I LETTER XXXVI. Mr. Gray to Mr. Walpole. September 1737. WAS hindered in my laft, and fo could not give you all the trouble I would have done. The defcription of a road, which your coach wheels have fo often honoured, it would be needlefs to give you; fuffice it that I arrived fafe* at my uncle's, who is a great hunter in imagi nation; his dogs take up every chair in the houfe, fo I am forced to ftand at this prefent writing; and though the gout forbids him galloping after them in the field, yet he continues ftill to regale his ears and nofe with their comfortable noife and flink. He holds me mighty cheap, I perceive, for walking when I fhould ride, and reading when I thould hunt. My comfort amidit all this is, that I have at the distance of half a mile, through a green lane, a foreft (the vulgar call it a common) all my own, at leaft as good as fo, for I fpy no human thing in it but myfelf. It is a little chaos of mountains and precipices; mountains, it is true, that do not afcend much above the clouds, nor are the declivities quite fo amazing as Dover cliff; but juft fuch hills as people who love their necks as well as I do may venture to climb, and crags that give the eye as much plea fure as if they were more dangerous both vale and hill are covered with moft venerable beeches, and other very reverend vegetables, that, like most other ancient people, are always dreaming out their cld fries to the winds, And as they bow their hoary tops relate, At Burnham in Buckinghamshire. : While vifions, as poetic eyes avowW, At the foot of one of these fquats me I for a whole morning. The timorous hare (il penferofo), and there grow to the trunk and fportive fquirrel gambol around me like Adam in Paradife, before he had an Eve; but I think he did not ufe to read Virgil, as I commonly do there. In this fituation I often converfe with my Horace, aloud too, that is talk to yeo, but I do not remember that I ever heard you anfwer me. I beg pardon for taking all the converfation to myfelf, but it is entirely your own fault. We have did Mr. Southern at a gentleman's houfe a little way off, who often comes to fee us; he is now feventy-feven years old †, and has almoft wholly lost his memory; b is as agreeable as an old man can be, at leaft 1 perfuade 'myfelf fo when I loos at him, and think of Ifabella and Oroonoko. I fhall be in town in about three weeks. Adieu. LETTER XXXVII. Burnham, Sept. 1737SYMPATHIZE with you in the sufferI ings which you forefee are coming upon you. We are both at prefent, I imagine, in no very agreeable fituation; for my part I am under the misfortune of having nothing to do, but it is a misfortune which, thank my ftars, I can pretty well bear. You are in a confufion of wine, and roaring, and hunting, and tobacco, and heaven be praised, you too can pretty well bear it; while our evils are no more, I believe we fhall not much repine. I imagine, however, you will rather chufe to converfe with the living dead, that adorn the walls of your apartments, than with the dead living that deck the middles of them; and prefer a picture of till life to the realities of a noify one, and, as I He lived nine years longer, and died at the great age of eighty-fix. Mr. Gray always thought highly of his pathetic powers, at the fame time that he blamed his ill tate for mixing them for injudicioufly with farce, in order to produce that monftious fpecies of compofition caled Tragi comedy. Mr. Walpole was at this time with hi fatler at Houghton. Mr. Gray writes from his und's houfe in Buckinghamshire. guefs, guefs, will imitate what you prefer, and for an hour or two at noon will stick yourfelf up as formal as if you had been fixed in your frame for thefe hundred years, with a pink or rofe in one hand, and a feal ring on the other. Your name, great I affure you, has been propagated in thefe countries by a convert of your's, one -; he has brought over his whole family to you; they were before pretty good Whigs, but now they are abfolute Walpolians. We have hardly any body in the parish but knows exactly the dimenfions of the hall and faloon at Houghton, and begin to believe that the lanthorn is not fo great a confumer of the fat of the land as difaffected perfons have faid: for your reputation, we keep to ourselves your not hunting nor drink ing hogan, either of which here would be fufficient to lay your honour in the duft. To-morrow fe'nnight I hope to be in town, and not long after at Cambridge. I am, &c. LETTER XXXVIII. Mr. Weft to Mr. Gray. Christ Church, Dec. 2, 1738. R ECEIVING no answer to my laft letter, which I writ above a month ago, I must own I am a little unealy. The flight shadow of you which I had in town, has only ferved to endear you to me the more. The moments I pait with you made a strong impreffion upon me. I fingled you out for a friend, and I would have you know me to be your's, if you deem me worthy.-Alas, Gray, you cannot imagine how miferably my time palles away. My health and nerves and fpirits are, thank my ftars, the very worst, I think, in Oxford. Four-andtwenty hours of pure unalloyed health to gether, are as unknown to me as the 400,000 characters in the Chinese vocabulary. One of my complaints has of late been fo over-civil as to vifit me regularly once a month-jam certus conviva. This is a painful nervous head-ach, which perhaps you have fometimes heard me fpeak of before. Give me leave to fay, I find no phyfic comparable to your letters. If, as it is faid in Ecclefiafticus, "Friendship be "the phyfic of the mind," prefcribe to me, dear Gray, as often and as much as you think proper, I fhall be a moit obedient patient. Non ego Fidis irafcar medicis, offendar amicis. I venture here to write you down a Greek epigram t, which I lately turned into Latin, and hope you will excufe it. Perfpicui puerum ludentem in margine rivi Immerfit vitrea limpidus error aquæ: At gelids ut mater moribundum e flumine traxit Credula, & amplexu funus inane foret ; Paulatim fuer in dilecto pectore, fomno Languidus, æternum lumina compofuit. Adieu! I am going to my tutor's lectures on one Puffendorff, a very jurifprudent author as you fhall read on a fummer's day. Believe me your's, &c. I LETTER XXXIX. From the fame to the fame. Dartmouth-ftreet, Feb. 21, 1737-8. OUGHT to answer you in Latin, but I feel I dare not enter the lift with you— cupidum, pater optime, vires deficiunt.— Seriously, you write in that language with a grace and an Auguftan urbanity that amazes me your Greek too is perfect in its kind. And here let me wonder that a man, longè Græcorum doctiffimus, fhould be at a lofs for the verfe and chapter whence my epigram is taken. I am forry I have not my Aldus with me, that I might fatisfy your curiofity; but he with all my other literary folks are left at Oxford, and therefore you muit ftill reft in fufpenfe. I thank you again and again for your medical prefcription, I know very well that thofe " rifus, fef"tivitates facetie" would contribute greatly to my cure, but then you must be my apothecary as well as physician, and make up the dofe as well as direct it; fend me, therefore, an electuary of thefe drugs, made up fecundum artem," et "eris mihi magnus Apollo," in both his capacities as a god of poets and god of phyficians. With me joy of leaving my college, and leave your's as fast as you can. I fhall be fettled at the Temple • A favourite object of Tory fatire at the time. phan. p. 220. LETTER XL. Mr. Gray to Mr. Walpole. August 1738. MY dear Sir, I fhould fay Mr. Infpector General of the exports and imports; but that appellation would make but an odd figure in conjunction with the three familiar monofyllables above writ ten, for Non benè conveniunt nec in unâ fede morantur LETTER XLI. Mr. Gray to Mr. Weft. Sept. 1738. I AM coming away all fo faft, and leav. ing behind me, without the leaft remorfe, all the beauties of Sturbridge fair. Its white bears may roar, its apes may wring their hands, and crocodiles cry their eyes out, all is one for that; I fhall not once vifit them, nor fo much take my leave. The univerfity has pe lifhed a fevere edict againft fchifmatical congregations, and created half a doze new little procterlings to fee its order executed, being under mighty apprehenfica left Henley ‡ and his gilt tub should come to the fair and feduce their young ones: but their pains are to fmall purpose, fr lo, after all, he is not coming. I am at this instant in the very agon of leaving college, and would not wh the wort of my enemies a worse fituati If you knew the duft, the old boxes, the bedsteads, and tutors that are about ears, you would look upon this letter as: great effort of my refolution and unce cernednefs in the midst of evils. If up my paper with a loose fort of verin of that fcene in Paftor Fido that begia, Care felve beati. Which is, being interpreted, Love does not live at the Cuftom-houfe. However, by what style, title, or denomination foever you chufe to be dignified or diftinguished hereafter, thefe three words will tick by you like a burr, and you can no more get quit of thefe and your chriftian name than St. Anthony could of his pig. My motions at prefent (which you are pleafed to afk after) are much like thofe of a pendulum or (Dr. Longically + fpeaking) ofcillatory. I fwing from chapel or hall home, and from home to chapel or hall. All the ftrange incidents that happen in my journies and returns I fhall be fure to acquaint you with; the moft wonderful is, that it now rains exceedingly; this has refreshed the profpect, as the way for the most part lies between green fields on either hand, terminated with buildings at fome distance, caftles, I prefume, and of great antiquity. The roads are very good, being, as I fufpect, the works of Julius Cafar's I army, for they fill preferve, in many places, the appearance of a pavement in pretty good repair, and, if they were not fo near home, might perhaps be as much admired as the Via Appia; there are at prefent feveral rivulets to be croffed, and which ferve to enliven the view all around. The country is exceedingly fruitful in ravens and fuch black cattle; but, not to tire you with my travels, 1 abruptly conclude your's, &c. Mr. Walpole was just named to that poft, which he exchanged foon after for that of Ufher of the Exchequer. Dr. Long, the mafter of Pembroke Hall, at this time read lectures in experimental philo tophy. LETTER XLII. Mr. Weft to Mr. Gray. Sept. 17, 1738 THANK you again and again for you two last most agreeable letters. The could not have come more a-propos; was without any books to divert and they fupplied the want of ever thing: I made them my claffics in country, they were my Horace and Th bullus-Non ita loquor affentandi canță: probè nofti fi me noris, verum quia fi rs eft fententia. I am but just come to tow and, to fhew you my efteem of your vours, I venture to send you by the p ny-poft, to your father's, what you find on the next page; I hope it reach you foon after your arrival, you boxes out of the waggon, yourself at of the coach, and tutors out of your m mory. Adieu; we fhall fee one another, I hope, to-morrow. Orator Henley, LETTER XLIII. Temple, Sept. 28, 1739. O meæ jucunda comes quietis! Quid canes? quanto Lyra dic furore Méque fub umbra ? LETTER XLIV. From the fame to the fame. Popes, March 28, 1742. WRITE to make you write, for I have not much to tell you. I have recovered no fpirits as yet; but, as I am not displeased with my company, I fit purring by the fire-fide in my arm chair with no fmall fatisfaction. I read too fometimes, and have begun Tacitus, but have not yet read enough to judge of him; only his Pannonian fedition in the first book of his annals, which is juft tle tedious. I have no more to say, as far as I have got, feemed to me a lit but to defire you will write letters of a handsome length, and always anfwer me within a reasonable space of time, which I leave to your difcretion. P. S. The new Dunciad! qu'en pens IF withes could turn to realities, I would fling down my law books, and fup with you to-night. But, alas! here am I doomed to fix, while you are fluttering from city to city, and enjoying all the pleasures which a gay climate can afford. It is out of the power of my I heart to envy your good fortune, yet I cannot help indulging a few natural defires; as for example, to take a walk with you on the banks of the Rhône, and to be climbing up mount Fourviere; Jam mens prætrepidans arvet wagari: Jam lati ftudio pedes vigefcunt. However, fo long as I am not deprived of your correfpondence, fo long fhall I always find fome pleafure in being at home. And, fetting all vain curiofity aide, when the fit is over, and my reafon begins to come to herself, I have feveral other powerful motives which might easily cure me of my reflefs inclinations: among it thefe, my mother's ill state of health is ·fez vous ? not the leaft; which was the reason of our going to Tunbridge, fo that you cannot expect much defcription or amufement from thence. Nor indeed is there much room for either; for all diversions there may be reduced to two articles, gaming and going to church. They were pleafed to publish certain Tunbrigiana this feafon; but fuch ana! I believe there were never fo many vile little verfes put together before. So much for Tunbridge. London affords me as little to fay. What fo huge a town as London? Yes, confider only how I live in that town. I never go into the gay world or high world, and confequently receive nothing from thence to brighten my imagination. The bufy world I leave to the bufy; and am refolved never to talk politics till I can act at the fame time. To tell old ftories, or prate of old books, feems a little mufty; and tojours Chapon bouilli, will not do. However, for want of better fare, take another little mouthful of my poetry. LETTER XLV. Mr. Gray to Mr. Weft. indolence you fay you enjoy there, to TRUST to the country, and that easy reftore you your health and fpirits; and doubt not but, when the fun grows warm you will (like all other things) be the enough to tempt you from your fire-fide, better for his influence. He is my old friend, and an excellent nurfe, I affure you. Had it not been for him, life had often been to me intolerable. Pray do not imagine that Tacitus, of all authors in the world, can be tedious. An an nalist, you know, is by no means master of his fubject; and I think one may venture to fay, that if thofe Pannonian affairs are tedious in his hands, in another's they would have been infupportable. However, fear not, they will foon be over, and he will make ample amends. *He gives Mr. Gray the name of Glaucias frequently in his Latin verfe, as Mr. Gray calls him Favonius. A man, บจ A man, who could join the brilliant of " tum eum, I take the liberty of fending you a long fpeech of Agrippina; much too long, but I could be glad you would retrench it. Aceronia, you may remember, had been giving quiet counfels. I fancy, if it ever be finished, it will be in the nature of Nat. Lee's Bedlam tragedy, which had twenty-five acts and fome odd fcenes. γου LETTER XLVI. Mr. Gray to Mr. Weft. London, April, Thursday. are the first who ever made a mufe of a cough; to me it feems a much more eafy talk to verify in one's fleep, (that indeed you were of old famous for *) than for want of it. Not the wakeful nightingale (when he had a cough) ever fung fo fweetly. I give you thanks for your warble, and with you could fing yourself to reft. These wicked remains of your illness will fure *At Eton School. give way to warm weather and gende exercife; which I hope you will omit as the feafon advances. Whatever low fpirits and indolence, the effect of them, may advife to the contrary, I pray you add five fteps to your walk daily in my fake; by the help of which, ina month's time, I propofe to let you horseback. I talked of the Dunciad as conced ing you had feen it; if you have ne do you choose I should get and fend it to you? I have myfelf, upon your recen mendation, been reading Jofeph Andres. The incidents are ill laid and without vention; but the characters have a gre deal of nature, which always pleafes era in her lowest shapes. Parton Adams » perfectly well; fo is Mrs. Slipflop, ć the ftory of Wilfon; and throughout hỉ fhews himself well read in ftage conche country fquires, inns, and inns of cœn His reflections upon high people and a people, and miffes and matters, are very good. However the exaltedness of for minds (or rather, as I fhrewdly fufpec their infipidity and want of feeling obfervation) may make them inferi to thefe light things (I mean fuch: characterize and paint nature), yet fch they are as weighty and much m ufeful than your grave difcourfes pe the mind, the paffions, and what as Now as the paradifaical pleafures i the Mahometans confift in playing the flute and lying with Houris, be to read eternal new romances of Mt vaux and Crebillon. You are very good in giving your the trouble to read and find faul my long harangues. Your freedom (you call it) has fo little need of 27logies, that I fhould fcarce excufe y treating me any otherwife; which, whe ever compliment it might be to my nity, would be making a very ill one my understanding. As to matter of fly I have this to fay: the language of the 15 is never the language of poetry; exte among the French, whose verse, whe the thought or image does not fupport differs in nothing from profe. Our por on the contrary, has a language pec liar to itself; to which almost every He feems here to glance at Hutchinfon, t difciple of Shaftesbury; of whom he had not a med better opinion than of his matter. thi |