sun +as her face to the mirror. I must leave off, for my head aches +consumedly. I have never been quite well since the night of the +representation of Alfieri's _Mirra_, a fortnight ago. + + + +To PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +_A trio of poets_ + + +Ravenna, 26 _April_, 1821. + +The child continues doing well, and the accounts are regular and +favourable. It is gratifying to me that you and Mrs. Shelley do not +disapprove of the step which I have taken, which is merely temporary. + +I am very sorry to hear what you say of Keats--is it _actually_ true? +I did not think criticism had been so killing. Though I differ from +you essentially in your estimate of his performances, I so much abhor +all unnecessary pain, that I would rather he had been seated on the +highest peak of Parnassus than have perished in such a manner. Poor +fellow! though with such inordinate self-love he would probably +have not been very happy. I read the review of _Endymion_ in the +_Quarterly_. It was severe,--but surely not so severe as many reviews +in that and other journals upon others. + +I recollect the effect on me of the _Edinburgh_ on my first poem; +it was rage, and resistance, and redress--but not despondency nor +despair. I grant that those are not amiable feelings; but, in this +world of bustle and broil, and especially in the career of writing, +a man should calculate upon his powers of _resistance_ before he goes +into the arena. + + Expect not life from pain nor danger free, + Nor deem the doom of man reserved for thee. + +You know my opinion of _that second-hand_ school of poetry. You +also know my high opinion of your own poetry,--because it is of +_no_ school. I read _Cenci_--but, besides that I think the _subject_ +essentially _un_ dramatic, I am not an admirer of our old dramatists, +_as models_. I deny that the English have hitherto had a drama at all. +Your _Cenci_, however, was a work of power, and poetry. As to _my_ +drama, pray revenge yourself upon it, by being as free as I have been +with yours. + +I have not yet got your _Prometheus_, which I long to see. I have +heard nothing of mine, and do not know that it is yet published. I +have published a pamphlet on the Pope controversy, which you will not +like. Had I known that Keats was dead--or that he was alive and so +sensitive--I should have omitted some remarks upon his poetry, +to which I was provoked by his _attack_ upon _Pope_, and my +disapprobation of _his own_ style of writing. + +You want me to undertake a great poem--I have not the inclination nor +the power. As I grow older, the indifference--_not_ to life, for we +love it by instinct--but to the stimuli of life, increases. Besides, +this late failure of the Italians has latterly disappointed me for +many reasons,--some public, some personal. My respects to Mrs. S. + +PS. Could not you and I contrive to meet this summer? Could not you +take a run here _alone_? + + + +To LADY BYRON + +_A plain statement of facts_ + + +Pisa, 17 _Nov_. 1821, + +I have to acknowledge the receipt of 'Ada's hair', which is very soft +and pretty, and nearly as dark already as mine was at twelve years +old, if I may judge from what I recollect of some in Augusta's +possession, taken at that age. But it don't curl,--perhaps from its +being let grow. + +I also thank you for the inscription of the date and name, and I will +tell you why;--I believe that they are the only two or three words of +your handwriting in my possession. For your letters I returned; and +except the two words, or rather the one word, 'Household', written +twice in an old account book, I have no other. I burnt your last +note, for two reasons:--firstly, it was written in a style not +very agreeable; and, secondly, I wished to take your word without +documents, which are the worldly resources of suspicious people. + +I suppose that this note will reach you somewhere about Ada's +birthday--the 10th of December, I believe. She will then be six, +so that in about twelve more I shall have some chance of meeting +her;--perhaps sooner, if I am obliged to go to England by business +or otherwise. Recollect, however, one thing, either in distance or +nearness;--every day which keeps us asunder should, after so long a +period, rather soften our mutual feelings, which must always have one +rallying-point as long as our child exists, which I presume we both +hope will be long after either of her parents. + +The time which has elapsed since the separation has been considerably +more than the whole brief period of our union, and the not much longer +one of our prior acquaintance. We both made a bitter mistake; but now +it is over, and irrevocably so. For, at thirty-three on my part, and a +few years less on yours, though it is no very extended period of life, +still it is one when the habits and thought are generally so formed as +to admit of no modification; and as we could not agree when younger, +we should with difficulty do so now. + +I say all this, because I own to you, that, notwithstanding +everything, I considered our reunion as not impossible for more than +a year after the separation;--but then I gave up the hope entirely and +for ever. But this very impossibility of reunion seems to me at least +a reason why, on all the few points of discussion which can arise +between us, we should preserve the courtesies of life, and as much of +its kindness as people who are never to meet may preserve perhaps more +easily than nearer connexions. For my own part, I am violent, but not +malignant; for only fresh provocations can awaken my resentments. To +you, who are colder and more concentrated, I would just hint, that +you may sometimes mistake the depth of a cold anger for dignity, and a +worse feeling for duty. I assure you that I bear you _now_ (whatever +I may have done) no resentment whatever. Remember, that _if you have +injured me_ in aught, this forgiveness is something; and that, if I +have _injured you_, it is something more still, if it be true, as the +moralists say, that the most offending are the least forgiving. + +Whether the offence has been solely on my side, or reciprocal, or on +yours chiefly, I have ceased to reflect upon any but two things,--viz. +that you are the mother of my child, and that we shall never meet +again. I think if you also consider the two corresponding points with +reference to myself, it will be better for all three. + + + +To MR. BARFF + +_Sympathy with the Greeks_ + + +10 _March_, 1824. + +Enclosed is an answer to Mr. Parruca's letter, and I hope that you +will assure him from me, that I have done and am doing all I can to +reunite the Greeks with the Greeks. + +I am extremely obliged by your offer of your country-house (as for all +other kindness) in case that my health should require my removal; but +I cannot quit Greece while there is a chance of my being of any (even +supposed) utility:--there is a stake worth millions such as I am, and +while I can stand at all, I must stand by the cause. When I say this, +I am at the same time aware of the difficulties and dissensions and +defects of the Greeks themselves; but allowance must be made for them +by all reasonable people. + +My chief, indeed _nine-tenths_ of my expenses here are solely in +advances to or on behalf of the Greeks, and objects connected with +their independence. + +[_Enclosure, translated_] + + + +To S.R. PARRUCA + + +10 _March_, 1824. + +_Sir_,--I have the honour of answering your letter. My first wish has +always been to bring the Greeks to agree among themselves. I came here +by the invitation of the Greek Government, and I do not think that I +ought to abandon Roumelia for the Peloponnesus until that Government +shall desire it; and the more so, as this part is exposed in a greater +degree to the enemy. Nevertheless, if my presence can really be of any +assistance in uniting two or more parties, I am ready to go anywhere, +either as a mediator, or, if necessary, as a hostage. In these affairs +I have neither private views, nor private dislike of any individual, +but the sincere wish of deserving the name of the friend of your +country, and of her patriots. + + + + +PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 1792-1822 + + + +To T.J. HOGG + +_His first marriage_ + + +[_No date. Postmark_, Rhayader. Summer of 1811.] + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +You will perhaps see me before you can answer this; perhaps not; +Heaven knows! I shall certainly come to York, but _Harriet Westbrook_ +will decide whether now or in three weeks. Her father has persecuted +her in a most horrible way, by endeavouring to compel her to go to +school. She asked my advice: resistance, was the answer, at the same +time that I essayed to mollify Mr. W. in vain! And in consequence of +my advice _she_ has thrown herself upon _my_ protection. + +I set off for London on Monday. How flattering a distinction!--I am +thinking of ten million things at once. + +What have I said? I declare, quite _ludicrous_. I advised her to +resist. She wrote to say that resistance was useless, but that she +would fly with me, and threw herself upon my protection. We shall have +L200 a year; when we find it run short, we must live, I suppose, upon +love! Gratitude and admiration, all demand that I should love her +_for ever._ We shall see you at York. I will hear your arguments for +matrimonialism, by which I am now almost convinced. I can get lodgings +at York, I suppose. Direct to me at Graham's, 18, Sackville Street, +Piccadilly. + +Your inclosure of L10 has arrived; I am now indebted to you L30. +In spite of philosophy, I am rather ashamed of this unceremonious +exsiccation of your financial river. But indeed, my dear friend, the +gratitude which I owe you for your society and attachment ought so far +to overbalance this consideration as to leave me nothing but that. I +must, however, pay you when I can. + +I suspect that the _strain_ is gone for ever. This letter will +convince you that I am not under the influence of a _strain_. + +I am thinking at once of ten million things. I shall come to live near +you, as Mr. Peyton. + +Ever your most faithful friend. + +I shall be at 18, Sackville Street; at least direct there. Do not send +more cash; I shall raise supplies in London. + + + +To WILLIAM GODWIN + +_An introduction_ + + +Keswick, 3 _Jan_. 1812. + +You will be surprised at hearing from a stranger. No introduction has, +nor in all probability ever will authorize that which common thinkers +would call a liberty; it is, however, a liberty which, although not +sanctioned by custom, is so far from being reprobated by reason, that +the dearest interests of mankind imperiously demand that a certain +etiquette of fashion should no longer keep 'man at a distance from +man', or impose its flimsy fancies between the free communication of +intellect. + +The name of Godwin has been used to excite in me feelings of reverence +and admiration. I have been accustomed to consider him a luminary +too dazzling for the darkness which surrounds him. From the earliest +period of my knowledge of his principles, I have ardently desired +to share, on the footing of intimacy, that intellect which I have +delighted to contemplate in its emanations. + +Considering, then, these feelings, you will not be surprised at the +inconceivable emotions with which I learned your existence and your +dwelling. I had enrolled your name in the list of the honourable dead. +I had felt regret that the glory of your being had passed from this +earth of ours. It is not so; you still live, and, I firmly believe, +are still planning the welfare of human kind. + +I have but just entered on the scene of human operations; yet my +feelings and my reasonings correspond with what yours were. My course +has been short, but eventful. I have seen much of human prejudice, +suffered much from human persecution, yet I see no reason hence +inferable which should alter my wishes for their renovation. The +ill-treatment I have met with has more than ever impressed the truth +of my principles on my judgement. I am young, I am ardent in the cause +of philanthropy and truth; do not suppose that this is vanity; I am +not conscious that it influences this portraiture. I imagine myself +dispassionately describing the state of my mind. I am young; you +have gone before me--I doubt not, are a veteran to me in the years of +persecution. Is it strange that, defying prejudice as I have done; I +should outstep the limits of custom's prescription, and endeavour to +make my desire useful by a friendship with William Godwin? + +I pray you to answer this letter. Imperfect as may be my capacity, +my desire is ardent and unintermitted. Half an hour would be at least +humanely employed in the experiment. I may mistake your residence; +certain feelings, of which I may be an inadequate arbiter, may induce +you to desire concealment; I may not, in fine, have an answer to this +letter. If I do not, when I come to London, I shall seek for you. I am +convinced I could represent myself to you in such terms as not to be +thought wholly unworthy of your friendship; at least, if desire for +universal happiness has any claim upon your preference, that desire I +can exhibit. Adieu! I shall earnestly await your answer. + + + +To THOMAS HOOKHAM + +_A subscription for Hunt_ + + +_February_ 1813. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +I am boiling with indignation at the horrible injustice and tyranny +of the sentence pronounced on Hunt and his brother; and it is on this +subject that I write to you. Surely the seal of abjectness and slavery +is indelibly stamped upon the character of England. + +Although I do not retract in the slightest degree my wish for a +subscription for the widows and children of those poor men hung at +York, yet this L1000 which the Hunts are sentenced to pay is an affair +of more consequence. Hunt is a brave, a good, and an enlightened man. +Surely the public, for whom Hunt has done so much, will repay in part +the great debt of obligation which they owe the champion of their +liberties and virtues; or are they dead, cold, stone-hearted, and +insensible--brutalized by centuries of unremitting bondage? +However that may be, they surely may be excited into some slight +acknowledgement of his merits. Whilst hundreds of thousands are sent +to the tyrants of Russia, he pines in a dungeon, far from all that can +make life desired. + +Well, I am rather poor at present; but I have L20 which is not +immediately wanted. Pray, begin a subscription for the Hunts; put down +my name for that sum, and, when I hear that you have complied with my +request, I will send it you. Now, if there are any difficulties in +the way of this scheme of ours, for the love of liberty and virtue, +overcome them. Oh! that I might wallow for one night in the Bank of +England! + +_Queen Mab_ is finished and transcribed. I am now preparing the notes, +which shall be long and philosophical. You will receive it with the +other poems. I think that the whole should form one volume; but of +that we can speak hereafter. + +As to the French _Encyclopedie_, it is a book which I am +desirous--very desirous--of possessing, and if you could get me a few +months' credit (being at present rather low in cash), I should very +much desire to have it. + +My dear sir, excuse the earnestness of the first part of my letter. I +feel warmly on this subject, and I flatter myself that so long as your +own independence and liberty remain uncompromised, you are inclined to +second my desires. + +PS. If no other way can be devised for this subscription, will you +take the trouble on yourself of writing an appropriate advertisement +for the papers, inserting, by way of stimulant, my subscription? + +On second thoughts, I enclose the L20. + + + +To MR. OLLIER + +_An article by Southey_ + + +Florence, 15 _Oct_. 1819. + +DEAR SIR, + +The droll remarks of the _Quarterly_, and Hunt's kind defence, arrived +as safe as such poison, and safer than such an antidote, usually do. + +I am on the point of sending to you 250 copies of a work which I have +printed in Italy; which you will have to pay four or five pounds duty +upon, on my account. Hunt will tell you the _kind of thing_ it is, +and in the course of the winter I shall send directions for its +publication, _until the arrival of which directions, I request that +you would have the kindness not_ to open the box, _or, if by necessity +it is opened, to abstain from observing yourself or permitting others +to observe, what it contains_. I trust this confidently to you, it +being of consequence. Meanwhile, assure yourself that this work has no +reference, direct or indirect, to politics, or religion, or personal +satire, and that this precaution is merely literary. + +The _Prometheus_, a poem in my best style, whatever that may amount +to, will arrive with it, but in MS., which you can print and publish +in the season. It is the most perfect of my productions. + +Southey wrote the article in question, I am well aware. Observe the +impudence of the man in speaking of himself. The only remark worth +notice in this piece is the assertion that I imitate Wordsworth. +It may as well be said that Lord Byron imitates Wordsworth, or that +Wordsworth imitates Lord Byron, both being great poets, and deriving +from the new springs of thought and feeling, which the great events +of our age have exposed to view, a similar tone of sentiment, imagery, +and expression. A certain similarity all the best writers of any +particular age inevitably are marked with, from the spirit of that age +acting on all. This I had explained in my _Preface_, which the +writer was too disingenuous to advert to. As to the other trash, and +particularly that lame attack on my personal character, which was +meant so ill, and which I am not the man to feel, 'tis all nothing. I +am glad, with respect to that part of it which alludes to Hunt, that +it should so have happened that I dedicate, as you will see, a work +which has all the capacities for being popular to that excellent +person. I was amused, too, with the finale; it is like the end of the +first act of an opera, when that tremendous concordant discord sets +up from the orchestra, and everybody talks and sings at once. It +describes the result of my battle with their Omnipotent God; his +pulling me under the sea by the hair of my head, like Pharaoh; my +calling out like the devil who was _game_ to the last; swearing and +cursing in all comic and horrid oaths, like a French postilion on +Mount Cenis; entreating everybody to drown themselves; pretending not +to be drowned myself when I _am_ drowned; and lastly, _being_ drowned. + +You would do me a particular kindness if you would call on Hunt, and +ask him when my parcel went, the name of the ship, and the name of the +captain, and whether he has any bill of lading, which, if he has, you +would oblige me by sending, together with the rest of the information, +by return of post, addressed to the Post Office, Florence. + + + +To MRS. HUNT + +_Keats and some others_ + + +[Pisa] 11 _Nov_. 1820. + +MY BEST MARIANNE, + +I am delighted to hear that you complain of me for not writing to you, +although I have much more reason to complain of you for not writing to +me. At least it promises me a letter from you, and you know with what +pleasure we receive, and with what anxiety we expect intelligence from +you--almost the only friends who now remain to us. + +I am afraid that the strict system of expense to which you are limited +annoys you all very much, and that Hunt's health suffers both from +that and from the incredible exertions which I see by the _Indicators_ +and the _Examiners_ that he is making. Would to Heaven that I had the +power of doing you some good! but when you are sure that the wish is +sincere, the bare expression of it may help to cheer you. + +The Gisbornes are arrived, and have brought news of you, and some +books, the principal part of which, however, are yet to arrive by +sea. Keats's new volume has arrived to us, and the fragment called +_Hyperion_ promises for him that he is destined to become one of the +first writers of the age. His other things are imperfect enough, and, +what is worse, written in the bad sort of style which is becoming +fashionable among those who fancy that they are imitating Hunt and +Wordsworth. But of all these things nothing is worse than ----, in +spite of Hunt's extracting the only good stanzas, with his usual good +nature. Indeed, _I_ ought not to complain of Hunt's good nature, for +no one owes so much to it. Is not the vulgarity of these wretched +imitations of Lord Byron carried to a pitch of the sublime? His +indecencies, too, both against sexual nature, and against human +nature in general, sit very awkwardly upon him. He only affects the +libertine: he is, really, a very amiable, friendly, and agreeable +man, I hear. But is not this monstrous? In Lord Byron all this has +an analogy with the general system of his character, and the wit and +poetry which surround hide with their light the darkness of the thing +itself. They contradict it even; they prove that the strength and +beauty of human nature can survive and conquer all that appears most +inconsistent with it. But for a writer to be at once filthy and dull +is a crime against gods, men, and columns. For Heaven's sake do not +show this to any one but Hunt, for it would irritate the wasp's nest +of the irritable race of poets. + +Where is Keats now? I am anxiously expecting him in Italy, when I +shall take care to bestow every possible attention on him. I consider +his a most valuable life, and I am deeply interested in his safety. I +intend to be the physician both of his body and his soul, to keep +the one warm, and to teach the other Greek and Spanish. I am aware, +indeed, in part, that I am nourishing a rival who will far surpass me; +and this is an additional motive, and will be an added pleasure. + +We are at this moment removing from the Bagni to Pisa, for the Serchio +has broken its banks, and all the country about is under water. An old +friend and fellow-townsman of mine, Captain Medwin, is on a visit to +us at present, and we anxiously expect Keats, to whom I would write if +I knew where to address. + +Adieu, my dear Marianne. Write soon; kiss all the babes for me, and +tell me news of them, and give my love to Bessy and Hunt. + + + +To LEIGH HUNT + +_A literary collaboration_ + + +Pisa, 26 _Aug._ 1821. + +MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +Since I last wrote to you, I have been on a visit to Lord Byron at +Ravenna. The result of this visit was a determination, on his part, to +come and live at Pisa; and I have taken the finest palace on the Lung' +Arno for him. But the material part of my visit consists in a message +which he desires me to give you, and which, I think, ought to add +to your determination--for such a one I hope you have formed--of +restoring your shattered health and spirits by a migration to these +'regions mild of calm and serene air'. + +He proposes that you should come out and go shares with him and me, +in a periodical work, to be conducted here; in which each of the +contracting parties should publish all their original compositions and +share the profits. He proposed it to Moore, but for some reason it was +never brought to bear. There can be no doubt that the _profits_ of +any scheme in which you and Lord Byron engage, must, from various, +yet co-operating reasons, be very great. As for myself, I am for the +present only a sort of link between you and him, until you can know +each other, and effectuate the arrangement; since (to entrust you with +a secret which, for your sake, I withhold from Lord Byron) nothing +would induce me to share in the profits, and still less, in the +borrowed splendour of such a partnership. You and he, in different +manners, would be equal, and would bring, in a different manner, but +in the same proportion, equal stocks of reputation and success. Do not +let my frankness with you, nor my belief that you deserve it more than +Lord Byron, have the effect of deterring you from assuming a station +in modern literature which the universal voice of my contemporaries +forbids me either to stoop or to aspire to. I am, and I desire to be, +nothing. + +I did not ask Lord Byron to assist me in sending a remittance for your +journey; because there are men, however excellent, from whom we would +never receive an obligation, in the worldly sense of the word; and I +am as jealous for my friend as for myself. But I suppose that I shall +at last make up an impudent face, and ask Horace Smith to add to the +many obligations he has conferred on me. I know I need only ask. + +I think I have never told you how very much I like your _Amyntas_; it +almost reconciles me to translations. In another sense I still demur. +You might have written another such a poem as the _Nymphs_, with no +access of efforts. I am full of thoughts and plans, and should do +something, if the feeble and irritable frame which incloses it was +willing to obey the spirit. I fancy that then I should do great +things. Before this you will have seen _Adonais_. Lord Byron, I +suppose from modesty, on account of his being mentioned in it, did +not say a word of _Adonais_, though he was loud in his praise of +_Prometheus_, and, what you will not agree with him in, censure of +the _Cenci_. Certainly, if _Marino Faliero_ is a drama, the _Cenci_ +is not--but that between ourselves. Lord Byron is reformed, as far +as gallantry goes, and lives with a beautiful and sentimental Italian +lady, who is as much attached to him as may be. I trust greatly to his +intercourse with you, for his creed to become as pure as he thinks his +conduct is. He has many generous and exalted qualities, but the canker +of aristocracy wants to be cut out. + + + + +JOHN KEATS + +1795-1821 + + + +To JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS + +_Burns's cottage_ + + +Maybole, 11 _July_ [1818]. + +MY DEAR REYNOLDS, + +... I am approaching Burns's cottage very fast. We have made continual +inquiries from the time we saw his tomb at Dumfries. His name, of +course, is known all about: his great reputation among the plodding +people is, 'that he wrote a good _mony_ sensible things'. One of the +pleasantest means of annulling self is approaching such a shrine as +the Cottage of Burns: we need not think of his misery--that is all +gone, bad luck to it! I shall look upon it hereafter with unmixed +pleasure, as I do my Stratford-on-Avon day with Bailey. I shall fill +this sheet for you in the Bardie's country, going no further than +this, till I get to the town of Ayr, which will be a nine miles' walk +to tea. + +We were talking on different and indifferent things, when, on a +sudden, we turned a corner upon the immediate country of Ayr. The +sight was as rich as possible. I had no conception that the native +place of Burns was so beautiful; the idea I had was more desolate: his +'_Rigs of Barley_' seemed always to me but a few strips of green on a +cold hill--Oh, prejudice!--It was as rich as Devon. I endeavoured +to drink in the prospect, that I might spin it out to you, as the +silkworm makes silk from mulberry leaves. I cannot recollect it. +Besides all the beauty, there were the mountains of Arran Isle, black +and huge over the sea. We came down upon everything suddenly; there +were in our way the 'bonny Doon', with the brig that Tam o' Shanter +crossed, Kirk Alloway, Burns's Cottage, and then the Brigs of Ayr. +First we stood upon the Bridge across the Doon, surrounded by every +phantasy of green in tree, meadow, and hill: the stream of the Doon, +as a farmer told us, is covered with trees 'from head to foot'. +You know those beautiful heaths, so fresh against the weather of a +summer's evening; there was one stretching along behind the trees. + +I wish I knew always the humour my friends would be in at opening +a letter of mine, to suit it to them as nearly as possible. I could +always find an egg-shell for melancholy, and, as for merriment, a +witty humour will turn anything to account. My head is sometimes in +such a whirl in considering the million likings and antipathies of our +moments, that I can get into no settled strain in my letters. My wig! +Burns and sentimentality coming across you and Frank Floodgate in the +office. Oh, Scenery, that thou shouldst be crushed between two puns! +As for them, I venture the rascalliest in the Scotch region. I hope +Brown does not put them in his journal: if he does, I must sit on the +cutty-stool all next winter. We went to Kirk Alloway. 'A prophet is +no prophet in his own country.' We went to the Cottage and took some +whisky. I wrote a sonnet for the mere sake of writing some lines under +the roof: they are so bad I cannot transcribe them. The man at the +cottage was a great bore with his anecdotes. I hate the rascal. His +life consists in fuzy, fuzzy, fuzziest. He drinks glasses, five for +the quarter, and twelve for the hour; he is a mahogany-faced old +jackass who knew Burns: he ought to have been kicked for having spoken +to him. He calls himself 'a curious old bitch', but he is a flat +old dog. I should like to employ Caliph Vathek to kick him. Oh, the +flummery of a birthplace! Cant! cant! cant! It is enough to give +a spirit the guts-ache. Many a true word, they say, is spoken in +jest--this may be because his gab hindered my sublimity: the flat dog +made me write a flat sonnet. My dear Reynolds, I cannot write about +scenery and visitings. Fancy is indeed less than a present palpable +reality, but it is greater than remembrance. You would lift your eyes +from Homer only to see close before you the real Isle of Tenedos. You +would rather read Homer afterwards than remember yourself. One song +of Burns's is of more worth to you than all I could think for a whole +year in his native country. His misery is a dead weight upon the +nimbleness of one's quill; I tried to forget it--to drink toddy +without any care--to write a merry sonnet--it won't do--he talked, he +drank with blackguards; he was miserable. We can see horribly clear, +in the works of such a man, his whole life, as if we were God's +spies.... + + + +TO RICHARD WOODHOUSE + +_The poetic character_ + + +Hampstead, 27 _Oct_. 1818. + +MY DEAR WOODHOUSE, + +Your letter gave me great satisfaction, more on account of its +friendliness than any relish of that matter in it which is accounted +so acceptable in the _genus irritabile_. The best answer I can +give you is in a clerklike manner to make some observations on two +principal points which seem to point like indices into the midst of +the whole _pro_ and _con_ about genius, and views, and achievements, +and ambition, _et coetera_. 1st. As to the poetical character itself +(I mean that sort, of which, if I am anything, I am a member; that +sort distinguished from the Wordsworthian, or egotistical sublime; +which is a thing _per se_, and stands alone), it is not itself--it has +no self--it is everything and nothing--it has no character--it enjoys +light and shade--it lives in gusto, be it foul or fair, high or low, +rich or poor, mean or elevated--it has as much delight in conceiving +an Iago as an Imogen. What shocks the virtuous philosopher delights +the chameleon poet. It does no harm from its relish of the dark side +of things, any more than from its taste for the bright one, because +they both end in speculation. A poet is the most unpoetical of +anything in existence, because he has no identity; he is continually +in for, and filling, some other body. The sun, the moon, the sea, and +men and women, who are creatures of impulse, are poetical, and have +about them an unchangeable attribute; the poet has none, no identity. +He is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's creatures. If, then, +he has no self, and if I am a poet, where is the wonder that I should +say I would write no more? Might I not at that very instant have been +cogitating on the characters of Saturn and Ops? It is a wretched thing +to confess, but it is a very fact, that not one word I ever utter can +be taken for granted as an opinion growing out of my identical nature. +How can it, when I have no nature? When I am in a room with people, +if I ever am free from speculating on creations of my own brain, then, +not myself goes home to myself, but the identity of every one in the +room begins to press upon me, [so] that I am in a very little time +annihilated--not only among men; it would be the same in a nursery of +children. I know not whether I make myself wholly understood: I hope +enough so to let you see that no dependence is to be placed on what I +said that day. + +In the second place, I will speak of my views, and of the life I +purpose to myself. I am ambitious of doing the world some good: if +I should be spared, that may be the work of maturer years--in the +interval I will assay to reach to as high a summit in poetry as the +nerve bestowed upon me will suffer. The faint conceptions I have of +poems to come bring the blood frequently into my forehead. All I +hope is, that I may not lose all interest in human affairs--that +the solitary indifference I feel for applause, even from the finest +spirits, will not blunt any acuteness of vision I may have. I do not +think it will. I feel assured I should write from the mere yearning +and fondness I have for the beautiful, even if my night's labours +should be burnt every morning, and no eye ever shine upon them. +But even now I am perhaps not speaking from myself, but from some +character in whose soul I now live ... + + + +TO PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +_Returning advice_ + + +Hampstead, 10 _Aug_. 1820. + +MY DEAR SHELLEY, + +I am very much gratified that you, in a foreign country, and with a +mind almost over-occupied, should write to me in the strain of the +letter beside me. If I do not take advantage of your invitation, +it will be prevented by a circumstance I have very much at heart to +prophesy. There is no doubt that an English winter would put an end to +me, and do so in a lingering, hateful manner. Therefore, I must either +voyage or journey to Italy, as a soldier marches up to a battery. +My nerves at present are the worst part of me, yet they feel soothed +that, come what extreme may, I shall not be destined to remain in one +spot long enough to take a hatred of any four particular bedposts. I +am glad you take any pleasure in my poor poem, which I would willingly +take the trouble to unwrite, if possible, did I care so much as I +have done about reputation. I received a copy of the _Cenci_, as from +yourself, from Hunt. There is only one part of it I am judge of--the +poetry and dramatic effect, which by many spirits nowadays is +considered the Mammon. A modern work, it is said, must have a purpose, +which may be the God. An artist must serve Mammon; he must have +'self-concentration'--selfishness, perhaps. You, I am sure, +will forgive me for sincerely remarking that you might curb your +magnanimity, and be more of an artist, and load every rift of your +subject with ore. The thought of such discipline must fall like cold +chains upon you, who perhaps never sat with your wings furled for six +months together. And is not this extraordinary talk for the writer of +_Endymion_, whose mind was like a pack of scattered cards? I am picked +up and sorted to a pip. My imagination is a monastery, and I am its +monk. I am in expectation of _Prometheus_ every day. Could I have my +own wish effected, you would have it still in manuscript, or be but +now putting an end to the second act. I remember you advising me not +to publish my first blights, on Hampstead Heath. I am returning advice +upon your hands. Most of the poems in the volume I send you have been +written above two years, and would never have been published but for a +hope of gain; so you see I am inclined enough to take your advice now. +I must express once more my deep sense of your kindness, adding my +sincere thanks and respects for Mrs. Shelley. In hope of soon seeing +you-- + + + +To CHARLES BROWN + +_A despairing cry_ + + +Naples, 1 _Nov_. [1820.] + +MY DEAR BROWN, + +Yesterday we were let out of quarantine, during which my health +suffered more from bad air and the stifled cabin than it had done the +whole voyage. The fresh air revived me a little, and I hope I am well +enough this morning to write to you a short calm letter;--if that can +be called one, in which I am afraid to speak of what I would +fainest dwell upon. As I have gone thus far into it, I must go on +a little;--perhaps it may relieve the load of _wretchedness_ which +presses upon me. The persuasion that I shall see her no more will kill +me. My dear Brown, I should have had her when I was in health, and I +should have remained well. I can bear to die--I cannot bear to leave +her. Oh, God! God! God! Everything I have in my trunks that reminds +me of her goes through me like a spear. The silk lining she put in my +travelling cap scalds my head. My imagination is horribly vivid +about her--I see her--I hear her. There is nothing in the world of +sufficient interest to divert me from her a moment. This was the case +when I was in England: I cannot recollect, without shuddering, the +time that I was a prisoner at Hunt's, and used to keep my eyes +fixed on Hampstead all day. Then there was a good hope of seeing +her again--Now!--O that I could be buried near where she lives! I +am afraid to write to her--to receive a letter from her--to see her +handwriting would break my heart--even to hear of her anyhow, to see +her name written, would be more than I can bear. My dear Brown, what +am I to do? Where can I look for consolation or ease? If I had any +chance of recovery, this passion would kill me. Indeed, through the +whole of my illness, both at your house and at Kentish Town, this +fever has never ceased wearing me out. When you write to me, which you +will do immediately, write to Rome (_poste restante_)--if she is well +and happy, put a mark thus +; if-- + +Remember me to all. I will endeavour to bear my miseries patiently. +A person in my state of health should not have such miseries to bear. +Write a short note to my sister, saying you have heard from me. Severn +is very well. If I were in better health I would urge your coming to +Rome. I fear there is no one can give me any comfort. Is there any +news of George? O that something fortunate had ever happened to me or +my brothers!--then I might hope,--but despair is forced upon me as a +habit. My dear Brown, for my sake, be her advocate for ever. I +cannot say a word about Naples; I do not feel at all concerned in the +thousand novelties around me. I am afraid to write to her. I should +like her to know that I do not forget her. Oh, Brown, I have coals of +fire in my breast. It surprises me that the human heart is capable of +containing and bearing so much misery. Was I born for this end? God +bless her, and her mother, and my sister, and George, and his wife, +and you, and all!... + + + + +THOMAS HOOD + +1799-1845 + + + +To CHARLES DICKENS + +_American Notes_ + + +17 Elm Tree Road, 12 _Oct_. 1842. + +DEAR DICKENS, + +Can you let me have an early copy of the _American Notes_ so that I +may review it in the _New Monthly_? Is it really likely to be ready +as advertised? I aim this at Devonshire Place, supposing you to be +returned, for with these winds 'tis no fit time for the coast. But +your bones are not so weather unwise (for ignorance _is_ bliss) as +mine. I should have asked this by word of mouth in Devonshire Place, +but the weather has kept me indoors. It is no fiction that the +complaint, derived from Dutch malaria seven years ago, is revived by +Easterly winds. Otherwise I have been better than usual, and 'never +say die'. Don't forget about the Yankee Notes. I never had but one +American friend, and lost him through _a good crop of pears_. He paid +us a visit in England; whereupon in honour of him, a pear tree, which +had never borne fruit to speak of within memory of man, was loaded +with ninety dozen of brown somethings. Our gardener said they were +a _keeping_ sort, and would be good at Christmas; whereupon, as our +Jonathan was on the eve of sailing for the States, we sent him a few +dozens to dessert him on the voyage. Some he put at the bottom of a +trunk (he wrote to us) to take to America; but he could not have been +gone above a day or two, when all _our_ pears began to rot! _His_ +would, of course, by sympathy, and I presume spoilt his linen or +clothes, for I have never heard of him since. Perhaps he thought I had +_done_ him on purpose, and for sartin the tree, my accomplice, never +bore any more pears, good or bad, after that supernatural crop. + +Pray present my respects for me to Mrs. Dickens. How she must enjoy +being at home and discovering her children, after her Columbusing, and +only discovering America! + + + +TO THE MANCHESTER ATHENAEUM + +_The uses of literature_ + + +(From my bed) + +17 Elm Tree Road, St. John's Wood, 18 _July_, 1843. + +GENTLEMEN, + +If my humble name can be of the least use for your purpose, it is +heartily at your service, with my best wishes for the prosperity of +the Manchester Athenaeum, and my warmest approval of the objects of +that Institution. + +I have elsewhere recorded my own deep obligations to Literature--that +a natural turn for reading, and intellectual pursuits, probably +preserved me from the moral shipwreck so apt to befall those who are +deprived in early life of the paternal pilotage. At the very least my +books kept me aloof from the ring, the dog-pit, the tavern, and the +saloons, with their degrading orgies. For the closet associate of Pope +and Addison, the mind accustomed to the noble, though silent discourse +of Shakespeare and Milton, will hardly seek, or put up with low +company and slang. The reading animal will not be content with the +brutish wallowings that satisfy the unlearned pigs of the world. +Later experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that +literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow; how powerfully +intellectual pursuits can help in keeping the head from crazing, and +the heart from breaking; nay, not to be too grave, how generous mental +food can even atone for a meagre diet; rich fare on the paper, for +short commons on the cloth. + +Poisoned by the malaria of the Dutch marshes, my stomach for many +months resolutely set itself against fish, flesh, or fowl; my appetite +had no more edge than the German knife placed before me. But luckily +the mental palate and digestion were still sensible and vigorous; and +whilst I passed untasted every dish at the Rhenish table-d'-hote, +I could still enjoy my _Peregrine Pickle_, and the feast after the +manner of the Ancients. There was no yearning towards calf's head +_a la tortue_, or sheep's heart; but I could still relish Head _a la +Brunnen_, and the _Heart of Mid-Lothian._ Still more recently it was +my misfortune, with a tolerable appetite, to be condemned to Lenten +fare, like Sancho Panza, by my physician, to a diet, in fact, lower +than any prescribed by the Poor-Law Commissioners, all animal food, +from a bullock to a rabbit, being strictly interdicted, as well as +all fluids stronger than that which lays dust, washes pinafores, and +waters polyanthus. But the feast of reason and the flow of soul were +still mine! + +Denied beef, I had Bulwer and Cowper; forbidden mutton, there was +Lamb; and in lieu of pork, the great Bacon, or Hogg. Then as to +beverage; it was hard, doubtless, for a Christian to set his face, +like a Turk, against the juice of the grape. But, eschewing wine, +I had still my Butler; and in the absence of liquor, all the Choice +Spirits from Tom Browne to Tom Moore. Thus though confined physically +to the drink that drowns kittens, I quaffed mentally, not merely the +best of our own home-made, but the rich, racy, sparkling growths of +France and Italy, of Germany and Spain; the champagne of Moliere, the +Monte Pulciano of Boccaccio, the hock of Schiller, and the sherry of +Cervantes. Depressed bodily by the fluid that damps everything, I got +intellectually elevated with Milton, a little merry with Swift, or +rather jolly with Rabelais, whose Pantagruel, by the way, is equal to +the best gruel with rum in it. + +So far can Literature palliate, or compensate, for gastronomical +privations. But there are other evils, great and small, in this world, +which try the stomach less than the head, the heart, and the temper; +bowls that will not roll right, well-laid schemes that will 'gang +aglee', and ill winds that blow with the pertinacity of the monsoon. +Of these Providence has allotted me a full share, but still, +paradoxical as it may sound, my _burthen_ has been greatly lightened +by a _load of books_. The manner of this will be best understood by a +_feline_ illustration. Everybody has heard of the two Kilkenny cats, +who devoured each other; but it is not so generally known, that they +left behind them an orphan kitten, which, true to its breed, began to +eat itself up, till it was diverted from the operation by a mouse. Now +the human mind, under vexation, is like that kitten, for it is apt to +_prey upon itself_, unless drawn off by a new object, and none better +for the purpose than a book. For example, one of Defoe's; for who, +in reading his thrilling _History of the Great Plague_, would not be +reconciled to a few little ones? + +Many, many a dreary weary hour have I got over--many a gloomy +misgiving postponed--many a mental and bodily annoyance forgotten by +help of the tragedies, and comedies, of our dramatists and novelists! +Many a trouble has been soothed by the still small voice of the moral +philosopher; many a dragon-like care charmed to sleep by the sweet +song of the poet! For all which I cry incessantly, not aloud, but in +my heart, 'Thanks and honour to the glorious masters of the pen, and +the great inventors of the press!' Such has been my own experience of +the blessing and comfort of literature and intellectual pursuits; +and of the same mind, doubtless, was Sir Humphry Davy, who went for +_Consolations in Travel_, not to the inn, or the posting-house, but to +his library and his books. + + + +To DR. MOIR + +_A humourist to the last_ + + +[1845.] + +DEAR MOIR, + +God bless you and yours, and good-bye! I drop these few lines, as in a +bottle from a ship water-logged, and on the brink of foundering, being +in the last stage of dropsical debility; but though suffering in body, +serene in mind. So without reversing my union-jack, I await my last +lurch. Till which, believe me, dear Moir, + +Yours most truly. + + + +To SIR ROBERT PEEL + +_A farewell letter_ + + +Devonshire Lodge, New Finchley Road, [1845]. + +DEAR SIR, + +We are not to meet in the flesh. Given over by my physicians and by +myself, I am only kept alive by frequent instalments of mulled port +wine. In this extremity I feel a comfort, for which I cannot refrain +from again thanking you, with all the sincerity of a dying man,--and, +at the same time, bidding you a respectful farewell. + +Thank God my mind is composed and my reason undisturbed, but my race +as an author is run. My physical debility finds no tonic virtue in +a steel pen, otherwise I would have written one more paper--a +forewarning one--against an evil, or the danger of it, arising from +a literary movement in which I have had some share, a one-sided +humanity, opposite to that Catholic Shakespearian sympathy, which +felt with King as well as Peasant, and duly estimated the mortal +temptations of both stations. Certain classes at the poles of Society +are already too far asunder; it should be the duty of our writers to +draw them nearer by kindly attraction, not to aggravate the existing +repulsion, and place a wider moral gulf between Rich and Poor, with +Hate on the one side and Fear on the other. But I am too weak for this +task, the last I had set myself; it is death that stops my pen, you +see, and not the pension. + +God bless you, Sir, and prosper all your measures for the benefit of +my beloved country. + + + + +ROBERT BROWNING + +1812-1889 + + +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING + +1806-1861 + + + +To LEIGH HUNT + +_A joint epistle_ + + +Bagni di Lucca, 6 _Oct_. 1857. + +DEAR LEIGH HUNT, + +(It is hard to write, but you bade me do so; yet I had better say +'Master Hunt', as they used to call Webster or Ford.) A nine months' +silence after such a letter as yours seems too strange even to you +perhaps. So understand that you gave us more delight at once than we +could bear, that was the beginning of the waiting to recover spirit +and try and do one's feeling a little less injustice. But soon +followed unexpected sorrows to us and to you, and the expression of +even gratitude grew hard again. Certainly all this while your letter +has been laid before our very eyes, and we have waited for a brighter +day than ever came till we left Florence two months ago and more, then +we brought it to 'answer' among the chestnut trees; but immediately +on our arrival a friend was attacked by fever, and we were kept in +anxiety about him for six weeks. At last he recovered sufficiently to +leave for Florence, and (just think) our little boy became ill, +for the first time in his life, and gave us solicitude enough for a +fortnight: it is nothing now that it is over; he is going about now +almost as well as before, and we go away to-morrow, as I said. But I +will try and get one, at least, of the joys I came to find here, and +really write to you from this place, as I meant to do. '_I_'--you +know it is my wife that I write for, though you entangle and distract +either of us by the reverberations (so to speak) of pleasures over and +above the pleasure you give us. I intend to say, that you praise that +poem, and mix it up with praise of her very self, and then give it to +me directly, and then give it to _her_ with the pride you have just +given me, and then it somehow comes back to me increased so far, till +the effect is just as you probably intended. I wish my wife may know +you more: I wish you may see and know her more, but you cannot live +by her eleven years, as I have done--or yes, what cannot you do, being +the man, the poet you are? This last word, I dare think, I have a +right to say; I _have_ always venerated you as a poet; I believe your +poetry to be sure of its eventual reward; other people, not unlikely, +may feel like me, that there has been no need of getting into feverish +haste to cry out on what is; yet you, who wrote it, can leave it and +look at other poetry, and speak so of it: how well of you! + +I am still too near the production of _Aurora Leigh_ to be quite able +to see it all; my wife used to write it, and lay it down to hear our +child spell, or when a visitor came,--it was thrust under the cushion +then. At Paris, a year ago last March, she gave me the first six books +to read, I having never seen a line before. She then wrote the rest, +and transcribed them in London, where I read them also. I wish, in +one sense, that I had written and she had read it.... I shall commend +myself to you by telling you this. Indeed, the proper acknowledgement +of your letter seems to be that one should do something, not say +something. If you were here, I might quite naturally begin repeating +_Giaffar_ or _Solomon_, and the rest. You would see whether I was not +capable of getting all the good out of your praise. + +While I write, there is a strange thing that happened last night +impossible to get out of my thoughts. It may give you pain to tell you +of it, yet if with the pain come triumphant memories and hopes, as I +expect there will, you may choose the pain with them. What decides me +to tell it is that I heard you years ago allude to the destruction of +a volume of _Lamia, Isabella, &c., to be restored to you yet_--now you +remember; also, I think, of your putting my name near Shelley's in the +end of your letter, where you say 'since I lost Shelley'. Is it not +strange that I should have transcribed for the first time, last night, +the _Indian Serenade_ that, together with some verses of Metastasio, +accompanied that book? That I should have been reserved to tell +the present possessor of them--to whom they were given by Captain +Roberts--_what_ the poem _was, and that it had been published_! It is +preserved religiously; but the characters are all but illegible, and +I needed a good magnifying-glass to be quite sure of such of them as +remain. The end is that I have rescued three or four variations in the +reading of that divine little poem, as one reads it, at least, in the +_Posthumous Poems_. It is headed the _Indian_ _Serenade_ (not _Lines +to an Indian Air_). In the first stanza the seventh line is 'Hath led +me'; in the second, the third line is 'And the champak's odours fail'; +and the eighth, 'O! Beloved as thou art!' In the last stanza, the +seventh line was, 'Oh, press it to thine own again.' Are not all these +better readings? (even to the 'Hath' for 'Has'.) There, I give them +you as you gave us Milton's hair. If I have mistaken in telling you, +you will understand and forgive. + +I think I will ask my wife to say a word or two so I shall be sure +that you forgive. Now let my wife say the remainder. All I have +wished to do--know how little likely it was that I should succeed in +that--was to assure you of my pride and affectionate gratitude.--God +bless you ever, + +R.B. + + +Dear friend, I will say; for I feel it must be something as good as +friendship that can forgive and understand this silence, so much like +the veriest human kind of ingratitude. When I look back and think--all +this time after that letter, and not a sign made--I wonder. Yet, +if you knew! First of all, we were silent because we waited for +information which you seemed to desire.... Then there were sadder +reasons. Poor _Aurora_, that you were so more than kind to (oh, how +can I think of it?), has been steeped in tears, and some of them of a +very bitter sort. Your letter was addressed to my husband, you knowing +by your delicate true instinct where your praise would give most +pleasure; but I believe Robert had not the heart to write when I felt +that I should not have the spirits to add a word in the proper key. +When we came here from Florence a few months ago to get repose and +cheerfulness from the sight of the mountains, we said to ourselves +that we would speak to you at ease--instead of which the word was +taken from our own mouth, and we have done little but sit by sick beds +and meditate on gastric fevers. So disturbed we have been--so sad! our +darling precious child the last victim. To see him lying still on his +golden curls, with cheeks too scarlet to suit the poor patient eyes, +looking so frightfully like an angel! It was very hard. But this is +over, I do thank God, and we are on the point of carrying back our +treasure with us to Florence to-morrow, quite recovered, if a little +thinner and weaker, and the young voice as merry as ever. You are +aware that that child I am more proud of than twenty _Auroras_, even +after Leigh Hunt has praised them. He is eight years old, has never +been '_crammed_', but reads English, Italian, French, German, and +plays the piano--then, is the sweetest child! sweeter than he looks. +When he was ill, he said to me, 'You pet! don't be unhappy about +_me_. Think it's a boy in the street, and be a little sorry, but not +unhappy.' Who could not be unhappy, I wonder? + +I never saw your book called the _Religion of the Heart._ It's the +only book of yours I never saw, and I mean to wipe out that reproach +on the soonest day possible. I receive more dogmas, perhaps (my +'perhaps' being in the dark rather), than you do. I believe in the +divinity of Jesus Christ in the intensest sense--that he was God +absolutely. But for the rest, I am very unorthodox--about the spirit, +the flesh, and the devil, and if you would not let me sit by you, a +great many churchmen wouldn't; in fact, churches do all of them, as at +present constituted, seem too narrow and low to hold true Christianity +in its proximate developments. I, at least, cannot help believing them +so. + +My dear friend, can we dare, after our sins against you--can we dare +_wish_ for a letter from you sometimes? Ask, we dare not. May God +bless you. Even if you had not praised me and made me so grateful, +I should be grateful to you for three things--for your poetry (that +first), then for Milton's hair, and then for the memory I have of +our visit to you, when you sat in that chair and spoke so mildly and +deeply at once. + +Let me be ever affectionately yours, + +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. + + + + +CHARLOTTE BRONTE + +1816-1855 + + + +TO A FRIEND + +_Trials of a governess_ + + +_July_ 1839. + +I cannot procure ink, without going into the drawing-room, where I do +not wish to go.... I should have written to you long since, and told +you every detail of the utterly new scene into which I have lately +been cast, had I not been daily expecting a letter from yourself, and +wondering and lamenting that you did not write; for you will remember +it was your turn. I must not bother you too much with my sorrows, of +which, I fear, you have heard an exaggerated account. If you were near +me, perhaps I might be tempted to tell you all, to grow egotistical, +and pour out the long history of a private governess's trials and +crosses in her first situation. As it is, I will only ask you to +imagine the miseries of a reserved wretch like me, thrown at once into +the midst of a large family--proud as peacocks and wealthy as Jews--at +a time when they were particularly gay--when the house was filled with +company--all strangers--people whose faces I had never seen before. +In this state I had charge given me of a set of pampered, spoilt, +turbulent children, whom I was expected constantly to amuse, as well +as to instruct. I soon found that the constant demand on my stock +of animal spirits reduced them to the lowest state of exhaustion; at +times I felt--and, I suppose, seemed--depressed. To my astonishment, +I was taken to task on the subject by Mrs.----, with a sternness of +manner and a harshness of language scarcely credible; like a fool, I +cried most bitterly. I could not help it; my spirits quite failed me +at first. I thought I had done my best--strained every nerve to please +her; and to be treated in that way, merely because I was shy and +sometimes melancholy, was too bad. At first I was for giving all up +and going home. But, after a little reflection, I determined to summon +what energy I had, and to weather the storm. I said to myself, 'I have +never yet quitted a place without gaining a friend; adversity is +a good school; the poor are born to labour, and the dependent to +endure.' I resolved to be patient, to command my feelings, and to take +what came; the ordeal, I reflected, would not last many weeks, and I +trusted it would do me good. I recollected the fable of the willow and +the oak; I bent quietly, and now, I trust, the storm is blowing over +me. Mrs. ---- is generally considered an agreeable woman; so she is, I +doubt not, in general society. Her health is sound, her animal spirits +good, consequently she is cheerful in company; but oh! does this +compensate for the absence of every fine feeling--of every gentle and +delicate sentiment? She behaves somewhat more civilly to me now than +she did at first, and the children are a little more manageable; but +she does not know my character, and she does not wish to know it. +I have never had five minutes' conversation with her since I came, +except while she was scolding me. I have no wish to be pitied, except +by yourself; if I were talking to you I could tell you much more. + + + +To WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + +_Thanks for advice_ + + +[1840.] + +... Authors are generally very tenacious of their productions, but I +am not so much attached to this but that I can give it up without +much distress. No doubt, if I had gone on, I should have made quite +a Richardsonian concern of it.... I had materials in my head for +half-a-dozen volumes.... Of course, it is with considerable regret I +relinquish any scheme so charming as the one I have sketched. It is +very edifying and profitable to create a world out of your own brains, +and people it with inhabitants, who are so many Melchisedecs, and have +no father nor mother but your own imagination.... I am sorry I did +not exist fifty or sixty years ago, when the _Ladies' Magazine_ was +flourishing like a green bay tree. In that case, I make no doubt, my +aspirations after literary fame would have met with due encouragement, +and I should have had the pleasure of introducing Messrs. Percy and +West into the very best society, and recording all their sayings and +doings in double-columned close-printed pages.... I recollect, when I +was a child, getting hold of some antiquated volumes, and reading +them by stealth with the most exquisite pleasure. You give a correct +description of the patient Grisels of those days. My aunt was one of +them; and to this day she thinks the tales of the _Ladies' Magazine_ +infinitely superior to any trash of modern literature. So do I; for +I read them in childhood, and childhood has a very strong faculty of +admiration, but a very weak one of criticism.... I am pleased that +you cannot quite decide whether I am an attorney's clerk or a +novel-reading dressmaker. I will not help you at all in the discovery; +and as to my handwriting, or the ladylike touches in my style and +imagery, you must not draw any conclusion from that--I may employ an +amanuensis. Seriously, sir, I am very much obliged to you for your +kind and candid letter. I almost wonder you took the trouble to read +and notice the novelette of an anonymous scribe, who had not even the +manners to tell you whether he was a man or a woman, or whether his +'C.T.' meant Charles Timms or Charlotte Tomkins. + + + +TO A FRIEND + +_At school abroad_ + + +Brussels [c. _May_ 1842]. + +I was twenty-six years old a week or two since; and at this ripe time +of life I am a school-girl, and, on the whole, very happy in that +capacity. It felt very strange at first to submit to authority instead +of exercising it--to obey orders instead of giving them; but I like +that state of things. I returned to it with the same avidity that a +cow, that has long been kept on dry hay, returns to fresh grass. Don't +laugh at my simile. It is natural to me to submit, and very unnatural +to command. + +This is a large school, in which there are about forty externes, or +day-pupils, and twelve pensionnaires, or boarders. Madame Heger, +the head, is a lady of precisely the same cast of mind, degree of +cultivation, and quality of intellect as Miss ----. I think the severe +points are a little softened, because she has not been disappointed, +and consequently soured. In a word, she is a married instead of a +maiden lady. There are three teachers in the school--Mademoiselle +Blanche, Mademoiselle Sophie, and Mademoiselle Marie. The two first +have no particular character. One is an old maid, and the other will +be one. Mademoiselle Marie is talented and original, but of repulsive +and arbitrary manners, which have made the whole school, except myself +and Emily, her bitter enemies. No less than seven masters attend, to +teach the different branches of education--French, Drawing, Music, +Singing, Writing, Arithmetic, and German. All in the house are +Catholics except ourselves, one other girl, and the gouvernante +of Madame's children, an Englishwoman, in rank something between a +lady's-maid and a nursery governess. The difference in country and +religion makes a broad line of demarcation between us and all the +rest. We are completely isolated in the midst of numbers. Yet I think +I am never unhappy; my present life is so delightful, so congenial to +my own nature, compared to that of a governess. My time, constantly +occupied, passes too rapidly. Hitherto both Emily and I have had good +health, and therefore we have been able to work well. There is one +individual of whom I have not yet spoken--M. Heger, the husband of +Madame. He is professor of rhetoric, a man of power as to mind, but +very choleric and irritable in temperament. He is very angry with me +just at present, because I have written a translation which he chose +to stigmatize as '_peu correcte_'. He did not tell me so, but wrote +the word on the margin of my book, and asked, in brief stern phrase, +how it happened that my compositions were always better than my +translations? adding that the thing seemed to him inexplicable. The +fact is, some weeks ago, in a high-flown humour, he forbade me to use +either dictionary or grammar in translating the most difficult English +compositions into French. This makes the task rather arduous, and +compels me every now and then to introduce an English word, which +nearly plucks the eyes out of his head when he sees it. Emily and he +don't draw well together at all. Emily works like a horse, and she has +had great difficulties to contend with--far greater than I have +had. Indeed, those who come to a French school for instruction ought +previously to have acquired a considerable knowledge of the French +language, otherwise they will lose a great deal of time, for the +course of instruction is adapted to natives and not to foreigners; +and in these large establishments they will not change their ordinary +course for one or two strangers. The few private lessons that M. Heger +has vouchsafed to give us, are, I suppose, to be considered a great +favour; and I can perceive they have already excited much spite and +jealousy in the school. + +You will abuse this letter for being short and dreary, and there are a +hundred things which I want to tell you, but I have not time. Brussels +is a beautiful city. The Belgians hate the English. Their external +morality is more rigid than ours. To lace the stays without a +handkerchief on the neck is considered a disgusting piece of +indelicacy. + + + +To A FRIEND + +_Curates to tea_ + + +[1845.] + +You thought I refused you coldly, did you? It was a queer sort of +coldness, when I would have given my ears to say Yes, and was obliged +to say No. Matters, however, are now a little changed. Anne is come +home, and her presence certainly makes me feel more at liberty. Then, +if all be well, I will come and see you. Tell me only when I must +come. Mention the week and the day. Have the kindness also to answer +the following queries, if you can. How far is it from Leeds to +Sheffield? Can you give me a notion of the cost? Of course, when I +come, you will let me enjoy your own company in peace, and not drag me +out a-visiting. I have no desire at all to see your curate. I think he +must be like all the other curates I have seen; and they seem to me +a self-seeking, vain, empty race. At this blessed moment, we have no +less than three of them in Haworth parish--and there is not one to +mend another. The other day, they all three, accompanied by Mr. S., +dropped, or rather rushed, in unexpectedly to tea. It was Monday +(baking-day), and I was hot and tired; still, if they had behaved +quietly and decently, I would have served them out their tea in peace; +but they began glorifying themselves, and abusing Dissenters in such +a manner, that my temper lost its balance, and I pronounced a few +sentences sharply and rapidly, which struck them all dumb. Papa was +greatly horrified also, but I don't regret it. + + + +To GEORGE HENRY LEWES + +_Herself and Miss Austen_ + + +12 _Jan_. 1848. + +Dear Sir, + +I thank you then sincerely for your generous review; and it is with +the sense of double content I express my gratitude, because I am now +sure the tribute is not superfluous or obtrusive. You were not severe +on _Jane Eyre_; you were very lenient. I am glad you told me my faults +plainly in private, for in your public notice you touch on them so +lightly, I should perhaps have passed them over, thus indicated, with +too little reflection. + +I mean to observe your warning about being careful how I undertake new +works; my stock of materials is not abundant, but very slender; and +besides, neither my experience, my acquirements, nor my powers, are +sufficiently varied to justify my ever becoming a frequent writer. I +tell you this, because your article in _Fraser_ left in me an uneasy +impression that you were disposed to think better of the author of +_Jane Eyre_ than that individual deserved; and I would rather you had +a correct than a flattering opinion of me, even though I should never +see you. + +If I ever _do_ write another book, I think I will have nothing of what +you call 'melodrama'; I _think_ so, but I am not sure. I _think_, +too, I will endeavour to follow the counsel which shines out of +Miss Austen's 'mild eyes', 'to finish more and be more subdued'; but +neither am I sure of that. When authors write best, or at least, when +they write most fluently, an influence seems to waken in them, which +becomes their master--which will have its own way--putting out of view +all behests but its own, dictating certain words, and insisting +on their being used, whether vehement or measured in their nature; +new-moulding characters, giving unthought-of turns to incidents, +rejecting carefully-elaborated old ideas, and suddenly creating and +adopting new ones. + +Is it not so? And should we try to counteract this influence? Can we +indeed counteract it? + + * * * * * + +Why do you like Miss Austen so very much? I am puzzled on that point. +What induced you to say that you would have rather written _Pride and +Prejudice_, or _Tom Jones_, than any of the Waverley Novels? + +I had not seen _Pride and Prejudice_ till I read that sentence of +yours, and then I got the book. And what did I find? An accurate, +daguerreotyped portrait of a commonplace face; a carefully-fenced, +highly-cultivated garden, with neat borders and delicate flowers; but +no glance of a bright, vivid physiognomy, no open country, no fresh +air, no blue hill, no bonny beck. I should hardly like to live with +her ladies and gentlemen, in their elegant but confined houses. These +observations will probably irritate you, but I shall run the risk. + +Now I can understand admiration of George Sand; for though I never saw +any of her works which I admired throughout (even _Consuelo_, which +is the best, or the best that I have read, appears to me to couple +strange extravagance with wondrous excellence), yet she has a grasp of +mind, which, if I cannot fully comprehend, I can very deeply respect; +she is sagacious and profound;--Miss Austen is only shrewd and +observant. + +Am I wrong--or, were you hasty in what you said? If you have time, +I should be glad to hear further on this subject; if not, or if you +think the questions frivolous, do not trouble yourself to reply. + + + +TO THE SAME + +_The argument continued_ + + +18 _Jan_. 1848. + +Dear Sir, + +I must write you one more note, though I had not intended to trouble +you again so soon. I have to agree with you, and to differ from you. + +You correct my crude remarks on the subject of the 'influence'; well, +I accept your definition of what the effects of that influence should +be; I recognize the wisdom of your rules for its regulation.... + +What a strange lecture comes next in your letter! You say I must +familiarize my mind with the fact, that 'Miss Austen is not a poetess, +has no "sentiment"' (you scornfully enclose the word in inverted +commas), 'no eloquence, none of the ravishing enthusiasm of +poetry',--and then you add, I _must_ 'learn to acknowledge her as _one +of the greatest artists, of the greatest painters of human character_, +and one of the writers with the nicest sense of means to an end that +ever lived'. + +The last point only will I ever acknowledge. + +Can there be a great artist without poetry? + +What I call--what I will bend to, as a great artist then--cannot +be destitute of the divine gift. But by _poetry_, I am sure, you +understand something different to what I do, as you do by 'sentiment'. +It is _poetry_, as I comprehend the word, which elevates that +masculine George Sand, and makes out of something coarse, something +Godlike. It is 'sentiment', in my sense of the term--sentiment +jealously hidden, but genuine, which extracts the venom from that +formidable Thackeray, and converts what might be corrosive poison into +purifying elixir. + +If Thackeray did not cherish in his large heart deep feeling for his +kind, he would delight to exterminate; as it is, I believe, he wishes +only to reform. Miss Austen being, as you say, without 'sentiment', +without _poetry_, maybe _is_ sensible, real (more _real_ than _true_), +but she cannot be great. + +I submit to your anger, which I have now excited (for have I not +questioned the perfection of your darling?); the storm may pass over +me. Nevertheless, I will, when I can (I do not know when that will be, +as I have no access to a circulating library), diligently peruse all +Miss Austen's works, as you recommend.... You must forgive me for +not always being able to think as you do, and still believe me, Yours +gratefully. + + + +TO A FRIEND + +_Illness and death of Emily Bronte_ + + +23 _Nov_. 1848. + +I told you Emily was ill, in my last letter. She has not rallied yet. +She is _very_ ill. I believe, if you were to see her, your impression +would be that there is no hope. A more hollow, wasted, pallid aspect +I have not beheld. The deep tight cough continues; the breathing after +the least exertion is a rapid pant; and these symptoms are accompanied +by pains in the chest and side. Her pulse, the only time she allowed +it to be felt, was found to beat 115 per minute. In this state she +resolutely refuses to see a doctor; she will give no explanation of +her feelings, she will scarcely allow her feelings to be alluded to. +Our position is, and has been for some weeks, exquisitely painful. God +only knows how all this is to terminate. More than once, I have been +forced boldly to regard the terrible event of her loss as possible, +and even probable. But nature shrinks from such thoughts. I think +Emily seems the nearest thing to my heart in the world. + + * * * * * + +10 _Dec_. + +I hardly know what to say to you about the subject which now interests +me the most keenly of anything in this world, for, in truth, I hardly +know what to think myself. Hope and fear fluctuate daily. The pain in +her side and chest is better; the cough, the shortness of breath, the +extreme emaciation, continue. I have endured, however, such tortures +of uncertainty on this subject that, at length, I could endure it +no longer; and as her repugnance to seeing a medical man continues +immutable,--as she declares 'no poisoning doctor' shall come near +her,--I have written, unknown to her, to an eminent physician in +London, giving as minute a statement of her case and symptoms as I +could draw up, and requesting an opinion. I expect an answer in a day +or two. I am thankful to say that my own health at present is very +tolerable. It is well such is the case; for Anne, with the best will +in the world to be useful, is really too delicate to do or bear much. +She too, at present, has frequent pains in the side. Papa is also +pretty well, though Emily's state renders him very anxious. + + * * * * * + +_[Tuesday.]_ + +I should have written to you before, if I had had one word of hope to +say; but I have not. She grows daily weaker. The physician's opinion +was expressed too obscurely to be of use. He sent some medicine, which +she would not take. Moments so dark as these I have never known. I +pray for God's support to us all. Hitherto He has granted it. + + * * * * * + +21 _Dec_. 1848. + +Emily suffers no more from pain or weakness now. She never will suffer +more in this world. She is gone, after a hard, short conflict. She +died on _Tuesday_, the very day I wrote to you. I thought it very +possible she might be with us still for weeks; and a few hours +afterwards, she was in eternity. Yes; there is no Emily in time or +on earth now. Yesterday we put her poor, wasted, mortal frame quietly +under the church pavement. We are very calm at present. Why should we +be otherwise? The anguish of seeing her suffer is over; the spectacle +of the pains of death is gone by; the funeral day is past. We feel she +is at peace. No need now to tremble for the hard frost and the keen +wind. Emily does not feel them. She died in a time of promise. We saw +her taken from life in its prime. But it is God's will, and the place +where she is gone is better than that she has left. + +God has sustained me, in a way that I marvel at, through such agony +as I had not conceived. I now look at Anne, and wish she were well and +strong; but she is neither; nor is papa. Could you now come to us for +a few days? I would not ask you to stay long. Write and tell me if you +could come next week, and by what train. I would try to send a gig for +you to Keighley. You will, I trust, find us tranquil. Try to come. I +never so much needed the consolation of a friend's presence. Pleasure, +of course, there would be none for you in the visit, except what your +kind heart would teach you to find in doing good to others. + + + +To MR. G. SMITH + +_Thackeray and 'Esmond'_ + + +14 _Feb_. 1852. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +It has been a great delight to me to read Mr. Thackeray's work; and +I so seldom now express my sense of kindness that, for once, you must +permit me, without rebuke, to thank you for a pleasure so rare and +special. Yet I am not going to praise either Mr. Thackeray or his +book. I have read, enjoyed, been interested, and after all, feel full +as much ire and sorrow as gratitude and admiration. And still one +can never lay down a book of his without the two last feelings having +their part, be the subject or treatment what it may. In the first half +of the book, what chiefly struck me was the wonderful manner in which +the writer throws himself into the spirit and letters of the times +whereof he treats; the allusions, the illustrations, the style, +all seem to me so masterly in their exact keeping, their harmonious +consistency, their nice, natural truth, their pure exemption from +exaggeration. No second-rate imitator can write in that way; no coarse +scene-painter can charm us with an allusion so delicate and perfect. +But what bitter satire, what relentless dissection of diseased +subjects! Well, and this, too, is right, or would be right, if +the savage surgeon did not seem so fiercely pleased with his work. +Thackeray likes to dissect an ulcer or an aneurism; he has pleasure +in putting his cruel knife or probe into quivering, living flesh. +Thackeray would not like all the world to be good; no great satirist +would like society to be perfect. + +As usual, he is unjust to women; quite unjust. There is hardly any +punishment he does not deserve for making Lady Castlewood peep through +a keyhole, listen at a door, and be jealous of a boy and a milkmaid. +Many other things I noticed that, for my part, grieved and exasperated +me as I read; but then, again, came passages so true, so deeply +thought, so tenderly felt, one could not help forgiving and +admiring.... + +But I wish he could be told not to care much for dwelling on the +political or religious intrigues of the times. Thackeray, in his +heart, does not value political or religious intrigues of any age or +date. He likes to show us human nature at home, as he himself daily +sees it; his wonderful observant faculty likes to be in action. In him +this faculty is a sort of captain and leader; and if ever any passage +in his writings lacks interest, it is when this master-faculty is for +a time thrust into a subordinate position. I think such is the case in +the former half of the present volume. Towards the middle, he throws +off restraint, becomes himself, and is strong to the close. Everything +now depends on the second and third volumes. If, in pith and interest, +they fall short of the first, a true success cannot ensue. If the +continuation be an improvement upon the commencement, if the stream +gather force as it rolls, Thackeray will triumph. Some people have +been in the habit of terming him the second writer of the day; it just +depends on himself whether or not these critics shall be justified in +their award. He need not be the second. God made him second to no man. +If I were he, I would show myself as I am, not as critics report me; +at any rate, I would do my best. Mr. Thackeray is easy and indolent, +and seldom cares to do his best. Thank you once more; and believe +me--&c. + + + +TO THE SAME + +'_Esmond' again_ + + +10 _Nov_. 1852. + +... I have read the third volume of _Esmond._ I found it both +entertaining and exciting to me; it seems to possess an impetus and +excitement beyond the other two,--that movement and brilliancy its +predecessors sometimes wanted, never fails here. In certain passages, +I thought Thackeray used all his powers; their grand, serious force +yielded a profound satisfaction. 'At last he puts forth his strength,' +I could not help saying to myself. No character in the book strikes +me as more masterly than that of Beatrix; its conception is fresh, +and its delineation vivid. It is peculiar; it has impressions of a +new kind--new at least, to me. Beatrix is not, in herself, all bad. So +much does she sometimes reveal of what is good and great as to suggest +this feeling--you would think she was urged by a Fate. You would think +that some antique doom presses on her house, and that once in so +many generations its brightest ornament was to become its greatest +disgrace. At times, what is good in her struggles against this +terrible destiny, but the Fate conquers. Beatrix cannot be an honest +woman and a good man's wife. She 'tries, and she _cannot_'. Proud, +beautiful, and sullied, she was born what she becomes, a king's +mistress. I know not whether you have seen the notice in the _Leader_; +I read it just after concluding the book. Can I be wrong in deeming +it a notice tame, cold, and insufficient? With all its professed +friendliness, it produced on me a most disheartening impression. +Surely, another sort of justice than this will be rendered to _Esmond_ +from other quarters. One acute remark of the critic is to the effect +that Blanche Amory and Beatrix are identical--sketched from the same +original! To me they are about as identical as a weazel and a royal +tigress of Bengal; both the latter are quadrupeds,--both the former, +women. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected English Letters (XV - XIX +Centuries), by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS *** + +***** This file should be named 12515.txt or 12515.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/5/1/12515/ + +Produced by Dave Morgan, Bill Hershey and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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