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SELECT LETTERS. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II.

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SELECT LETTERS BETWEEN THE LATE DUCHESS OF SOMERSET, LADY LUXBOROUGH, MISS DOLMAN, MR. WHISTLER, MR. R. DODSLEY, WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ. AND OTHERS; INCLUDING A SKETCH OF THE MANNERS, LAWS, &c. OF THE REPUBLIC OF VENICE, AND SOME POETICAL PIECES; THE WHOLE NOW FIRST PUBLISHED FROM ORIGINAL COPIES,

By Mr. HULL.

IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II.

LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. DODSLEY, PALL-MALL. MDCCLXXVIII.

CONTENTS To VOLUME II.

[v]
  • LETT. I. WILLIAM Shenſtone, Eſq. to Mr. —, accounting for a Delay of Writing; a Deſcribing Lord Foley's Seat, &c. Nov. 20, 1762. Page 1
  • LETT. II. W. Shenſtone, Eſq. to Mr. G—, on familiar Topics. No Date. 8
  • LETT. III. W. Shenſtone, Eſq. to Mr. Jago, on familiar Topics. No Date. 12
  • LETT. IV. The ſame to Mr. Whiſtler, on familiar Topics. No Date. 15
  • LETT. V. The ſame to —. No Date. 20
  • LETT. VI. Mr. Whiſtler to W. Shenſtone, Eſq. Sentiment on Friendſhip. No Date. 22
  • LETT. VII. The ſame to the ſame, on familiar Topics Sept. 8. 25
  • LETT. VIII. The ſame to the ſame, containing an Anecdote of the Princeſs Amelia, &c. Sept. 9. 28
  • [vi]LETT. IX. The ſame to the ſame, on familiar Topics, with an Encomium on Mr. Garrick. April 13. 31
  • LETT. X. The ſame to the ſame, requeſting an Interview at Oxford. No Date. 35
  • LETT. XI. The ſame to the ſame, on familiar Topics. No Date. 37
  • LETT. XII. The ſame to the ſame, complaining of bad Health and Spirits. Aug. 4. 40
  • LETT. XIII. The ſame to the ſame, on familiar Topics. Sept. 8. 42
  • LETT. XIV. The ſame to the ſame; Sentiments on the Leaſowes, old Songs, &c. Nov. 8. 46
  • LETT. XV. The ſame to the ſame, on familiar Topics. Nov. 24. 50
  • LETT. XVI. The ſame to the ſame, on Enjoyments by Reflection, the Pleaſure of reading Authors, in Society, &c. April 13. 53
  • LETT. XVII. The ſame to the ſame, on the refined Senſations of Friendſhip. No Date. 59
  • LETT. XVIII. W. Shenſtone, Eſq. to Miſs Lowe, on familiar Topics. 63
  • LETT. XIX. W. Shenſtone, Eſq. to Mrs. A—. Anecdote of a Hat given for a Sermon, with Sentiments on the ſcanty Incomes of Curacies, &c. No Date. 65
  • LETT. XX. W. Shenſtone, Eſq. to Miſs Carter, on familiar Matters. No Date. 68
  • [vii]LETT. XXI. S. D—, Eſq. to W. Shenſtone, Eſq. inviting his Return to Oxford. Jan. 20. 72
  • LETT. XXII. The ſame to the ſame, on familiar Matters. No Date. 74
  • LETT. XXIII. A. B—, Eſq. to the ſame, on the like. No Date. 77
  • LETT. XXIV. Mr. J. Whiſtler to W. Shenſtone, Eſq. giving an Account of his Brother's Death. May 26. 81
  • LETT. XXV. A. B—, Eſq. to W. Shenſtone, Eſq. on familiar Matters. Jan. 21. 84
  • LETT. XXVI. The ſame to the ſame, with Remarks on the Amuſements in London. Feb. 9. 87
  • LETT. XXVII. The ſame to the ſame, on familiar Matters. No Date. 90
  • LETT. XXVIII. The ſame to the ſame, on the like Matters. 93
  • LETT. XXIX. The ſame to the ſame, on being ſolicited to reviſe and correct ſome Writings. No Date. 97
  • LETT. XXX. Mr. Dodſley to W. Shenſtone, Eſq. inviting him to London, &c. Dec. 30. 100
  • LETT. XXXI. The ſame to the ſame, on the Indiſpoſition of the latter. Feb. 12. 102
  • LETT. XXXII. The ſame to the ſame, on the Publication of his Fables, an Exchange of Portraits, &c. No Date. 103
  • [viii]LETT. XXXIII. The ſame to the ſame, on familiar Matters. June 17. 107
  • LETT. XXXIV. The ſame to the ſame, on the intended Eſſay to his Fables, &c. June 24.
  • LETT. XXXV. The ſame to the ſame, acknowledging the Receipt of his Portrait, &c. No Date. 112
  • LETT. XXXVI. W. Shenſtone, Eſq. to Mr. Hull, at Birmingham, recommending a dramatic Plan for the Story of Roſamond; with ſome ſubjoined Stanzas on the Obeliſk on Landſdowne, near Bath. Aug. 29, 1761. 115
  • LETT. XXXVII. The ſame to the ſame, at Covent-Garden Theatre; relating an Event at the Leaſowes, with ſome Obſervations on our Laws, and a Ballad in the antient Stile. Oct. 18, 1761. 120
  • LETT. XXXVIII. The ſame to the ſame; Remarks on the Writings of Dr. Lancaſter and Mr. Griffith. Nov. 26, 1761. 132
  • LETT. XXXIX. The ſame to the ſame, with Thoughts on Ballad-Writing, and two Ballads. Chriſtmas-Eve, 1761. 135
  • LETT. XL. The ſame to Miſs M—; Reflections on frequent Parties of Pleaſure, two Anecdotes and Cadwal, a legendary Tale, in two Parts. Dec. 8, 1761. 143
  • LETT. XLI. Mr. M. G— to W. Shenſtone, Eſq. encloſing an Extract from
  • [ix]LETT. XLII. Another Letter, and a poetical Fragment. June 21, 1760. 167
  • LETT. XLIII. R. G—, Eſq. to Mr. Hull, with Remarks on the Inſtances of cruelty towards Animals in London Streets. June 16. 183
  • LETT. XLIV. Mrs. — to Mr. Hull, at Covent-Garden Theatre, with an original Poem, by W. Shenſtone, Eſq. Dec. 28, 1774. 190
  • LETT. XLV. Mrs. W— to Mr. Hull, with Remarks on the foregoing Poem, the Diamond, and a tributary Inſcription and Elegy to the Memory of W. Shenſtone, Eſq. Jan. 16, 1775. 214
  • LETT. LVI.* R. G—, Eſq. to the ſame, on the Profeſſion of an Actor. 218
  • LETT. LVII. Miſs N— to Mr. Hull, from Venice, deſcribing her Journey acroſs Mount Cenis, conciſe Account of Venice on her Arrival, and various Events there, viz. a Nun taking the Veil, &c. Oct. 25, 1765. 223
  • LETT. LVIII. The ſame to the ſame; Deſcription of the Diverſions, &c. in Venice. Dec. 25, 1765. 232
  • LETT. LIX. The ſame to the ſame, which commences an Account of the political State of the Venetian Republic. April 3, 1766. 239
  • [x]LETT. LX. The ſame; to the ſame; political State of Venice continued. April 9, 1766. 249
  • LETT. LXI. The ſame to the ſame; political State of Venice continued. April 12, 1766. 256
  • LETT. LXII. The ſame to the ſame; political State of Venice continued. April 15, 1766. 265
  • LETT. LXIII. The ſame to the ſame; political State of Venice continued. April 9, 1766. 276
  • LETT. LXIV. The ſame to the ſame; political State of Venice continued. May 1, 1766. 286
  • LETT. LXV. The ſame to the ſame; political State of Venice continued. May 6, 1766. 296
  • LETT. LXVI. The ſame to the ſame; Deſcription of a Retirement at Palluello, &c. June 20. 306
  • LETT. LXVII. The ſame to the ſame; Deſcription of Bridgnorth, &c. July 5. 309
  • LETT. LXVIII. The ſame to the ſame; Deſcription of Dunkeld. July 22. 314
  • LETT. LXIX. The ſame to the ſame; Sketch of Atholl Houſe; Anecdote of the Laird of Foignes, &c. Sept. 10, 1764. 319
  • [xi]LETT. LXX. The ſame to the ſame, deſcribing her Arrival at Kimbolton Caſtle, with a Sketch of the Place. Nov. 22. 324
  • LETT. LXXI. The ſame to the ſame; ſhort Deſcription of Paris and the Environs. July 31. 329
  • LETT. LXXII. The ſame to the ſame. Oct. 13, 1771. 336
  • LETT. LXXIII. The ſame to the ſame; Sketch of Switzerland, and the Carnival Time at Venice. Jan. 26, 1772. 341

[1]SELECT LETTERS.

LETTER I. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to —.

My deareſt Friend,

IT is a very ſurpriſing and a cruel Thing, that you will not ſuppoſe me to have been out of Order, after ſuch a Neglect of writing, as can hardly be excuſed on any other Score. I cannot, indeed, lay Claim to what the Doctors call an acute Diſeaſe: but Dizzineſs of Head, and Depreſſion of Spirits are at [2] beſt no trivial Maladies, and great Diſcouragements to writing. There is a lethargic State of Mind that deſerves your Pity, not your Anger; though it may require the Hellebore of ſharp Reproof. Why then did you not apply this pungent Remedy, before the Diſeaſe was gone ſo far? But ſeriouſly, I paſs too much of that Sort of Time, wherein I am neither well nor ill; and being unable to expreſs myſelf at large, am averſe to do ſo by Halves. From the ſtrange Laconiciſm of your Letter, I am really in Doubt, whether you are not angry at me; and yet had rather this were owing to Anger that may ſubſide, than to any perſevering Fondneſs you may have for ſuch unuſual Brevity. Should the latter become habitual, I ſhall ſee the Letters of a Genius dwindle to ‘"per firſt will adviſe the Needful."’ God forbid ſuch a Transformation!

Your former Letter, to my great Confuſion, was dated Sept. 18. Let me ſpeak firſt to ſome few Parts of it—The Lampreys arrived ſafe, and were as good as I ever taſted; but every Time I taſted them, I wanted you; and you are miſtaken, [3] if you imagine, I can half reliſh ſuch Cates alone: however, I return you Thanks.

You gave me no Account how far the Bath Waters, &c. were judged expedient for you. A charitable Action called you up to Town; and you, in the Benevolence of your Heart, preſume, that this accounts for the Neglect of every Advantage that concerned yourſelf. Pray let me know whether the Bath was proper for you at the ſame Time inform me, whether you were able to ſerve Mrs. H—. I ſhall be ſorry for you, as well as her, if you ſhould miſs the Gratification you would derive from the Succeſs of ſuch an Endeavour.

Were I rich, I would erect a Temple to Simplicity and Grace; or, as the latter Word would be equivocal, to Simplicity and Elegance. I am glad to hear that Mr. W— has undertaken to deify the former; as he will produce better Grounds for ſuch a Conſecration than was ever done by Pagans, or by Papiſts, on any ſuch Occaſion. By the Way, I take that Goddeſs to be a remarkable Friend to Eaſe and Indolence. There is another well-deſerving Perſonage, [4] Delicacy, whoſe Cauſe has been ſtrangely deſerted, by either Mr. MELMOTH, or Dr. LANCASTER.

Will it make better for me, or worſe, to ſay, I've not yet written to Mr. GRAVES? But I will poſitively write, within this Week, if it coſt me a Doſe of Salts to clear my Brain. As to what he ſays about my printing immediately, he may be right, and I am ſure he is friendly: but more of this in a little Time.

Since the Receipt of your laſt Letter, Mr. PERCY and his Wife came and ſpent a good Part of the Week here; and he, alſo, would needs write a Deſcription of the Leaſowes. During the latter Part of his Circuit, my Friend JAGO and I accompanied him; and what was produced on that Occaſion, you will go near to know in a little Time. Mean while I am more and more convinced, that no Deſcription of this Place can make any Figure in Print, unleſs ſome Strictures upon Gardening, and other Embelliſhments be ſuperadded.

[5]Mr. JAGO has been with me twice, having written a Poem in blank Verſe, which he leaves here for my Reviſal. 'Tis a deſcriptive Poem, called Edge-Hill, and admits an Account of the Battle fought there, together with many legendary Tales and Epiſodes.

About a Week ago, I paid a Viſit of two or three Days, which I had long promiſed, to Lord FOLEY. His Table, for a Conſtancy, is the moſt magnificent of any I ever ſaw: eighteen or twenty elegant Diſhes; a continual Succeſſion of Company; his Behaviour, perfectly hoſpitable, and his Converſation really entertaining. I moſt readily own myſelf to have been under a Miſtake, with Regard to his companionable Character. My Reception was as agreeable as it could poſſibly be. As to the reſt, he has a moſt admirable Houſe and Furniture; but without any Room or Utenſil that would ſtand the Teſt of modern Criticiſm. The Views around him, wild and great; and the Park capable of being rendered fine; twice as ſtriking as it is at preſent, if he would fell ſome Oaks, under the Value of a Crown, and ſome Hawthorns, under [6] the Value of a Half-penny: but 'tis poſſible, at his Time of Life, &c. nothing of this Sort will be undertaken. The two Things at preſent remarkable are, his Lodge and his Chapel. The Portico of the former, (deſigned by FLEETCROFT) affords three different and ſtriking Proſpects. The Chapel is ſo very ſuperb and elegant, that Mrs. GATAKER has nothing to do but ſend you and me thither, to ſay our Prayers in it. In reality, it is perfect Luxury; as I truly thought it, laſt Sunday Se'en-night; his Pew is a Room with an handſome Fire-place; the Ceiling carved, painted in Compartments, and the Remainder enriched with gilt Stucco-Ornaments; the Walls enriched in the ſame Manner; the beſt painted Windows I ever ſaw; the Monument to his Father, Mother, and Brothers, coſt, he ſaid, 2000l. the middle Aiſle rendered comfortable by Iron Stoves, in the Shape of Urns; the Organ perfectly neat, and good, in Proportion to its Size: and to this Chapel you are led through a Gallery of Paintings ſeventy Feet long—And what would you more? You'll ſay, a good Sermon—I really think his Parſon is able to preach one.

[7]And now I come, laſtly, to ſpeak of your Letter I received on Monday. What an uncommon Man you are! to take ſo much Thought for thoſe, who never took any for themſelves!—I have enquired after Mr. WEDDERBURNE, and it ſeems he is a very clever and a very riſing Lawyer; to whom I am the more obliged for mentioning me, as I fear I have not the Honour of being the leaſt known to him.

Pray write to me as ſoon as poſſible, and I will make you Amends (if Writing will make Amends) for the ſcandalous Omiſſions of which I have been guilty. I have ſomewhat to tell you of Lord L—'s uſual great Kindneſs, when the Lords D— and W— were laſt at Hagley; but I have not Time, and muſt conclude, my deareſt, worthieſt Friend!

your ever obliged W. SHENSTONE.

LETTER II. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to Mr. G—.

[8]
Dear Sir,

I DID indeed give you up for loſt, as a Correſpondent, and find by your Letter that I am to expect very few future ones. I will endeavour all I can, to avoid any Suſpicion of your Indifference for my own Satisfaction; but I don't know for certain, that I ſhall be able, unleſs you aſſiſt my Endeavours, like my good Genius, by a Courſe of ſuitable Epiſtles, at certain Diſtances. I myſelf correſpond but very little now, ſo you will meet with the more Indulgence. I don't find by your Letter that you have much more Philoſophy than me. I can't tell, indeed, what the Situation of your Houſe is; I own, mine gives me Offence on no other Conſideration, than that it does not receive a ſufficient Number of polite Friends, or that it is not fit to receive them, were they ſo diſpoſed; I would [9] elſe cultivate an Acquaintance with about three or four in my Neighbourhood, that are of a Degree of Elegance and Station ſuperior to the common run. But I make it a certain Rule, ‘"Arcere profanum Vulgus".*—Perſons who will deſpiſe you for the Want of a good Set of Chairs, or an uncouth Fire-Shovel, at the ſame Time that they can't taſte any Excellence in a Mind that overlooks thoſe Things; or (to make a Conceit of this Sentiment) with whom 'tis in vain that your Mind is furniſhed, if the Walls are naked; indeed, one loſes much of one's Acquiſitions in Virtue, by an Hour's Converſe with ſuch as judge of Merit by Money, &c. yet I am now and then impelled by the ſocial Paſſion to ſit half an Hour in my Kitchen.

I was all along an Admirer of Sir THOMAS HEAD's Humour and Wit, and I beg you will repreſent me in that Light, if Occaſion happens. 'Tis not impoſſible that I may penetrate this Winter as far as your Neighbourhood, connecting a Set of Viſits which I have in my Eye. Tell Mr. WHISTLER, when you [10] ſee him, that if he muſt have ſome Diſtemper, I cannot but be pleaſed that it is one which is the Fore-runner of Longevity—Don't tell him ſo neither, for the Compliment is trite. From the Birmingham Gazette, ‘"We hear that on Thurſday laſt was married, at Hales Owen, in Shropſhire, Mr. J—, an eminent Gunſmith of this Town, to a Siſter of the Right Hon. F— Lord D—."’ I was yeſterday at the Grange, where his old Father, with a Number of People, were celebrating the Nuptials of his Son; when in the Midſt of his Feaſtings, high Jollity, and grand Alliance, the old Fellow bethought him of a Piece of Timber in the Neighbourhood, that was convertible into good Gun-Stocks, and had ſome of it ſent for into the Room, by Way of Specimen. ‘"Animae nil magnae Laudis egentes!"*

Pray is your Siſter at Smelkwick? for I have not heard. You ſaid you would give me your Picture, which I long earneſtly for; could not you contrive to have it ſent me directly? I am quite in your Debt, with Regard to downright Goods and Moveables, and what is the proper [11] Subject of an Inventory; I will, however, endeavour to be more upon a Par with you, with Regard to Preſents, though I never can, with Regard to the Pleaſures I have received from your Converſation.

I make People wonder at my Exploits in pulling down Walls, Hovels, Cow-Houſes, &c. and my Place is not the ſame. I am, that is with Regard to you,

a faithful Friend, and humble Servant, W. SHENSTONE.

Mr. WHISTLER, and you, and I, and Sir T. HEAD, (whom I ſhould name firſt, ſpeaking after the Manner of Men) have juſt Variety enough, and not too much, in our Characters, to make an Interview, whenever it happens, entertaining—I mean, though we were not old Friends and Acquaintance.

LETTER III. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to Mr. JAGO.

[12]
Dear Mr. JAGO,

THOUGH I have not yet troubled you with a Letter, I have not been void of all Enquiry, or Information concerning your Situation and Mr. HARDY's Health; indeed, it is now many Weeks ſince I collected ſome Particulars from your Brother, and I am now impatient for ſome further Intelligence. As to the Particulars of our friendly Reception at Wroxhall, Mr. JOHN JAGO has very probably acquainted you; he would, however, perſuade me to give you a diſtinct Account; being aſſured, he ſays, it muſt be a good Subject for Drollery. I don't know how far this would be proper: but I think, when I write again to my Friend W—, to give him a Sketch of his own Character, juſt as it appeared during the Time of our Viſit. I do not mean to give Offence, ſo I ſhall intermix many [13] good Parts of his Character, together with his Oddities. I believe the whole will take up a Sheet of Paper, for I have already conſidered it. He has Good-Senſe, and Good-Nature at the Bottom; pity he ſhould diſguiſe the former by one continued Air of Buffoonry, and the latter by a total Neglect of common Decorum.

Since I came home, I have done little elſe but plant Buſhes, Hazel, Hawthorn, Crab-Tree, Elder, &c. together with ſome few flowering Shrubs that I have had given me. I think nothing remarkable has occurred; only one miſerable tempeſtuous Day, I had the Earl of STAMFORD called to ſee my Walks, together with Mr. DOVEY, of Birmingham, and two other Gentlemen. My Lord promiſed to come again in Summer, and invited me to Enville. By the Way, he is now building a Gothic Green-Houſe, by Mr. M—'s Direction; and by all Accounts, the Place is worth your ſeeing, when you come into this Country; 'tis but about ſix Miles diſtant from hence. Pray do not you embroil me with Mr. M—, in Regard to the Obſervations I made in his [14] Walks. Remember there were not a few Things with which I was greatly delighted; and if there were a few that I leſs appeared to admire, it was owing to a Conſciouſneſs, that I was amongſt Friends only, and that I thought it fooliſh to regulate my Expreſſions by the ſame Rules of Complaiſance, which I ought to obſerve in different Places. I ſay, ought, for he has been exceeding favourable to me, in his Repreſentations of the Leaſowes. I hope to ſee Mr. FANCOURT with you here this Spring, and why not your Brother? He can ſpend half a Week now and then at Wroxall. The Duke of S— was treated with Cruelty by his Father till he was ſixty-five, and afterwards ſcarce ſurvived him, to enjoy one Year's Profit of the Eſtate. Such is the Tenure by which we hold our earthly Tenements!

LETTER IV. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to Mr. WHISTLER.

[15]
Dear Mr. WHISTLER,

THIS is the firſt Evening I have had to myſelf ſince I left Cheltenham; and as one wants ſome very favourite Subject to engroſs one's Thoughts a little, after a long Diſſipation, I could think of nothing more effectual than a Letter to one who has ſo large a Share in them; beſide, they have given me your Letter from Bradfield, and I am in Pain till I have acknowledged ſo affectionate and polite a Preſent. People, whoſe very Foibles are ſo many Elegancies, can ſcarce write any Thing more agreeable than a plain, unaffected Account of them. I remember, I uſed to think this a Kind of Diſtinction between Mr. GRAVES and you; that the one had the Knack of making his Virtues unenvied, and the other of rendering (what I perhaps unjuſtly termed) his Weakneſſes enviable. I am almoſt [16] afraid of inſerting this, leſt it ſhould ſeem to injure the ſuperlative Eſteem I have of you: but I muſt add, that I conſider a Mixture of Weakneſſes, and an ingenuous Confeſſion of them, as the moſt engaging and ſociable Part of any Character; if I did not, I could not allot them you, whoſe Manner is ſo diſtinguiſhedly amiable.

Since I left Cheltenham, I have been at Mr. B—'s, in Biſhop's-Caſtle. I rode one Morning with him about three Miles, that I might ſay, I had been in Wales, and ſeen Brecon, Caderidis, and Plinlimmon, with an extenſive Chain of other Mountains. I called at a ſmall Alehouſe, where the People lived all the Winter without any Glaſs in their Windows. I was wondering how they could live ſo, in a more cold Country than you have, perhaps, experienced. The Wife ſaid, ‘"True it was, ſhe could like Glaſs very well."’ ‘"Yes,"’ ſays the Huſband, ‘"Glaſs is very genteel, that it is."’ ‘"Nay,’ ſays the Wife, ‘"not for the Gentleelneſs neither, though it is very genteel, that's the Truth on't."’ This Circumſtance ſtruck me a good deal, that they ſhould diſcover the genteelneſs [17] of Glazing, and never once think of its Expediency. Mr. B— is a Man you would like upon Acquaintance, though, as I remember, you had ſome Objection to the Superfluity of his Wit. We ſhall, in all Probability, have frequent Interviews with him at Bath, London, &c. He would fain have ſeduced me to have travelled into Portugal, &c. with himſelf, and one Mr. MOORE, his Neighbour; an agreeable, modeſt Man, and late Member for Biſhop's-Caſtle. I declined it for two Reaſons; firſt, on Account of the Expence, and ſecondly, that I could not think of ſpending two Years in this Part of my Life abroad; dead to one's own Country, and procuring, at beſt, very periſhable, and uſeleſs Friendſhips in another. If I could have ſtaid, I was to have gone with him to a Welſh Seſſions, fraught with Iraſcibility. He is a Juſtice of Peace there.

As to good Acquaintance, though I much deſire it, I have as literally a Genius for avoiding, as any one ever had for procuring it. I cannot approach within fifty Yards of Servility for fear of it.

[18]I want ſadly to talk to you about a thouſand Things. I have ſome Notion of ſpending a Week at Mr. D—'s. Act ſublimely, and give me the Meeting then, notwithſtanding.

Though I was enamoured with the Politeneſs of Mr. W—'s Converſation, I ſhould not, perhaps, have been very forward to expreſs my Sentiments, if you had not intimated, that he made favourable mention of me. I begin to grow a little pleaſed with Prudence, and I think it a Debt one owes her, to reſerve one's Encomiums till one knows any one's mutual Sentiments; for certainly, he that happens to commend an Enemy, happens to condemn himſelf. I beg my Compliments.

I believe poor J. D— is alive—Farther I c [...]nnot learn.

I did not think it poſſible, I could have [...] ſo much engaged by love as I have been [...] [...]ate.—Poor Miſs C—!

[19]It muſt neceſſarily be an Honour to a Girl, to have pleaſed a Man of Senſe, (I know not but I am vain in ſuppoſing myſelf of that Number) let his Station be how low ſoever. Now it muſt be a Diſgraee to captivate a Fool, however high it be; the former is the ſtrongeſt Evidence of Merit, the latter of the Want of it.

Now I talk of Vanity, I beſeech you never check yourſelf in your Letters—I don't purpoſe it; and I think it makes as pretty a Figure in the Letters of a Man of Taſte, as it does in the Embroidery of a Beau. I am as much yours, as human Nature will admit of.

Adieu!
W. SHENSTONE.

LETTER V. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to —.

[20]
Dear Sir,

WHEN I promiſed you ſome Poetry for Mr. S—, I am afraid that, through my Deſire of recommending myſelf to his Family, my Tongue out-run my Wit. If I laid any Sort of Streſs upon what I was to ſend, I am very ſure it did ſo; and when you have read the Trifles encloſed, you will be of the ſame Opinion.

It is probable, however, that I had an Eye to a larger Ode of mine, upon the Subject of rural Elegance, which I have not now Time either to correct or to tranſcribe; but which I will not fail to communicate to them upon ſome future Occaſion.

Or if my Promiſe regarded a Tranſlation of the Mottos here, I ſhall have the beſt Opportunity of performing it, when I take the Freedoms [21] you have allowed me, with your polite Deſcription of my Farm.

Am I wrong in detaining that Paper?—For poſitively, theſe laſt few Days I have found myſelf a good deal feveriſh, and my Head has been ſo much confuſed, that I was almoſt tempted to omit this Meſſage. In this Caſe, I think your Good-nature would have acquitted me of Diſreſpect: but I could not ſuffer you to leave the Country with ſo bad an Opinion of my punctuality.

It remains, that I preſent my beſt Reſpects to Dr. TURTON and his Lady, and that I wiſh you an agreeable Journey to Oxford. I purpoſe, in a few Weeks, that you ſhall be enabled to ſay ſomething more particular, in Regard to M—'s Poetry; in the mean Time, I deſire that he would accept my Compliments, and my Thanks for the Pleaſure his Verſes have afforded me. Above all Things, aſſure Mr. ARNOLD of my moſt unfeigned Eſteem; and if he diſcovers any Partiality for my Place or me, encourage it, that it may induce him, on a proper Occaſion, to favour me once more [22] with his Company. You ſee, I am availing myſelf of your Intereſt, to make all your Friends my own; and to attone for this Piece of Selfiſhneſs, it ſhall not be my Fault, if every Friend I have be not yours, at leaſt, with ſome Share of that Regard with which I am,

dear Sir,
your moſt faithful, humble Servant, W. SHENSTONE.

LETTER VI. Mr. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

Dear Sir,

I Received your agreeable Letter; read all the fine Things your (I fear prejudiced) Good-nature made you ſay; at firſt diſtruſted them: but when I reflected on the Perſon who ſaid them, I found a ſtrong Inclination riſe in me to believe them; but how to be convinced I was ſtill at a Loſs; for I know it is in your Power, either to make Flattery paſs for Sincerity, or Sincerity (ſo juſtly dreaded from [23] the Unſkilful) pleaſing. But be it as it will, I ſhall be a Gainer by it; for if 'tis Flattery, it will give me a fair Reputation, though undeſerved, with all who hear it; but if 'tis true, it will aſſure me, I deſerve one from all who can like you beſtow one.

You enquired after Mr. D—. He, and his Lady, and Miſs B—s, have drank Tea with me twice within this Fortnight. We went to Chriſt-Church Prayers together, from thence, arrayed in Gold and Silver, we ruſhed into St. John's-Chapel, where we ſtood, knelt and ſate, (I won't ſay prayed) the whole Service-Time; for you know it is uſual there for Strangers to ſit in the Choir, which we did, to the great Advantage both of the Fan and the Snuff-Box, which were neither of them long unemployed, during Divine Service. You know they are great Helps to Devotion: Snuff certainly compoſes, and a Fan may waft a Soul to Heaven before it is aware.

Mrs. L— ſtill perſeveres. She gave it out before ſhe had ſeen her, that Miſs B— was like a Cat, which when ſhe found Miſs B— [24] had heard, ſhe wrote a Letter to excuſe herſelf, and concluded moſt emphatically with theſe Words, ‘"No, Madam, I am not quite ſo unbred; it was not I, but Common-Fame, ſaid you were like a Cat."’ I really think here, that Mrs. L— topt Mrs. L—'s Part. Mr. G— is ſtill a Prude; I ſee him ſometimes, but ſhould be glad to ſee him oftener. I know no one Circumſtance, but Breach of Sincerity, that can ever be a Reaſon with me to ſlight my Friends. If a Friend of mine had broke all Laws, both human and divine, yet had conſpicuouſly preſerved his Integrity to me, I ſhould only think myſelf the more obliged to him, and though I pitied him, would never forſake him firſt; I ſhould think he had a higher Notion of Friendſhip, and that that was the only Tie which he dared not violate, for which Reaſon I would not dare to be a greater Villain than he. I don't know how this Thought came into my Head, but you ſee I was willing to ſpin it to its full Length; if I have gone too far, you muſt impute it to that Rapture of Friendſhip with which I am yours eternally,

A. WHISTLER.

Do write!

LETTER VII. Mr. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[25]
Dear Sir,

I HAVE waited thus long upon a dilatory Lawyer, called, I ſuppoſe, in Hebrew, Belzebub; at leaſt, I am confident, Lawyer is but a ſynonimous Term for the Devil. I have ſtayed, and muſt ſtay, to ſign ſome Parchments, which cannot be done without me; and his Delay has cauſed mine, in not anſwering your kind Letter before. I muſt likewiſe go to Wincheſter on the ſame Buſineſs, ſo that, to put you out of a diſagreeable Expectation, I pluck up Reſolution to tell you, I am afraid I cannot wait upon you this Summer; at once to reſiſt your Kindneſs, and my own Inclination, in my Opinion, is a great Act of Reſolution, at leaſt would be ſo, if I had any Degree of Choice left me: but as it is, I think the enduring my Diſappointment a great Trial of my Patience. Mr. GRAVES will witneſs the [26] Truth of my Misfortune, who has been at Whitchurch lately, and who intended to ſee you ſoon. I ſuppoſe he told you his Errand into theſe Parts, a providential Thing for me, and one of the happieſt Revolutions in my Life, if it ſucceed, as I hope it will. My Spirits are quite grown ruſty, with long and fruitleſs Expectations of Happineſs, and no Tools are fine enough to poliſh, or, as the Artiſts ſay, to touch them, but yourſelf or Mr. GRAVES. I knew nothing of his coming till I ſaw him, for which Reaſon I looked upon him as miraculous Manna or Food from Heaven.

I lament very much that you don't deſign to be in London next Winter: I ſhall be there for about ſix Weeks, towards the Middle of it. The Winter we met there, I thought a pleaſant one, and enough to encourage a ſecond Meeting in the ſame Place—The only Place for Whims, practicable there without Reproach, or falling from that Dignity which 'tis neceſſary for a Gentleman to maintain in the Country. I ſhould like mightily to indulge my Fancy in ſome innocent, private, romantic [27] Expeditions; I know not what—But all Things as I ſaid, are poſſible there.

Mr. GRAVES tells me you are a great Oeconomiſt. If ſo, I hope London will be the richer for it, and you the finer, as Luxury is the Daughter of Induſtry, and Induſtry again the Mother of Luxury, each reigning by Turns, and ſo the World goes on. If you ſhould go to London this Winter, you'll call at Whitchurch by the Way, and we'll go together, which will prevent any Diſappointment. You will always be received here, with Acknowledgment of the Favour you do us; ſo ſay we all, and preſent our Compliments in one Garland to you, which I beg you will accept, though it is but coarſely put together, and you will oblige

Your ſincere Friend, and moſt obedient Servant, A. WHISTLER.

LETTER VIII. Mr. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[28]
Dear Sir,

I Received your kind Letter, and, in Spite of all you have ſaid, I muſt ſtill think that the Obligation is entirely on my Side, and you have only, in my Opinion, laid a greater Streſs upon it by ſo generouſly diſclaiming it. I am reſolved to be pleaſed with every Thing you ſay or do, and if I were not, you are reſolved I ſhall. I am very glad you intend me a Viſit; but am likewiſe very ſorry, I muſt beg you to defer it for ſome Time; our Family talk of going to Briſtol very ſoon, and as I have no where elſe to go, muſt go with them. If it was in my Power to defer the Journey, I would gladly do it, to wait on Mr. SHENSTONE, at Whitchurch; or if I could command the Houſe in their Abſence, their Abſence and his Preſence would be to me a double Happineſs. But as it is, I muſt, at preſent, [29] be without a Pleaſure, which I hope will not always thus fly from me; I hope the lat-End of this Summer, and Mr. SHENSTONE, will be both more favourable to me, and if ſo, I ſhall reckon that the Spring of the Year is yet to come; I, who place the Seaſons entirely in my own Fancy.

I forgot to tell you in my laſt, that the Princeſs AMELIA did us the Honour of a Viſit at Whitchurch, though we were obliged to the Stag for it, who ſeemed to fly from the Honour ſhe deſigned him, and had not Ambition enough (as LEE ſays) to meet the Blow half Way, or be pleaſed with Death, though in the Royal Preſence. It was a terrible Day, and the Princeſs was wet through; ſhe had rode thirty Miles when I ſaw her, and ſhe rode thirty Miles after that, which was ſix o'Clock at Night, in her wet Cloaths, and appeared at the Drawing-Room at St. James's, the next Day, which was a Birth-Day.

The Princeſs (with Submiſſion be it ſpoke) gave me no Satisfaction, not through any Deficiency in her Demeanour—but from the diſſatisfied [30] State of Mind. I could be contented with nothing leſs than you; and I hope you will be ſo good, as not to let this Diſappointment, which I aſſure you is a great Diſappointment to me, be any Objection to my having the Pleaſure of your Company another Time. With my Service, which waits on you, I am yours, as much as, I hope, you would have me, viz.

Your ſincere Friend and humble Servant, A. WHISTLER.

Excuſe me, if I deſire to be remembered to good Mrs. ARNOLD, whom I look upon to be an Example of the ſimple Force of moral Beauty.

LETTER IX. Mr. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[31]
Dear Sir,

I HAVE not received your Letter above a Week ago, being but lately come to Town, which is the true Reaſon why I have not anſwered it. Few Reaſons, and none but good ones ſhall ever prevent me from preſenting my Heart to you: but my Journey hither has been prevented, partly by ill Health, and partly by little, ill-natured, impertinent Accidents—This Suſpenſe had had an equal Effect on my writing to you. I here end my moſt ſincere Apology.

Now for News—I am in London; for which Reaſon, I ſuppoſe I muſt not be excuſed; tho' I hate it, remember very little, and am moſt likely to blunder in the Recital of that little. The Houſe of Commons have addreſſed the King to try MATTHEWS and LESTOCK, and ſix Captains, by a Court-Martial, and it is [32] thought, ſome of them will be condemned.—Poor GARRICK has been dangerouſly ill of a Fever this Week: but now, to my great Satisfaction, there are Hopes of his Recovery; nay, it is noticed in the Daily Advertiſer, that he will perform a Part next Wedneſday Night.

I have been to wait on Lord D—. He was very civil, and would fain have kept me till he had opened his Heart with a Bottle of Wine; at leaſt, I imagined his forwarding the Bottle was with that Deſign; but I was engaged. I am to call upon him to go to Ranelagh—a Lord would be a pretty Noſegay in one's Hand, if he had the leaſt Variety of Colours; nay, if he reſembled any one Flower of a ſingle Colour, except the Fuſtus. Mr. F— I ſee ſometimes, but he is not very attractive. I always did envy you the Power of Laughing at a Fool by yourſelf: but you are a World within yourſelf. Mr. P—K, I ſpent an Evening with lately very agreeably: but he lives ſo far off, at the Court-End of the Town, as ſeparates us very much. Mr. P—N I often ſee, and find him a very uſeful Perſon. But if you were here, both agreeable and uſeful would [33] vaniſh, and a far ſuperior Enjoyment take Place. Mr. GRAVES promiſed to be in London for a Week, but his little Politics are, you know, very uncertain. I have ſtruck a bold Stroke ſince I have been in Town; I mean a laced Coat, for really Waiſtcoats coſt as much, and are no Mark of Diſtinction after all. Sir T. HEAD comes to Town this Week; but I believe, I ſhall not ſtay above a Week longer, ſo would have you direct to me at Whitchurch. I deſign to go to Court one Night. I muſt, as you ſee, write ſhort, my Paper drawing to an End. It is with Pleaſure I hear, that old People confeſs a Play is now worth ſeeing, and that GARRICK excels BETTERTON, &c. In the Diverſity of his Genius, he muſt far exceed him; when we ſee him alternately in a Richard and Scrub, in a Lear, and Abel Drugger, he is truly aſtoniſhing. This Excellence of our dramatic Repreſentations is another Reaſon to wiſh you here. CAMPIONI is a charming new Dancer. The Meſſiah was performed laſt Night, but I could not go.—But I muſt write no more Tattle. I have juſt been with Mr. SHUGBOROUGH, and gave him your Orders about the Pamphlets, and have picked out ſome myſelf, [34] viz. the Odes, the new Play, and the Poem on Sickneſs.

I wiſh there had been any better Prints to have encloſed in this Letter; I ſhould have been glad to have ſent them. The Pamphlets I have ordered to be ſent immediately, directed to be left at Mr. AUDLEY's, in Birmingham. The Regret I always feel for your Abſence will ever inſtruct me how to value you, that is beyond what the elaborate Concluſion of a Letter can expreſs; therefore I will not endeavour to ſay how much, but in an unlimited Manner be fond to remain

yours, A. WHISTLER.

I have no gilt Paper at Hand, which is a Fault; pray excuſe it. Mr. PEMBERTON is with me, and begs his Service.

LETTER X. Mr. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[35]
Dear Mr. SHENSTONE,

I Generally write to you, becauſe I want to hear from you; but having lately wrote to you, I now write becauſe I want to ſee you. In ſhort the Caſe is this: I ſhall be at Oxford in about three Weeks Time, or ſooner, and I have Reaſon to think it will be the laſt Time I ſhall be there, I mean in my Gown. Now as I am willing ſtill to retain an agreeable Image of the Place where I have ſpent ſo many happy Hours, I make this Requeſt, that you would ſtamp the laſt Impreſſion upon my Mind. I beg you would meet me there, and give me the Confirmation of your Friendſhip, which I ſhall eſteem a greater Honour than all the Degrees the formal Convocation can beſtow; and I think of you, as JUBA does of CATO, and declare, I would rather have your Praiſe, than Worlds for my Admirers. [36] I have forgot the Meaſure, but this is directly my Sentiment.

I lately wrote you a long Letter, as you were ſo kind to deſire; and in ſo very lazy unintellectual a Manner, that I am ſure half the Mortals, who only underſtand with their Eyes and by the Grammar, could never have comprehended: but I would converſe with you Soul to Soul, have a Hint underſtood by you, and not be obliged to a tedious Period to communicate a Thought to you; I would have my Soul ſtand naked before you, and ſhiver at the leaſt Breath of Kindneſs your moſt diſtant Meaning ſhall breathe on it—

Oh, happy State, when Souls each other draw, &c.
Mr. POPE.

This I am ſure your quick Apprehenſion is capable of; and by a Deſire of the ſtricteſt Union with you, I am fond to believe as well of myſelf. You ſee I am propoſing every Scheme which may unite you more cloſely to me, therefore I beg you will not refuſe me the Requeſt I made at the Beginning of my [37] Letter. I will ſay no more now, but when I am with you, deſign to talk away as you ſhall inſpire. In the mean Time, I boaſt, that it is the moſt ſagacious Inſtinct which puſhes me on to ſubſcribe myſelf

your moſt affectionate Friend and humble Servant, A. WHISTLER.

LETTER XI. Mr. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

Dear Sir,

AS Hope is the chief Spring of all our Actions, and as Pleaſure is the ſole Object of that Hope, you muſt not wonder if the Stile of this Letter appears more languid than uſual. How quickly is the Tranſition often made from Hope to Deſpair! But a little [38] While, and I thought I already ſaw you; and now I am preſently fallen into the Deſperation of I know not when. The Small-Pox, which generally frightens away every Thing that's agreeable, has made it impoſſible for me to ſee you as yet—The laſt Sentence ſeems a Compliment to myſelf; but as I am too lazy to alter it, I beg you would think with me, and interpret every Thing I ſay in your own Favour. But thus the Devil will have it; the Small-Pox is all over Oxford, in every Part of the Town, in moſt of the Colleges to my Knowledge, and is lately broke out in Pembroke. If it had not been for this laſt Article, I could gladly have confined myſelf within the Compaſs of thoſe Walls with you; but as it is, I am forced, like good Men, to ſubmit for a While to human Miſeries, and comfort myſelf with the Thought of my Heaven, though at a Diſtance; like them too, I have this Satisfaction, that in the mean Time neither the baſe Moth, or Ruſt of the World, can corrupt that Part of you in which my Pleaſure is ſituated.

[39]I have a very bad Piece of News to tell you; Mr. G— lies dangerouſly ill at London of a Fever: I am informed his Life is deſpaired of—I am now in the utmoſt Concern at it. This Letter is a mere Medley: diſagreeable to myſelf, I don't propoſe it to be agreeable to you. I only wrote it, to tell you what you muſt know, and if you can underſtand it, it is very well. I am not only in the loweſt Spirits, but they are alſo very much confuſed. I will not now moralize; but this I am ſure, we ſhall both dearly miſs Mr. G—. When I hear more, you ſhall know more. It is now one o'Clock in the Morning, and, as I told you, I wrote this out of Neceſſity. I cannot be in Oxford, though I long to ſee you. If poor Mr. G— ſhould die, pray be ſtill more kind to me. I am ſure, I ſhall then find a Vacancy in my Breaſt, which you alone can fill up to my Satisfaction.

Adieu, dear Mr. SHENSTONE!
A. WHISTLER.

Pray write.

[40]I received a Letter from you juſt after I ſent you my laſt, and my Thoughs are at preſent too confuſed to anſwer your laſt particularly, nor, indeed, will my Time allow it. Only I heartily thank you for it.

LETTER XII. Mr WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

Dear Sir,

YOUR laſt kind Letter has for a long Time upbraided me with Negligence, Ingratitude and Stupidity. To the laſt Part of the Accuſation, I plead guilty; for I think I never found myſelf more ſtupid than I have been for this Month paſt, and what I write now, proceeds, not from any Flow of Fancy, but merely from Reſpect and Eſteem. I have [41] been very much taken up of late, by our Family being at Home: but that Excuſe I lay no Streſs upon; for I ſhall never let any, either Buſineſs or Pleaſure hurry you from my Thoughts. Ill Health can be my only juſt Apology; and though I cannot ſay I have been ſick, I can aſſure you, I have not been well for ſome Time paſt. Put my Condition in the beſt Light, I am very much in the Vapours, and ſo much, as that you or Mr. GRAVES alone can cure me: a Letter from you will go a great deal towards it; though I long for one, I can hardly go on with this Letter, which is the Means to procure it; like one ſinking into a fainting Fit, who can't collect Strength of Mind or Body, to reach ſo much as the Hartſhorn to his Noſe, which ſtands at his Elbow. I ſhall be at Oxford in a ſhort Time, and ſpend as many Days there as I can paſs agreeably, and then take my Leave of it. If the Town be healthy, I ſhall go to London the Beginning of the Winter, and ſtay there juſt as long as it ſmiles on me. But all Things ſeem to frown in the Abſence of my Friends, and I wiſh I don't think the Smiles of the Town impertinent without them. [42] I wiſh I could be ſometimes pleaſed with leſs than you, without I could have you always. Pray write ſoon, and raiſe my Spirits, for I really am forced now to conclude for Want of them,

Dear Sir,
yours, &c. &c. A. WHISTLER.

Service to Mr. D—. I ſincerely hope he is well.

LETTER XIII. Mr. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

Dear Sir,

IF you remember, in your laſt Letter but one, you adviſed me to read Hiſtory: accordingly, as I am always proud to follow your Advice, I pitched upon BURNET's Hiſtory [43] of his own Times. I was over Head and Ears engaged in the Diſputes between Cavaliers, Proteſters, Reſolutioners, and God knows who, when I received your laſt. Though BURNET values himſelf particularly on private Intelligence, I had a greater Curioſity, and entertained far greater Hopes of Pleaſure, in breaking open your Letter; nor was I at all deceived: I think you wrote, if poſſible, more agreeably than uſual; it raiſed my Spirits, and at the ſame Time did more than all King CHARLES's Stateſmen could do: ſet up an abſolute Monarchy in my Breaſt in a Moment, and made you Sovereign there.

Mr. POWYS had a Child chriſtened yeſterday; it was attended to Church by half a Dozen Coaches. The great Mr. POINTZ was one of the Godfathers, and Mrs. TOWNSHEND, now an Inhabitant of your Parts, the Godmother, by Proxy. Mrs. POWYS went out on Pleaſure to the laſt, and if her Horſes had not been good, and her Coachman dexterous to ply them with the Whip, ſhe had been brought to Bed in her Coach, as once before ſhe had like to have been at the Play-Houſe.

[44]
Alas! for our poor Friend COB!
Who ſhall now ſit with Countenance ſerene,
The inoffenſive Judge of ſacred Song,
At once becalm'd with Port and Poetry,
While the great SOMERVILLE attunes his Lays?

As to what you mentioned about your Poem; you can't think me ſuch a Barbarian, as that I ſhould expect you ſhould follow my Advice in every Particular; I rather think you did me an Honour in doing it at all. I know the great Critics have been long endeavouring to be abſolute; but I think it very unreaſonable even in them—and I believe you, as well as myſelf, have too much Spirit to ſubmit to it. If I can any Ways aſſiſt you, by any little Obſervations, you ſhall have my Thoughts, and make uſe of them at your Pleaſure, for I am very fond of that Rule, of doing as one would be done by.—Little Miſs L— out-does TOM TINSELL's Widow.

If the Town is not vaſtly unhealthy indeed, (for I muſt not regard little Diſcouragements, [45] as my Affairs are at preſent) I ſhall ſpend moſt Part of the next Winter at London. You are very friendly, to propoſe to me the moſt agreeable Scheme in the World: but I can't poſſibly ſee the Leaſowes this Summer. I believe it is you, not Mrs. ARNOLD, who have all the Wit of your Country; and if all Things naturally attract there alike, in that Reſpect you will prove a very dangerous Neighbour. I long to ſee you as much as you can do to ſee me: but all I can do now, is to tell you ſo, and that I am, by Honour, Friendſhip, and every other Obligation,

Yours ſincerely, A. WHISTLER.

LETTER XIV. Mr. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[46]
Dear Sir,

I Received you Pacquet, fraught with every Thing that could delight me. I believe more Wit was never conveyed under the Title of a Peer before; not even excepting your own, which, indeed, you generally export by wholeſale in the ſame Method. Your Letter led me through an Elyſian Scene, which delighted me ſo, that I muſt beg Leave to take another Turn with you at preſent therein. There is no Subject I can treat of with ſo much Pleaſure, and, of Conſequence, with ſo much Advantage to myſelf. In the firſt Place, Dick J—, in the Point of Light you ſet him, diverts me; yet Humanity teaches me to feel a Kind of Pity, as for an Animal that ſings and hops about the Cage that has juſt deprived him of his Liberty. Lady LUXBOROUGH I have ſeen, but not in her Sanctuary, where [47] ſhe delivers her Oracles, and diſplays her Eloquence and Elegancies at full. This is what my Soul is a-thirſt after; the holy Land of a future Pilgrimage. You have raiſed a Devotion in me towards her; for we always judge of the Divinity by the Merits of the Prieſt. By your Deſcription of Mr. THOMSON, I admire him, and rejoice in your Acquaintance with him. I beg you would cultivate it, for it ſeems like the Dawning of your Fame, whoſe Merit the ſtupid World only wants to be awakened to ſee. If ever you get your due Share of Fame, I inſiſt that you be not a Niggard of it, as many are, but do your utmoſt Endeavour to communicate it to your Friends—You ſee I ſpeak in Time.

As for Mr. L—N's Civility, I have no great Faith in it; I fear he has only ſome private End to ſerve, as an Election or ſo: but, however, I would have you nouriſh it, for it may breed ſomething by Chance—It will be a Credit to you at worſt—Chance often promotes Lingerers at Court, who have otherwiſe very little Hope. It may fall out, that by ſerving [48] you, he may ſerve himſelf. I ſhould like to have ſeen Signor OUTING, poor Man.

I think the Leaſowes a charming Place in itſelf; but not knowing how in my Imagination at any Time to ſeparate the Work from the Architect, I believe I give the former infinitely more Adoration than its due, even with all its Improvements. You would often ſee me gliding acroſs the Glades, if the Soul was viſible. You, indeed, have contrived to make your Soul, as it were, viſible; and a very beautiful Soul it is; particularly in its laſt Dreſs, which became it exceedingly, I mean Elegy—It was mighty well fancied, and diffuſed a tender, languiſhing Air, its higheſt Character: I am much indebted to it for this ſplendid Viſit; ſpendid I mean in Beauty. The two old Songs likewiſe were very agreeable to me: but chiefly Giles Collins. As for the Song of the Cat, I am much obliged to you for it: but I think the Author ſunk quite beneath himſelf towards the End. The Concluſion was too ſudden, and not worked up enough, and beſides was exceeding dirty; however, it was improved by your Alterations: upon the whole, I [49] like it, and out of my Devotion for the five firſt Stanzas, I have added ſix more, which I ſubmit to your Judgment, whether I have ſupported the true Spirit of the Fragment. Pray excuſe that I have preſumed to omit any of your Alterations; becauſe I thought in this new Scheme the Context required it.

I live in Hopes of ſeeing you at Whitchurch this Winter, and of hearing the happy Tidings when; I beg you will let me know ſome Time before you come, that I may get your Bed in order; I have but one; (it was given me, and is none of the largeſt; indeed, ſmall, which at preſent I lament) otherwiſe I ſhould now give more Invitations; I can entertain but one Friend at a Time: but all my Friends will be ſincerely welcome ſeverally. Again I ſay, I lament the Unſociableneſs of this Scheme, but it is not in my Power to alter it. Mr. G—'s Affair goes on, I am afraid, unhappily. As for my own Situation, I ſhall ſay little, but leave you to take a Survey of it, which I hope you will do ſoon. I think it is calculated for Happineſs, if a Perſon of the leaſt Delicateſſe can be ſo. I rejoice in all you have [50] rejoiced in, and pray for all you pray for, as becomes

Your moſt affectionate Friend and humble Servant, A. WHISTLER.

Pray write.

My Idea of Miſs FLETCHERS is, that they are eaſy without Impertinence; a high Idea in my Opinion. Pray give my Compliments to Lord D—, if in the Country.

LETTER XV. Mr. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

Dear Sir,

I AM very much obliged to you for your laſt kind Letter, and received your Abſolution with a very contrite Heart, though I aſſure you my Sin was not wilful; however, it was ſuch as [51] I ſincerely lamented, even in the Commiſſion; I ſhould rather ſay Omiſſion. I am exceeding ſorry to find you have ſo great a Quarrel with London. I ſpeak ſincerely, when I ſay, I propoſe little Pleaſure there without you. I ſaid in my laſt Letter, we might contrive to meet there, as hitherto; I think we have contrived not to do it, and if we were to meet, I can't but fancy we might make it agreeable to each other. I ſhall go thither immediately after Chriſtmas, and ſhould be glad to wait on you at Whitchurch, and from thence to London. You certainly conclude me happy, in having Mr. GRAVES ſo near me, and with Reaſon. I ſhould think my Scheme of Friendſhip complete, if you was as near; but without that Circumſtance, it is far from being ſo. Sir T. HEAD and Mr. GRAVES ſpent three Days with me laſt Week to my great Satisfaction.

I have had a Swelling in my Foot, which they tell me is the Gout—God forbid!—but 'tis certainly like it. I intend to go into a Milk Diet immediately, for I am terribly alarmed. If it ſhould prove ſo, I ſhall think it a very hard Fate, having been no Drinker, and even [52] Multitudes of thoſe eſcape it: but Fortune favours the Brutes.

It was not our Mr. POWYS's Landau, for he was at Home, and beſides has never a one. I believe Mr. GRAVES and I ſhall return Sir G—'s Favour ſoon, and ſpend about a Week with him. How ſhall we all wiſh for you to be with us! That I ſhall, I can be upon my Bible Oath; and for the reſt, I think I can anſwer in the affirmative. My Brother is at Whitchurch at preſent, who is a conſtant Companion to me while he ſtays, but I fear that will not be long: but Mr. GRAVES I deſign to ſee often, both for Health and Pleaſure.

What with going to London this Winter, and Briſtol in the Summer, as I have laid my Scheme for the future, I ſhall make Whitchurch not quite ſo tedious to me; and above all, the Thought of waiting upon you, both in Oxfordſhire, and at the Leaſowes, vaſtly brightens my future Proſpect. My Father and Mother deſire to join with me in all Civilities to you—But I beg you would believe I ſurpaſs moſt People (notwithſtanding your apparent [53] Merit) in the extreme Regard I have for you, when I ſubſcribe myſelf,

Your moſt ſincere Friend, and humble Servant, A. WHISTLER.

My Duty to Lord D—. I wiſh his Lordſhip would favour me with ſome Franks. I ſhould look upon it as an Honour, and a Piece of Good-nature. A Frank, you know, would convey them.

LETTER XVI. Mr. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

Dear Sir,

I HAVE been extremely buſy of late in new modelling my little Habitation; and the more ſo, to bring it to ſome Kind of Perfection, in Order to receive you. I have been building up, pulling down, planting, rooting up, turning Round to Square, and Square to Round. In ſhort, I don't know, but ſome [54] prudent People would ſay, I have been playing the Devil. Indeed, (as in other Things in Life) my Fancy is ſo confined by the Smallneſs of my Poſſeſſions, that my Scheme is not very expenſive: 'tis all in the Lilliputian Stile, and muſt be ſo. Though I have tried to give it what Air of Magnificence it is capable of, I ſuppoſe it will ſtrut like many of thoſe unfortunate Heroes who happen not to be four Feet and a Half high.

Did Lady LUXBOROUGH approve my Sentiment of enjoying Things beſt by Reflection? I ſtill maintain my Opinion, and endeavour to juſtify it thus: What we enjoy by Reflection we have pure, nay, heightened by our own Fancy, at the ſame Time no Inconvenience attends it; on the contrary, the Pleaſure is more poignant by the Contraſt. The Thought of an Ice-Houſe in the Summer is refreſhing, and the Imagination of July is a Cordial in Froſt and Snow; beſides, you well know Hope is the very Hartſhorn of Life, that enlivens every Thing, and particularly attends imaginary Pleaſures, but vaniſhes whenever they become real—By Reflection, I mean Imagination in general.

[55]I have ſent you Stanzas on Flowers. If Lady LUXBOROUGH likes them, I ſhall be proud of hitting the Pallate of a Lady of ſo high a Taſte. I have likewiſe encloſed another Copy of Verſes—though I am in Doubt, whether I did not ſend them to you laſt Summer; they were done then. I know you don't love Tranſlations, but I have nothing new beſides. I ſet about them merely as an Exerciſe one Night, when I was dull and alone, not intending any Thing but tearing them afterwards, for I knew it was a worn-out Subject—But a fatherly Affection took Place, and I did not care for murdering it, though it was a Baſtard produced unawares.

N. B. I beg that nothing of mine may appear in Print.

I admire thoſe two Lines of Lady WORTLEY's very much. It is a natural yet uncommon and agreeable Thought. I am pleaſed with the Compliment you make me, in ſaying you always wiſh me with you to partake any Pleaſure, and imagine how any Thing extraordinary would [56] ſtrike me: I like it, becauſe I know it is a natural, and thereby, a ſincere Thought by my own Heart. I am ſo far gone that Way, that I can hardly enjoy any Thing extraordinary, without my Friends are with me, eſpecially thoſe whom I know it would particularly ſtrike: but next to gratifying a Friend, is the obſerving, how new and extraordinary Objects work upon a natural Genius; I'll ſuppoſe it a Genius; I think it is one of the higheſt Entertainments in Life; when I can meet with ſuch, and have an Opportunity, I love to read a Play to them, though I know I run the Hazard of being laughed at for my Pains; but I don't care, the Pleaſure pays me for all the malicious fooliſh People can ſay, and you know the natural Criticiſms of Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY were not thought unworthy the Notice of the Britiſh Spectator. For my Part, I have often thought that it is one of the Amuſements of the Supreme Being, who planted firſt the Paſſions in us, to obſerve the Workings and Effects of them. A public Audience gives me Pleaſure upon Truſt, for though I know no one there, I always conclude there are ſome Geniuſſes.

[57]I am of your Opinion, with Regard to Mrs. —, at preſent, for I think, if her Heart be really engaged, which I very much doubt, Diſhonour in Love is the blackeſt of all diſhoneſt Actions, and of the worſt Conſequence—But his precurſive Steps were the Extremity of Folly, conducted with the Extremity of Folly; but he may be happy (and I wiſh he may be happy) in any State of Life. I think our Viſits to DICK J— are fatal; his own Mother lay a dying when we were at Henley. I am very glad to hear you have had ſo many Amuſements. It is always agreeable to me, whenever I hear you have met with a flowery Meadow in your ſublunary Walk. If I have any Taſte, your Hercules is an elegant and truly poetical Poem, and ſuperior to L—'s: if it is not, I reſign my Taſte, for I'll pin it upon your Poem. I don't pretend to Criticiſm; but my Paſſion for SHAKESPEARE, MILTON, POPE, &c. has made me believe, that I have ſome natural Taſte for Beauty. I am much obliged to you for the two genteel Copies of Verſes; they are very pretty, and much to my Fancy. As for Odes, [58] you have expreſſed my Senſe of them all on that of Dr. AKENSIDE; they perplex and fret one more than they pleaſe, and may be deſcribed by the Title of one of SHAKESPEARE's Plays, viz. Much Ado about Nothing.

I have no News to ſend you from hence, that will be in the leaſt entertaining to you. I am in Hopes Mr. GRAVES will ſettle at Whitchurch about Whitſuntide. I have been much out of Order for this Week, by a Cold that I caught in attending my Works; and my Foot gives me ugly Apprehenſions at preſent. I continually pleaſe myſelf with the Thoughts of ſeeing you at Whitchurch; but would never have you make an Inconvenience of what I would have be a Pleaſure to you—I'd have you chooſe your own Time, that you may be quite unembarraſſed: for my Part, I think the ſooner the better; only I would beg the Favour of one Line to prevent all ill Accidents. I think 'tis a Method which ſhould ever be uſed; and I wonder at my own Imprudence, and my own Good Fortune laſt Time I came to the Leaſowes. I long to ſee you, and ſhall be all this Summer at Whitchurch, [59] ready to receive you. Indeed, if I ſhould have the Gout, as I ſomething fear it, I would let you know, for that would interrupt all our Pleaſure. I beg my Compliments to Mr. DOLMAN: you have likewiſe the Compliments of this Place. With Wiſhes to ſee you, and Compliments grounded upon the utmoſt Sincerity, I am,

Dear Sir,
yours to an Exceſs, A. WHISTLER.

LETTER XVII. Mr. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

Dear Mr. SHENSTONE,

YOU ſee that I am as eager to anſwer your Letter as you was to anſwer mine, and if my Letter gave you Pain, I aſſure you, that yours has equally perplexed me. I am [60] in great Hopes, you have miſinterpreted my Senſe, in Regard to Mr. G—; and by as much as I can recollect, I believe you have. He always ſpeaks of you with the utmoſt Reſpect in your Abſence, and is much leſs ſevere even upon what he calls your little Faults, than when you are preſent: all that I hinted at, was ſome little Shyneſs he lately ſhewed to me, on the Account which you and I have often mentioned. I have heard you ſay, you have experienced the ſame from him on the like Score. But you could not poſſibly be now included, being abſent; no, I aſſure you, I only ſpoke of myſelf; and his Fault towards me would have been imperceptible, but to the Delicacy of Friendſhip; nor been have worth communicating, but to one whom my Love would animate againſt the like Failing. I declare to you, the Sentence which included Mr. G—'s Name, was the only one which regarded him; what followed, though I confeſs that gave Riſe to it, was only to ſhew my different Sentiments, and I own my Eſteem for Friendſhip carried me a great Length. I have been very particular to ſatisfy you, as well as to juſtify Mr. G—, and by that Means to juſtify [61] myſelf. I ſhould have never have forgiven myſelf, if I had been the Cauſe, though inadvertently, of dividing ſo much Worth as I have always diſcovered in you both, and which though ſeparated, it might ſtill continue to bleſs me, yet when united, like moſt other Things, it has a more powerful Effect. I would not have Mr. G— know a Word of this, for the moſt trifling Reflection, when told again, is offenſive; nor ſhould I have ſaid what I did, but to a common Friend; in Truth, it is not every-body who poſſibly might feel it ſo acutely as myſelf; but you know my Diſpoſition. I have a Senſibility in my Friendſhips, that ariſes even to a Soreneſs, and the ſlighteſt Air of Coolneſs makes me wince. This, though in its Conſequences ſometimes it may render me unpleaſing to my Intimates, certainly has its Source in a Merit, namely, in the Ardour of my Attachments; and therefore I ſhould hope is eaſily pardonable. You remember the elegant Line in COTTON's beautiful Viſion of Friendſhip; ‘"Cold is the only Ill they fear."’

[62]After I had ſealed my laſt, I was afraid it had rather an Air of Compliment than Sincerity; if it had, I aſſure you, it was only the Air, and what the Good-humour, I am always in when I write to you, might inſpire me with. You ſee the Eſteem I have for you, by turning Critic on myſelf in your Behalf. I am now going to mention, what there is no Occaſion at all to ſay, but Friendſhip is the moſt incontinent Thing in the World; I have long been ſenſible of your Worth; that is, ever ſince I knew you; but I muſt ſay, I think it was our laſt Meeting which entirely united me to you; every Letter of yours ſince has heightened my Affection for you. I look upon this as my firſt Abſence from you; your Letters are now neceſſary to ſupply your Preſence; you yourſelf taught me this Taſte of Luxury, therefore it is but reaſonable you ſhould ſupport the Expence. In ſhort, I beg you would write ſoon. I am afraid I ſhall tire you by ſo frequent a Correſpondence, but I particularly long to know the Succeſs of this Letter.

Dear Mr. SHENSTONE,
I am yours, &c. A. WHISTLER.

LETTER XVIII. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to Miſs LOWE.

[63]
Madam,

I Fancy I've been condemned a Thouſand Times, on Account of not ſending the Tunes. One of them was lent out, and I had not an Opportunity of fetching it till laſt Week. I don't know whether this Reaſon will prove ſufficient, but I aſſure you it was the real one. I tore them out of my Book, and on that Account you have ſome others with them. I was willing you ſhould have them in the beſt Shape poſſible, and dare ſay, you'll improve as much upon them, as I have degenerated from them.

I want exceedingly to hear from you; but you will ſcarce think it conſiſtent with a rural Reputation to write yourſelf. 'Tis, indeed, ſcarce worth while to hazard it, to give me [64] ever ſo great a Pleaſure, but I could wiſh you would here remember the Character of a Town-Lady.—Lord! How does Miſs UTY? I did not wonder you ſhould mutually envy each other, ſince you are both ſo great Objects of Envy: more particularly, as Modeſty has taught you to think your own Merit ſmall in Compariſon with that of others. Voilà la ſeule Source de toute Envie!—I'm ſurely vaſtly impertinent, for I'm not poſitive you underſtand French: but I gueſs'd that a Lady, ſo accompliſhed in all other Particulars, might. I fancy you've enjoy'd a vaſt deal of agreeable Gaiety ſince I left you, whilſt I have been wandering about Harborough's gloomy Walks and Pools, like a Shepherd ‘"deſpairing beſide a clear Stream."’—Oh! I want to know, whether or no, for the common Good of our Society in particular, as of our Country in general, it is, and may be lawful to admit, without the uſual Number of Members being preſent at the Solemnity; for I judge it better to lay aſide ſome Part of the Ceremony, than that any one ſhould die uninitiated—Whether or no as in Baptiſm—I was truly going too far.—I am [65] ſafe enough, let me go what Lengths I will, in ſubſcribing myſelf

the humbleſt of your humble Servants, W. SHENSTONE.

LETTER XIX. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to Mrs. A—

Dear Madam,

I Promiſed to give you ſome Account what became of Cheltenham, after Mr. A— had pillaged it of all that was moſt valuable. Poſſibly before this Time, you may have forgot both my Promiſe and me, and it may not be extremely political to renew your Remembrance of a Perſon who has been ſo long ſeemingly neglectful. The Truth is, I can no more bear to be forgot by thoſe I eſteem, than I [66] can be cenſured of Forgetfulneſs with Regard to them, and I know no Way but Writing, by which I can evade both.

Some Sort of Apology I ought to make, that I did not write before; you will therefore pleaſe to obſerve, that I am but juſt arrived at Home, though I left Cheltenham the Day after you. I ſtayed, indeed, to hear Mr. B— preach a Morning Sermon; for which I find Mrs. C— has allotted him the Hat, preferably to Mr. C—. Perhaps you may not remember, nor did I hear till very lately, that there is a Hat given annually at Cheltenham, for the Uſe of the beſt foreign Preacher, of which the Diſpoſal is aſſigned to Mrs. C—, to her and her Heirs for ever. I remember (tho' I knew nothing of this whilſt I was upon the Place) I uſed to be a little miſdeemful, that all who preached there had ſome ſuch Premium in their Eye. This Hat, 'tis true, is not quite ſo valuable as that of a Cardinal, but while it is made a Retribution for Excellence in ſo (if properly conſidered) ſublime a Function, it is an Object for a Preacher in any Degree. I am ſorry, at the ſame Time, [67] to ſay, that as a common Hat, merely for its Uſes, it would be an Object to too many Country Curates, whoſe Situations and ſlender Incomes too often excite our Bluſhes, as well as Compaſſion. There ſhould be no ſuch Thing as a Journeyman Parſon; it is beneath the Dignity of the Profeſſion. If we had fewer Pluralities in the Church, this Indecorum might, in a great Meaſure, be aboliſhed.

Mr. N— (Squire N—) I hear is fitting up his Caſtle at L— for the Reception of the little Widow; and the Mercer at Cheltenham has completed his grand Arcade, for the better Diſpoſition of his Crapes and Callimancos.

I am an ill Relater of Matters of Fact, and as I ſaid before, did not continue above four and twenty Hours and ſome odd Minutes upon the Place longer than you that enquire after it: but I ſurvived long enough to hear very frequent Mention of Mrs. A—, Miſs CARTER, &c. and ſuch Mention, as has confirmed me in an Opinion, that Perſons of real Merit, without any Expence of Airs, &c. will by Degrees engroſs the Admiration of any Place [68] they come into. But this is a Kind of Language you would never indulge me in; you might very ſecurely; for I ſhould never be able to expreſs half the ſincere Eſteem and Reſpect with which I am,

Madam,
your moſt obedient, humble Servant, W. SHENSTONE.

LETTER XX. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to Miſs CARTER.

Dear Miſs CARTER,

PERHAPS you may remember to have ſeen an odd Kind of Fellow when you were at Cheltenham, who threatened you with a Letter, and who is now endeavouring to be as bad as his Word; however he hopes for ſome little [69] Partiality on his Behalf, having delayed the Execution of his Menaces for a conſiderable Time, and even now promiſing to ſay as few Things in your Favour as the real Sentiments of his Heart will admit of.

But Peace to Buffoonery.—After I parted from you, Mr. M—N, with great Simplicity, endeavoured to keep up my Spirits, by ſpeaking in Praiſe of the Family we had left, as though that was not the ready Method to aggravate the Senſe of one's Loſs; and yet to aggravate it was utterly impoſſible in the Opinion of a Perſon already ſo ſenſible of it. But he mentioned one Article which was more ſucceſsful, and that was a Propoſal to accompany me to Stoke, and to let me know when it ſuited his Convenience.

When I came to Cheltenham, I was not unmindful of that ſolemn Vow that I had made, not to ſurvive your Family there a ſingle Hour: but I found it near five o'Clock, and my Conſcience ſaid, that as I had made it ſo late, by my Attendance upon you, though I did ſtay another Night, I hoped I might be excuſed.

[70]I have been, ſince leaving this Town, at Mr. BROWN's, who lives upon the Borders of Wales.—Poor Man! He has been the moſt obliging Perſon in the World to the moſt ſtupid of Companions. 'Tis hardly poſſible to determine which was greater, the Zeal with which he ſhewed me his Foſſils, Plants, Poetry, &c. or the ſtupid Inattention with which I obſerved them. He commends you and Mrs. AUBREY highly; ſo, indeed, do all I know, or I would ſoon forget that I had ever ſeen their Faces. He had found out a Method at laſt of ſeducing me to talk, by frequent Mention of your Merits, and it was a good While before I diſcovered his Artifice; and even when I had diſcovered it, I was ill able to elude the Force of it.

I am now juſt returned Home, which is my Apology for not writing to you about Cheltenham as I promiſed. I really ſcarce recollect any Circumſtance belonging to it, except that you and Mrs. AUBREY were there the moſt favourable, agreeable, and praiſe-worthy.

[71]What, does Mr. M— boaſt of the glorious Abſurdity he committed at parting, in miſtaking my Horſe for his? When I ſee him next, I will produce a Hundred I have been lately guilty of, to no one of which his is able to compare. His, you know, commenced in the very Moment of parting, and conſequently was little wonderful, in Compariſon of thoſe I have ſince committed; beſides, his Horſe had a Spot or two of Brown on him, and was therefore eaſily miſtaken at ſuch a Time for one that was Sorrel all over.

After all, you are a very wicked Lady—you defrauded me of the Croſlet you promiſed me, putting me off with a ſingle Bead; but it was yours, and that's enough. The moſt trivial Donation from a Perſon we eſteem, has a large Value. I acknowledge to have a great Penchant for what the Vulgar call Keep-Sakes. The French are notably practiſed in theſe little Elegancies; we are not ſo much ſo, as, I think, a poliſhed People ought to be.

I am, dear Miſs CARTER,
Your moſt ſincere Admirer, and humble Servant, W. SHENSTONE.
[72]

Don't expoſe the Nonſenſe-Verſes I gave you, I entreat you.

LETTER XXI. S. D—, Eſq. to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

Dear Sir,

I WAS ſome Time ſince at Mr. WHISTLER's Chamber, when he received a Letter from you, the Sight of which revived in my Mind the pleaſing Correſpondence you once favoured me with; the Loſs of which I much regret.—Do you never think of returning to Oxford? Have you left nothing there that may give us Leave once more to expect you? I won't be ſo poetically complaiſant, as to ſay every Thing appears grieved at your Abſence, but I aſſure you, Sir, there are ſome that ſeem ſincerely to lament it. I can't compare thoſe little People that have ſometimes [73] cenſured you, to any Thing but Ants, who are generally moſt troubleſome in the fineſt Seaſon. I can't hope, that even a ſhort Stay at C— could be made agreeable, but Novelty is ſometimes pleaſing; deſcend then, and ſee the new Acquaintance I have made, which is like to prove a very laſting one: may yours be no leſs ſo!—Mr. GRAVES is in Glouceſterſhire, and Mr. WHISTLER, God knows where, and you unkindly conceal from me the Place of your Reſidence. I ſhall direct this wandering Epiſtle as uſual, but imagine, if it is ſo fortunate as to find you, it will be in your Hermitage, where I preſume you are before this retired. Were I Mr. WHISTLER, with what Pleaſure ſhould I leave the World, and all its Vanities, for Mr. SHENSTONE and a Cell—Though I muſt own, your Intention of making Mr. L—N immortal, by a Dedication, and ſinging the Praiſes and Virtues of the Court, ſeem to cheriſh gayer Thoughts than ſuit that peaceful Station. Whether Hermit or Courtier, be aſſured that whatever conduces to your Happineſs is ſincerely wiſhed by me

S. D—.

LETTER XXII. S. D—, Eſq. to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[74]
Dear Sir,

I CAN omit no Opportunity of ſhewing my Deſire of continuing a Correſpondence that has always given me ſo much Pleaſure. I wrote you a Letter ſome Time ago, and ſhould have uſed ſo little Ceremony, as to have troubled you with another, had I known in what Part of the World you was. If you know any Thing of Mr. G—, I ſhould be glad to hear ſomething of him; I am informed that he is a Curate in ſome Village very remote—It is a great Pity, ſo much Merit ſhould be no better rewarded. We have been returned from London about three Weeks: if I had known you were in Town, I ſhould have left it with much more Reluctance. If you come into Oxfordſhire this Summer, I hope you will favour me with a Viſit at C—, which will be a very great Pleaſure to us all.

[75]You cannot imagine how happy you have made me, in giving me Hopes of enjoying a Sight of your Poems; from which I am ſure of reaping a Pleaſure which can admit of no Addition, but by receiving them from your own Hands. I am glad to hear that Mr. G— is ſettled ſo much to his Satisfaction: if he is at All Souls, I hope I ſhall ſee him before he leaves Oxford.

I have lately loſt a very agreeable Relation and ſincere Friend. Perhaps you have heard Mr. WHISTLER mention Miſs B—: ſhe died at C— about three Months ſince, after a ſhort Illneſs of two Days; which added ſo much to the melancholy Situation here, that we were obliged to fly to Town for Amuſements. I came down ten Days ſince, and ſhall return again to-morrow, for about a Week longer. May I hope, dear Sir, to find a Letter here from you? I am ſure the reading of it will give me more real Pleaſure than any Company or Diverſion I can propoſe to find in London. I am ſorry to ſend you any News that will give you Concern; but can't help [76] telling you, that I hear poor Mr. R. G— is dangerouſly ill of a Fever in Town. Mr. WHISTLER has left Oxford, on Account of the Small-Pox, which is very much there, and at preſent in Pembroke College.

Notwithſtanding this unſeaſonable Weather, I muſt beg leave to put you in Mind of your Promiſe, and enquire when it is you deſign us the Pleaſure of your Company in Oxfordſhire; where you will meet with a great many who will rejoice much to ſee you, and none more than your

affectionate Friend and humble Servant, S. D—.

LETTER XXIII. A. B. Eſq. to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[77]

FOR the Soul's Food, ſtrengthened by the more ſubſtantial bodily Food, I have for theſe nine Days paſt imbibed at your Villa, the Leaſowes, I am much obliged to my dear Mr. SHENSTONE: Time will not, however, at preſent, allow me to beſtow more of my Eloquence on you for it; you muſt therefore be ſatisfied with ‘"the Altar of Gratitude,"’ I have it in my Head hereafter to erect to your Honour.

We are invited to ſtay at Hagley on Monday next—Dinner at two o'Clock—May I expect the Pleaſure of meeting you there? If you have had a Card let me know, per Bearer, that I may not, as I do now, groan with Apprehenſions of the Day. His moſt excellent of Excellencies, the Governor, and Miſtreſs HESTER, ſtay till the latter End of September, ſo you [78] will certainly be honoured with them at the Leaſowes.

My beſt, and I think I may ſay, my only dear Lord, Lord D—, was here on Friday laſt, with Intent to dine and ſpend the Day; but as I was from Home, went to Hagley, and dined with the Lord LYTTELTON, at the worthy Admiral SMITH's.

Oblige me with deſiring DODSLEY to bid his Brother ſend me the Annual Regiſters, bound, as we agreed on this Morning, and lettered, when he ſends me The World, &c.

Did I not know you above even the leaſt Degree of Policy to your Friends, I ſhould ſuſpect, that you ſent me Lady LUXBOROUGH's Letters to intimate to me, what ſo dull a Correſpondent, and inſipid a Friend as myſelf, muſt expect, when you could bear Accuſations of Negligence, in anſwering ſuch agreeable and ſprightly Letters, as thoſe of her Ladyſhip; and I could almoſt wiſh, though the Peruſal of them gave me the greateſt Pleaſure, that you had not favoured me with a Sight of them; [79] as I cannot help drawing Omens from them to myſelf the moſt dreadful: if you did not then mean me ill, in your obliging Compliment of the Sight of them, let me ſee or hear from you ſoon; and tell me, that though you have heretofore ſlighted a Lady's Favours, you will not neglect a ſincere Friend, who admires and eſteems you more than (from what I think I have heard you ſay of her Ladyſhip) ſhe could. But to wave this, and leave you to your own Generoſity; I muſt thank you for yours of March 26th; had I not depended on your Promiſe in it, I ſhould have again troubled you e'er this: but I muſt now tell you, that I hope the Week after Eaſter Week, for the Pleaſure of your Company here, and if convenient, to take a Bed with us. In the Holidays, I apprehend we ſhall have Holiday Company, which will be neither agreeable to you nor us; as we ſhall not by ſuch Interruption be able to pay the Attention we ought, and are ever deſirous of paying to ſo agreeable a Friend as Mr. SHENSTONE.

I like the Binding of your MILTON much; but not to compliment, diſlike the Cuts as [80] much, for I really think the Engraver has made our firſt Parents frightful Figures, and the Angels and Devils almoſt equally lovely—Could you get mine bound as yours, without the Cuts, ſhould be much obliged to you.

I have retired from Company, we have in the Houſe, to write this Scrawl; this, I hope, will be an Excuſe for it, and convince you, that I am reſolved never to loſe any Opportunity of aſſuring dear Mr. SHENSTONE, that I am

moſt ſincerely, his affectionate Friend, A. B—.

Have taken the Liberty of keeping Lady LUXBOROUGH's Letters ſome Time longer for Mrs. B—'s Peruſal; who joins with all here in beſt Compliments to the Leaſowes.

[81]

I ſhould be glad if you could procure me half a Ream of Mr. BASKERVILLE's beſt plain thin writing Paper; I mean gilt, but not bordered.

LETTER XXIV. Mr. J. WHISTLER to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

SIR,

I MAKE no Doubt, but you will be much ſurpriſed at the Receipt of this, and like wiſe greatly concerned at the melancholy Occaſion of it. As the Friendſhip ſubſiſting between you and my Brother has been of ſo long ſtanding, I ſhould be glad to communicate its Contents to you more gently by ſome other Hand; but for Want of a Friend in your Neighbourhood, who has the Honour of your Acquaintance, muſt do it myſelf in the leaſt affecting Manner I am capable.

[82]The Beginning of this Month, my Brother was taken ill of a ſore Throat, which continued for ſome Days, without any apparent Symptoms of Danger; indeed, towards the laſt it was judged the Diſorder was throwing itſelf off: but to the great Surpriſe of every one, a Mortification in his Inſide was then begun, and came on ſo faſt, that it was out of the Power of Art, to ſtop it, of which he expired the 10th. In April, I had the Pleaſure of his Company at Briſtol for a few Days, with my Father, when amongſt other agreeable Schemes for this Summer's Amuſement, he propoſed to himſelf very great Pleaſure, from paying Mr. SHENSTONE a Viſit—But Man propoſes and God diſpoſes. I have loſt a very good kind Brother; therefore hope thoſe who were his Friends will continue their Friendſhip to me for his Sake, which I ſhall always endeavour to deſerve. To give you this melancholy Information is a painful Duty; but it is what I am compelled to pay. I can, in ſome Meaſure, conceive the many afflicting Recollections which will ariſe in your humane Mind, on this Event! Your Friendſhip and Correſpondence [83] ſubſiſted a conſiderable Time, and with reciprocal Satisfaction. He was unqueſtionably endowed with natural good Senſe, well improved by Education and Reading, of a lively pleaſing Fancy, and a benevolent Heart. He was, in ſhort, what your Pen might moſt exquiſitely deſcribe, but what mine is unequal to.

I beg your Acceptance of a Ring, in Remembrance of him, which ſhall be conveyed to Birmingham the firſt Opportunity. My Father deſires his Service. My Wife likewiſe joins with me in Compliments. I am, Sir,

your obedient, humble Servant, J. WHISTLER.*

LETTER XXV. A. B. Eſq. to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[84]
Dear Mr. SHENSTONE,

I Should with Pleaſure have obeyed your kind Command, and troubled you with a Letter before this, but that I waited to give you ſome Account of your Friends here. I ſaw Mr. DODSLEY ſoon after I came to Town; he ſeems a very good Sort of Man, and I like him much; I believe he is quite ſatisfied with the Succeſs of his Play, for he is in good Health and Spirits.* Mr. WREN I could not meet with, till Friday laſt, when I found him very buſy with half a Dozen young Anatomiſts, (for ſuch I preſume they were) and Pen, Ink, and a Ream of Paper before them; had I been free enough with your Friend, I ſhould certainly have enquired, what weighty Diſcoveries they had been engaged in, for they all looked prodigious wiſe when I entered the Room; but I was ſoon left Tête-à-Tête with [85] Mr. W—, and then Subjects of ſtill greater Importance, ſuch as Plays, Operas, &c. &c. were to be diſcuſſed. Without a Compliment, I think our Friend improves upon Acquaintance much; but I wiſh him, as you tell him, leſs volatile: to ſay the Truth, when you brought him to W— with K—, he was ſo very alert, that I was not (but that he came with you) much prejudiced in his Favour; however, I find he has more Merit than thoſe over-lively young Gentlemen generally have; and I doubt not, but when you have pruned the Luxuriancy of his Sprightlineſs, he will make a very good Figure.

I am ſincerely ſorry, my Congratulations on your having a Place under Government were premature; but I cannot ſay, I wiſh you, as your Friend GRIFFITH terms it, Polaury, though I know it could not have the Effect on you, it ſo evidently has had on —: but what any one could think due to CIBBER's Merit, Mr. SHENSTONE ought to think beneath him.

I have not the Book you enquired for in yours, nor any one that I can recollect, from [86] you. The Letters you were ſo good as to ſend me, are ſafe locked up in my Bureau, and ſhall be returned when we meet; I took the Liberty of keeping them, as I had no Opportunity of ſending to the Leaſowes before I ſet out for London: if you have any Commands here, I hope you will oblige me with them, and when you are at Leiſure, let me hear from you: but DODSLEY tells me, you are re-peruſing your Elegies, (he hopes for the Preſs) and I would not interrupt you from ſuch Engagements for the World, as you have too long deprived the Learned and Taſteful the Pleaſure of admiring them.

Adieu, dear Mr. SHENSTONE;
believe me yours moſt ſincerely, A. B.

The Hurry of London to a Man who purpoſes ſpending but ſeven Weeks in it, will, I hope, plead excuſe for this Scrawl.

LETTER XXVI. A. B—, Eſq. to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[87]

I Can't but think you wrong, my dear SHENSTONE, though placed, as you ſeem to think now,

Far from all Reſort of Mirth,
Save the Cricket on the Hearth;

you, who have in your Mind ſuch an inexhauſtible Fund of Amuſement, refined Amuſement, in envying ſo inferior an Animal as your Friend A. B—, whoſe chief Happineſs, even in London, ought (I ſhrewdly ſuſpect) to be that he can call you, and one more worthy Man, (you know who I mean) his Friends. The Pleaſures of London, I think I may ſay, the innocent ones, loſe much of their Power to pleaſe, unleſs participated with thoſe who have refined Senſe enough to enjoy and partake thoſe delicate Feelings with a Friend—few ſuch are ever to be found here, and without ſuch, where's the Society? Diſſipation, my Friend, is the general [88] or chief Amuſement of this Town, to the Generality of People; and though it abounds with Amuſements and Pleaſures truly rational, yet by a too frequent, if not corrupted Uſe, theſe very Pleaſures become irrational; ſuch they are to the Generality of my Acquaintance, and though I hope I do not pretend to be wiſer than they, yet I cannot feel a Pleaſure in going with them to Entertainments of the nobleſt Kind, where I muſt not attend, but join with them in endeavouring to draw off the Attention of others, to my Companion or ſelf; for this Reaſon then, I generally go to a Play, &c. by myſelf, and by this very Means, loſe much of the Pleaſure I ſhould otherwiſe receive from it. I wiſh, ‘"with all my Heart,"’ as the true Engliſhman's Phraſe is, that you could, with Convenience to yourſelf, come to Town; but I will not pity you, who can ſo well divert yourſelf in any Place, becauſe you cannot come. Let Wretches unbleſſed with a Mind rich as yours, with a Senſibility capable of receiving Delight, from every common Occurrence, be ſincerely pitied, pitied without the ungenerous Contempt, that you intimate is ſo generally its Attendant: but be you, [89] my Friend, the Envy of all who are meanly capable of ſo low a Paſſion, and the Admiration of every honeſtly-diſtinguiſhing Heart. Your Mind, my Friend, is rightly formed for true Happineſs; be yourſelf, and be happy—but I grow impertinently officious; could you look into my Heart, ſuch Officiouſneſs would, from your Good-nature, meet with the Pardon I think I might ſay it deſerves; for that I am ſo, is that I can with the greateſt Sincerity ſubſcribe myſelf

your faithful and affectionate Friend, A. B—.

Excuſe this Scrawl; and if a great deal of Nonſenſe, excuſe that too, for I have not Time to peruſe it, the Poſt-Bell now ringing.

I purpoſe leaving London, Monday Se'en-night; oblige me with a Line in Anſwer to this before I ſet out, if you can conveniently.

LETTER XXVII. A. B—, Eſq. to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[90]
Dear Mr. SHENSTONE,

TO anſwer your kind Letter as I wiſh is not in my Power; let it ſuffice then, to remind you, that where the Heart really feels moſt, Silence is the only Eloquence ſhe can uſe.

Why will you not agree with me in the Want I complained of? Had I not felt it, I ſhould not have troubled you with it. What Anſwer can you make, when I tell you, that my choiceſt Friend, Lord D—, from a Tenderneſs of Sentiment, never frequents the Amuſements you and I admire, and think innocent ones? Find me another Friend like him capable of delicately feeling, and participating every rational Pleaſure, (yourſelf excepted) to be the Companion I wiſhed for, and I'll grant your Plea of ‘"Indeciſion;"’ till you can do that, come over to my Side of the Queſtion.

[91]As to Affairs in Town, I will not utter a Syllable concerning them till I ſee you here; only I muſt tell you, that London daily walks nearer Mary-le-Bone than you or I could have believed ſo corpulent a Lady able to do.

The Ramblers and World I read this laſt Summer, and was much entertained with both, tho' I think the former greatly the Superior; and had I not thought it Preſumption in me to recommend any Author to you, I perhaps might, in worſe Language, have urged your reading them, as you have ſo kindly mine.

I have ſent your Pencils per Bearer; but muſt beg to keep La Pompadour ſome Time longer, as I have not quite done with her; nor, indeed, is it fit ſo great a Lady ſhould travel but in a Carriage; come and fetch her then in your Chaiſe, or we ſhall be reckoned greater Boors, by the polite Countrymen, than we already are.—Adieu; be Happineſs ever yours!

Your affectionate Friend, A. B—.
[92]

All here join in beſt Compliments to the Leaſowes.

P. S. The underwritten Quotation from THOMSON ſtruck Mr. B— ſo ſtrongly as he paſſed by the Leaſowes ſome Time ago, that he hopes Mr. SHENSTONE will excuſe his troubling him with it.

As nearer to this Farm you made approach,
He poliſh'd Nature with a finer Hand;
Yet on her Beauties durſt not Art encroach,
'Tis Art's alone theſe Beauties to expand;
In graceful Dance immingled o'er the Land,
Pan, Pales, Flora and Pomona play'd:
An happy Place!

LETTER XXVIII. A. B—, Eſq. to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[93]
Dear Mr. SHENSTONE,

YOU make me very happy, by the kind Turn you give to the unfaſhionable Reſerve I told you in my laſt I labour under. I am ſincerely deſirous of being dear to you; and if the ‘"eadem velle atque eadem nolle"’ is a good Omen of a laſting Friendſhip, I have good Reaſons to hope, that the Names of W. SHENSTONE and A. B— will ever be mutually eſteemed by each other; for without meaning a Compliment, but to my own Judgment, I really think, to know what you like or diſlike, ſome few Perſons excepted, is ſufficient to make me do the ſame: but I beg for the future, when you mention the Valuables London robs the Country of, at this Seaſon, you will not immediately add, that Lord P— is juſt ſet out from N— on his Way here.

[94] A-propos! You tell me you are buſy in regulating your Library; will not you laugh at me, if I draw a Compariſon, and tell you that I am engaged at preſent in a ſimilar Affair? Regulating the Friends I henceforward deſign admitting into my Heart's inmoſt Receſs. You, I dare ſay, even in your Library have admitted ſome Rubbiſh, you will now throw out; how much then muſt I, who from a very Child have been a Kind of Enthuſiaſt in Friendſhip, have to cleanſe from my Eſteem? Indeed, I find upon Examination, I have been much out in my Collection, and have ranked many fugacious Pamphlets, as JOHNSON calls them, as Firſtrate Authors; but I ſhall make a total Rummage, and hope, for the future, my Taſte will be more refined; indeed, I do not fear it, for I have choſen your Worſhip ſole Librarian of the Place; and to ſay the Truth, I find you ſo delicate a Gentleman, that you have routed every other living Soul, (my own neareſt Relations excepted) nor can I find that you will admit any one elſe to enter the poor Cell you have the Charge of but Lord D—: well, well, you are quite right; I ſhall have enough [95] to do to value you two as I ought; you two ſhall be my Study, and if I don't improve enough from reading you, it will be my Fault: for the Pamphlets, I ſhall dip into them occaſionally, at an idle Hour, unleſs a female one demands my cloſer Application; but I promiſe you, I ſhall be very cautious in my Choice of her.

I am much obliged to you, for offering to introduce me to the Acquaintance of Dr. G—. I ſhould eagerly lay hold of the Favour, but that I purpoſe leaving London on Monday the 26th of this Month, and ſhall not have Time to pay him the Attention I owe every Friend of Mr. SHENSTONE's.

I have from your Recommendation read the Hiſtory of La Pompadour, and like it very well; it ſeems authentic, though not much to the Honour of the Dame or Louis le Grand.

I ſhall expect two Letters from your Worſhip, in anſwer to my laſt Nonſenſe and this, and pray, good Sir, do be not ſo very conciſe. Mr. SHENSTONE, believe me, is worſe Company [96] than any Man, when he is ſilent; moſt People know how agreeable every Word he ſays is, and when he is pleaſed to be mute, cannot but be uneaſy. According to this, you'll ſay, your Friend wiſhes you to kill yourſelf with talking; not ſo—but he refers the Whole to your better Judgment, who knows beſt (when your modeſt Humility does not too much interfere) how to do every Thing with the beſt Grace.

If you have by you your Ode on Autumn, or Damon's Bower, and care to truſt them by the Bearer, you will do me a great Favour in ſending them. If you can venture out of your agreeable Shell at the Leaſowes, and (provided you are preparing your Elegies for the Preſs) will bring them with you, not letting the Favour you do us delay the Pleaſure you will give the polite World in publiſhing them, we ſhall think ourſelves happy in accommodating you with a warm Room, Pen, Ink and Paper, in this Part of the World.

I return the Ducheſs of SOMERSET's Letters, which I have peruſed with great Pleaſure, particularly [97] thoſe which give the Honour due to my Friend, Mr. SHENSTONE.

You have the joint good Wiſhes of our preſent contracted Fire-Side.

Believe me, dear Sir,
Your very affectionate, A. B—.

LETTER XXIX. A. B—, Eſq. to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

Dear Sir,

THE Compliment you make me, of deſiring me to correct, abridge, &c. &c. the Sheets you have ſo obligingly ſent me, puts me ſo much in Mind of MOLIERE's reading his Plays to his old Woman, before he produced them [98] to the Stage, that I can hardly perſuade myſelf, though I am but juſt turned twenty-ſeven, and have a good Pair of Mr. DEHENNIC's favourite Lambſkin Breeches on, that I am not of the other Sex, and at leaſt ſeventy: as ſuch I have preſumed to give you my Opinion freely, (which you will find firſt interſperſed on little Bits of Paper, among your Proof-Sheets) and I deſire you will not eſteem it in any other Light. I am vain enough of the Friendſhip you have diſtinguiſhed me with, and I deſire you will not let your kind Partiality make me more unworthy of it than I am, by adding to my Vanity. As a Poet I admire, and as a Friend I love you: but you muſt not apply to me, for what I am not able, with any Credit to myſelf, to oblige you in. I am glad you ſent DODSLEY's fourth Volume, as I parted with my Set of his Poems this Summer to a Friend, who begged them of me. Am much obliged to you, for the Print of your Grove, and though I think it makes not near the Figure on Paper ſo lovely a Scene would be imagined to do, ſhall value it much.

[99]I ought to make many Apologies for keeping the Books you were ſo kind as to lend me, ſo long; but in ſuch Eſtimation do I hold every Thing that comes from the Leaſowes, that a common Attention to it will not ſatisfy me, and I cannot readily part with it in haſte; this then muſt excuſe me to you, and I flatter myſelf it will, as I know you are my Friend.

Adieu, dear Mr. SHENSTONE. The ſooner you favour us with your Company, the more you will oblige us all.

Your very faithful and affectionate, A. B—.

LETTER XXX. Mr. DODSLEY to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[100]
Dear Mr. SHENSTONE,

I Am very ſorry you have been ſo much indiſpoſed ſince I left you. Bleeding, Vomiting, Purging, the Doctor, and the Diſeaſe, are too many Enemies for a Man to ſtruggle with at once; and I heartily wiſh you Joy of your Victory againſt ſuch apparent Odds. I am ſure, I have very little Reaſon to ſuppoſe, you make Sickneſs a Plea for Lazineſs, ſince you have taken infinitely more Pains on my Account, than you ſeem diſpoſed to take on your own. Pray think of this, and learn to love yourſelf as well as you do your Friends; pay as much Regard to your own Fame as you do to theirs, and the World will be obliged to you.

I received a Letter from Mr. EAVES; he tells me, the Fables are finiſhed, and that they [101] will come up to Town this Week. I ſhall be very glad of it; for I find even then, that I ſhall not be able to publiſh before February. You tell me the Portrait is only delayed till you can ſee ALCOCK—Can it be delayed to a more uncertain Time? You do not imagine how many Friends are longing to ſee it; and here the Winter is paſſing away, and I am loſing the Pleaſure of obliging your Friends as well as my own. I hope I ſhall ſee Mr. H— when he comes to Town. I expect Mr. D— ſoon after New-Year's Day—Would to God you would come with him! Now is your Time to make Intereſt for Preferment, as Merit ſeems, at preſent, the beſt Recommendation to Favour. Come, and give the Miniſtry an Opportunity of doing themſelves Credit. With the Compliments of the Seaſon, and my beſt Wiſhes in all Seaſons, I conclude, and am,

Dear Sir,
ever affectionately yours, R. DODSLEY.

LETTER XXXI. Mr. DODSLEY to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[102]
Dear Mr. SHENSTONE,

HOPING by this Time you are in a fair Way of Recovery, I venture to write to you. Indeed, I was extremely alarmed by the Account Dr. ASH gave me of you in his firſt Letter, and alſo by a Line from Miſs H—: but by a ſecond Letter from the Doctor, and by a Note afterwards from Mr. BASKERVILLE, I received ſome Hopes of your Recovery, tho' not enough to encourage me to write to yourſelf, for fear of the worſt. I have been extremely uneaſy indeed, and ſtill continue ſo. Pray let MOLLY, or ſomebody, give me a Line, to ſatisfy me how you are. Don't offer to write yourſelf, if it be the leaſt uneaſy to you: I will be ſatisfied with hearing from any Hand that you are better, and when you are able to write yourſelf, I ſhall be happy. Lord S— is come to Town, and in a Day or two I purpoſe to wait on him. I have not yet ſeen [103] Sir H. E—: I think I had better ſee Lord S— firſt. God preſerve you, and ſend you a ſpeedy Recovery.

I am ever moſt affectionately yours, R. DODSLEY.

LETTER XXXII. Mr. DODSLEY to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

Dear Sir,

I AM ſorry I hurried my Eſſay out of your Hands, before you had done with it; but if I think of publiſhing my Fables next October or November, it is high Time I ſhould put both to Preſs now, that the Printer may have good Weather to print in, and that the Work may have Time to dry, after it is finiſhed, before the Books are bound. But as it [104] happens, I cannot begin till the latter End of this Month, as the Printer is not at Leiſure; however, I have put my Plates in Hand, and they are going on as faſt as poſſible. I never received Mr. ALCOCK's Drawings; ſo I have got two others executed, of ſomewhat a different Deſign. I will not put the Eſſay in Hand till the laſt, which may, perhaps, be about July, as I ſhall be very deſirous of its having the Advantage of your Corrections. But am I not to hope for a new Fable or two from you? You ſee how I dwindle in my Expectations: but pray don't let me be quite diſappointed. I propoſe, if poſſible, to finiſh the Printing of my Fables before I ſet out on my northern Expedition. Mr. M—, and his Lady, will be at Nottingham about the latter End of Auguſt; they have wiſhed I would meet them there, and in their Return to Town, bring them round by the Leaſowes. Mr. BURKE* has alſo a ſtrong Inclination to meet us there; ſo that poſſibly we may be happy enough to ſpend a Day with you; another muſt be ſpent at Lord LYTTELTON's, (as they are both acquainted [105] with him) and a third at Birmingham. I ſhall hate the Name of D— as long as I live: he is crooked in all his Ways; but the Devil will ſet ſtrait with him one Day or other. I have not ſeen a Page of Mr. PERCY's Novel, and therefore cannot at all explain it to you; but I ſuppoſe he makes no Secret of it. I wiſh Mr. GRAVES would finiſh his.—And will you really conſent to an Exchange of Pictures? Upon my Word, you make but a ſorry Bargain for yourſelf: however, to give you as little Reaſon as may be to regret your Compliance, I will ſit to one of our beſt Artiſts; and to ſupply the Want of Merit in the Original, will endeavour to give as much as I can to the Copy. If you have any Thing to ſuggeſt on this Subject, (as you ſeem to hint) you will be ſo good as to let me have a Line, becauſe, as ſoon as I am able to get abroad, which I hope will be in a few Days, I intend to conſult with REYNOLDS* about it. Ay, I forgot to tell you, that I have been confined this Month with the Gout; every Man has his D—N; that is mine. I am glad your [106] Likeneſs is a ſtrong one; and I think the Attitude, you are drawn in, is a good one: pray, is that the Picture you intend for me? The Writer of Triſtram Shandy is a Mr. STERNE, one of the Prebendaries of York. As to Mr. BASKERVILLE's Bible, he will eaſily be diſſuaded from the marginal Ornaments; but the Title-Page is a Favourite, and for my Part, I have not much Objection to it. Mr. WEBB's Book, on Painting and Painters, is reckoned ingenious, and if you like the Subject, will be worth your Peruſal. Antient and Modern Rome, I alſo think a good Poem. My Compliments to Mr. HYLTON, and all Friends.

I am ever, Dear Sir,
moſt faithfully yours, R. DODSLEY.

LETTER XXXIII. Mr. DODSLEY to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[107]
Dear Mr. SHENSTONE,

I WAS yeſterday ſearching for Figures for your two Niches—I have found three Pair, the Figures good, that will do as to Size, viz. the ANTINOUS I mentioned, and the APOLLO with his Arm over his Head; a FLORA and a CERES; and a HOMER and VIRGIL. The ANTINOUS and APOLLO are two Feet high, FLORA and CERES twenty-three Inches, and HOMER and VIRGIL twenty-one. Theſe laſt are each of them leaning upon a Pedeſtal; on one of which, in Baſſo Relievo, is Troy in Flames; on the other, ROMULUS and REMUS ſucking a Wolf. Theſe are both pretty Figures; and don't you think them better Ornaments for a Library, and more ſuitable Companions for SAPPHO, than either of the others? A Line by the Return of the Poſt, will juſt give me Time to get which of them you chooſe [108] finiſhed, and ſent to you, before I ſet off for Nottingham, for I find I muſt go thither before I come to the Leaſowes; but I ſhall ſtay only a few Days. I had a Letter from my Friend Mr. M—, by the laſt Poſt, who is at Nottingham, and I find him wavering in his Reſolutions, about coming by the Leaſowes. I am glad you like my Deſign for the Picture: and how agreeably you have contrived to flatter me about it! But ſay what you will, I ſhall have a Picture of Mr. SHENSTONE; you will have one only of DODSLEY; and a SHENSTONE by ALCOCK, will certainly be more valuable than a DODSLEY even by REYNOLDS. I read to him that Part of your Letter which related to him; he deſires his Compliments, and would be glad, if you came to Town, that you ſate to him. I hope I ſhall be able to ſend the Picture to you, before I ſet out on my Journey; but it is not yet finiſhed.

I am, affectionately yours, R. DODSLEY.

LETTER XXXIV. Mr. DODSLEY to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[109]
Dear Mr. SHENSTONE,

HOW much am I obliged to you for the Pains you have taken in tranſlating LA MOTTE's Diſcourſe on Fable! and though I fancy you will find, upon comparing the two, that I have made a good Deal of Uſe of it, I ſhall be very glad to have more of it interwoven, if you ſhall think I have not ſufficiently extracted the Eſſence of it. I muſt muſt own, my Pride (or call it my Folly, if you pleaſe) would rather chooſe to prefix ſomewhat of my own on that Subject, than ſervilely adopt the Thoughts of a Frenchman, though I acknowledge them to be very ingenious. Beſides, I have had the Hardineſs to differ with him in ſome Reſpects, which makes it ſtill more improper to take his whole Diſcourſe. Proceed, therefore, if you pleaſe, in correcting my Eſſay; and interweave with it as much [110] more of LA MOTTE as you may think proper. If you defer this till I come down, which I wiſh you would not, pray in the mean Time think of half a Dozen new Fables, that we may not have too much to embarraſs us when together. My Face is quite finiſhed, and I believe very like. I fancy I ſhall ſend it, together with the Figures, on Monday Se'ennight; but I ſhall not be able to ſet out myſelf till Monday Fortnight, and ſtaying a Week or ten Days at Nottingham and Mansfield, will detain me from the Leaſowes till the latter End of next Month. If the Picture ſhould be turned yellowiſh, by being packed up, Mr. REYNOLDS adviſes, that it be ſet in the Sun for two Hours, which will quite recover it. Why did you leave the Choice of your two Figures to me? How could you put me under ſuch a Difficulty? If I have done wrong, you will ſuffer for it; and ſay what you will, I have not ſufficient Firmneſs of Taſte to direct me right; beſides, I do not exactly remember the Niches: it is therefore your Fault to truſt me; and if I have erred, your Duty to forgive me. I have ordered the HOMER and VIRGIL to be bronzed: they are very pretty [111] Figures; and if you have, as you ſay, no other Objection to them, but the Want of two or three Inches more of Height, I hope ſome Means may be found to obviate ſo ſmall a Deficiency. I ſhould not, however, have ventured to ſend them, but that you ſeemed, at laſt, to acquieſce in their being ſent. I think, however, I have been ſomewhat happy in my Urns; and I am not without Hopes, that you will approve the whole Cargo. The Folio-VIRGIL will come in the ſame Package. I feel myſelf very happy in the Thoughts of ſeeing you ſoon, and will haſten the Day as much as is in my Power. I hope Mr. BASKERVILLE will be quite ready for me; I ſhall ſend him the Paper in a Fortnight. I am

faithfully yours, R. DODSLEY.

LETTER XXXV. Mr. DODSLEY to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq.

[112]
Dear Sir,

YOUR Picture really affords me many pleaſing Reflections, and I have ordered the Frame to be full gilt, whilſt I am out of Town, that it may not give you any unpleaſing ones. I am going to Derby and Nottingham for three Weeks or a Month: I can't ſtay longer, as I muſt attend to the Preſs, having put my Fables in Hand for a new Edition. I have laſt Monday ſent you PERCY's Novel; I ſent it unbound, as we had not Time to bind it: it will not be publiſhed till the Beginning of next Winter. I have ſent you the Fables, bound in Morocco, and the common Edition in Boards, for your future Corrections: but I would not have you begin till you ſee the next Edition, as I hope you will find it altered ſomewhat for the better; I will ſend you one of them as ſoon as it is printed. [113] You will find, likewiſe, in the Parcel, SOAME JENNYNS's Works, and a Pamphlet or two; alſo the Fables, with your Drawings in them, many of which I like extremely; that at the Head of the ſecond I approve the leaſt: but thoſe that are placed in the Life, I think ſhould be transferred to the Head and Tail-Pieces of the Fables—but there will be Time enough to talk of this hereafter. As to Italics, I believe I ſhall ſteer a middle Courſe, and make Uſe only of a few. I ſend you a Liſt of ſome Statues, about the ſame Size with that Pair you have;

  • DEMOSTHENES and CICERO,
  • LOCKE and NEWTON,
  • CHAUCER and SPENCER,
  • SHAKESPEARE and MILTON.

When you have fixed upon which Pair you will have, you will let me know whether you will have them white or bronzed, and what Kind of a Bronze.

I really don't know how to appeaſe Mr. W—. I told him, I was very ſorry I had pretended to meddle with his Ode, and begged [114] his Pardon. He is ſtill unappeaſed, writes me another angry Letter, and deſires me to give him my Reaſons for every Alteration; this it is impoſſible for me to do, as I have forgot how it originally was; and I really think it of very little Conſequence, as no Name appears to it.

Mr. STUART is juſt now with me, and deſires his Compliments. He thinks of ſeeing your Place the latter End of the Summer, and believes the Attorney-General, Mr. PRATT, will be with him. I have juſt been ſtruck with the bad News, that Mr. — has loſt his Wife. You will perceive I write in a Hurry; Mr. STUART ſits by me.

I am ever affectionately yours, R. DODSLEY.

LETTER XXXVI. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to Mr. HULL, at Birmingham.

[115]

I DESIRE my Compliments to Mr. HULL and Miſs MORRISON, with many Thanks for the Pleaſure I received from laſt Night's Play.* It was, indeed, acted with great Spirit, and as far as I could judge, afforded the Audience no ſmall Satisfaction—not, perhaps, equal to what they derived from the Appearance of the Dun Cow, &c. for that is hardly to be expected.

I think the Play has now ſo much good in it, that it may be worth Mr. HULL's while [116] to give it a few more finiſhing Touches. Suppoſe a Confeſſor or Friar, either out of Hatred to the Queen, view to his own Advancement, or any ſelfiſh Motive (which he might explain in a ſhort Soliloquy) perſuaded ROSAMOND to aſpire to the Throne, and to urge the King to a Divorce; that ROSAMOND ſhould avow her Abhorrence of ſuch Injuſtice to the Queen, intimating, that her Love had no other Object than the King's Perſon and heroic Virtues; that this Refuſal ſhould affront the Friar, who in Revenge ſhould inform the Queen, that ROSAMOND actually had thoſe very Intentions with which he had been endeavouring to inſpire her, &c. This would throw more Plot into the Play, (which it wants) would more ſufficiently account for the Queen's ſudden Change from a mild Character to a revengeful one, and, as Mr. HULL thinks the Play too ſhort, would add two new Scenes. Some further Improvements I would recommend in the Cloſe, and a few more Places; but Mr. HULL's further Attention to the Play, will render it needleſs to point them out to him.

If you ſhould ever complete this Undertaking to your Liking, and produce the Piece [117] on a London-Stage, I would recommend, that you ſhould by all Means give it a double Title in the printed Bills; namely, HENRY the Second, or the Fall of ROSAMOND.

I ſhould eſteem it as a Favour, if Mr. HULL would ſend me down a Copy of the Prologue and Epilogue as they were ſpoken; which I will not communicate without his Permiſſion. Either his or Miſs MORRISON's Muſe ſeems to favour them at a Minute's Warning.

Mr. HODGETTS, with whom I am at preſent, would be glad that Mr. HULL would dine here, about two; and ſo ſhould I, if it be no way inconvenient to him.

I had almoſt forgot to thank you for the Stanzas you left at the Leaſowes, when I was on a Viſit to Hagley. They are well conſtructed for the Occaſion, and the Idea ſeems to ariſe from humane Senſibility, warmed with honeſt Indignation.

I am very affectionately yours, W. SHENSTONE.
[118]

STANZAS (Alluded to in the foregoing Letter)
Written underneath the Monument on Landſdown, near Bath, which was erected by the late Lord LANDSDOWN, to perpetuate the noble Exploits and Death of his Grandfather, Sir BEVILLE GRANVILLE, who was ſlain on the Spot, in the civil Wars, in the Reign of CHARLES I.

Dignum laude virum
Muſa vetat mori.
HOR.
AH! What avail'd the ſtately Pile,
The Baſe ſo eminently plac'd,
If now a Prey to conqu'ring Time,
Or barb'rous Hands, it ſhews defac'd!
In vain the poliſh'd LANSDOWNE rais'd,
And grac'd the monumental Stone,
If what the Muſe recorded there
To future Time ſhall be unknown;
The ſculptur'd Heraldry deſtroy'd,
That ſpoke his noble Anceſtry;
[119]The Verſe effac'd, that aim'd to give
The Soldier Immortality.*
And ſcarce one Trophy now remains
The great Memorial to ſupply,
To grace with decent Pride the Sod
Where GRANVILLE's hallow'd Aſhes lie.
And doth no living GRANVILLE now
His Blood from BEVIL's Veins derive,
Who will this injur'd Baſe repair,
And bid the Muſe's Record live?
Come then, (in Bravery allied,
Tho' not in Blood) ye Sons of Fame;
Ye, who in Feats of Arms have ſhone,
And thence revere a Soldier's Name;
And ye, bright Sons of genuine Taſte,
Who honour LANSDOWN's poliſh'd Song,
In ſacred Sympathy unite,
And round this ruin'd Trophy throng;
[120]
Haſte, haſte, the Structure to repair,
Haſte, the Eulogium to ſupply;
Oh! as ye wiſh your Names ſhould live,
And your good Deeds ſhould never die.
*
Alluding to two poetical Inſcriptions; the one by WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT, the other by MARTIN LLEWELLIN, in the Year 1643.

LETTER XXXVII. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to Mr. HULL, at Covent-Garden Theatre, London.

Dear Mr. HULL,

IF I recollect aright, both you and NED ALCOCK were here this laſt Autumn, on the Evening when my Fiſh-Ponds had been robbed, and the Fiſh deſtroyed. You were an Eye-Witneſs of the Circumſtances, therefore cannot but retain them in your Memory. I find I have been arraigned of Lenity, by ſeveral conſcientiouſly-upright Neighbours. ‘"I have ſcreened a Robber from Juſtice;"—"I have given Encouragement to future Thefts," &c. Such are the Aſperſions wherewith I have [121] been loaded. I make a material Diſtinction between a Robber and a Pilferer; nor can I aſſign the former Appellation to a poor Wretch, who, in his Hunger, has taken two or three Fiſhes, or as many Loaves. It is true, I would rather have given more than the Value of them, to have prevented my finny Friends being diſturbed in, or taken away, from their elemental Habitation; it is alſo as true, that, in my firſt Warmth, on the Report that the Fellow had bruiſed the poor Creatures to Death againſt the Stumps and Roots of Trees, I could not only have delivered him over to Juſtice, but have been almoſt induced to become myſelf his Puniſher; but when that Warmth ſubmitted to cool Reflection, I felt it impoſſible to reſiſt his Argument, of having a Wife with five Children at Home, and not a Doit to procure them a Meal. I verily believe too he ſpoke the Truth. Poverty and Affliction ſeemed to work and plead within him, and his Words were the Words of Nature.

I cannot be ſo ſevere againſt theſe petty Miſdemeanours as many are; nor can I, though I revere the Call of Juſtice, be a rigorous [122] Supporter of its Claims, except in atrocious Caſes. Beſide, what had it availed me, to have conſigned the Offender to the Power of a Magiſtrate? Rather ſay, what Pain and Inconvenience ſhould I not have entailed on myſelf? I ſhould have had the Trouble of attending the Examination; have had the Fellow impriſoned many Days; and the additional Mortification of travelling, perhaps to Warwick, or Worceſter, in order to convict him. And after all, no Reſtitution is made for my Loſs, though it were ten Times more valuable than a whole Draught of Fiſhes. There is ſurely ſomething deficient in our Laws, concerning the Meum & Tuum; the Perſon robbed not only abides the Loſs without Amends, but is even put to Expence, as well as Inconvenience, to get the Robber puniſhed.

Then again, the Wife and five Children!—The poor Fellow ſubſiſts, chief Part of the Year, only by carrying News-Papers round the Country. Had He been ſhut up, what was to have ſupported the ragged Family meanwhile? I am beſide inclined to think, that half a Crown, and a little wholeſome Admonition, [123] that is, if he be not a practiſed and ſtubborn Offender, might go as far towards amending his Morals, as an Acquaintance with the Inſide of a Priſon, and the Converſation of ſuch Aſſociates as he might find there.

I have ſuffered myſelf ſometimes to doubt the Excellence of our Laws, relative to Life and Death, notwithſtanding I know it has been aſſerted by many People, that they are wiſer than thoſe of any other Nation. What then? Is the Man who takes a few Guineas from you on the Highway, on a Level with him who commits a deliberate Murder? And is there no Puniſhment to be found more adequate to the firſt Tranſgreſſion, than taking away the Life? Surely, one Example made by a viſible Brand, a Mark of Diſgrace, which could never be waſhed away, would more avail towards the Prevention of future Crimes, than half the Executions in the Kingdom, which have now, from two great Frequency, loſt the chief Part of their Purpoſe and Terror. The Puniſhment which was inflicted by a Regent in ſome Part of the Eaſt, (I think the Circumſtance is related in the Arabian Nights Entertainments) [124] on a Judge who had been induced, by Gold, to give an unjuſt Deciſion, is admirable. The Brand, placed on his Habitation, in legible Characters, ‘"Here lives a corrupt Judge,"’ was, in the higheſt Degree, conſonant to Juſtice, inaſmuch as it made the Crime its own Puniſhment.

I have been led into theſe Reflections by finding how ſeverely I have been arraigned, only for having been an innocent Defrauder of the Law: ſo have troubled you with them; but here I come to a Concluſion. You are at Liberty to draw what Inferences you pleaſe from, or make what Objections you like to, my Opinion.

I am now to thank you for the Anecdotes you have given me, as well as for the Peruſal of the encloſed Ballad. I am particularly pleaſed with the Image,

"Appear they not as drizling Dews
Freſh'ning ſome faded Flower?"
I am, dear Sir,
very faithfully, Your Friend and Servant, W. SHENSTONE.
[125]

THE BITTER FRUITES OF JEALOUSIE: A BALLADE, IN THE AUNTIENT STYLE.

"GOE, ſhutte the Doore, my EDWARDE deere,
"Shutte cloſe the Doore, I praye;
"Lette nae keene Searche my Treadinge trace,
"Ne liſtene what I ſaie;
"Lette nane my ſubtle Entraunce knowe,
"My troubled Motion ſpie,
"Ne ſmalleſt Sunne-Beame penetrate
"The Tell-Tale of mine Eye."
[126]
So ALLEYNE ſpake, as Guilt-beſtain'd
Some Nooke he did explore,
When Inſtincte ledde his pathleſſe Foote
To EDWARDE's friendlie Doore.
'Tween horrid Dreede, and conſcious Shame,
Fu' mightie was the Strife,
While from his now-enfeebled Hands
Downe dropp'd a reekinge Knife.
What means that Steele? What means that Glow,
Wherewith thy Viſage burnes?
Now ghaſtlie Pale, alack, ſucceeds,
And now the Redde returnes.
"Saye, will yee plighte your Promiſe deere,
"And wille yee plighte your Faye,
"That what I now entruſte to yee
"Your Tongue ſhall ne'er betraye?"
Yea, I wille plighte my Promiſe deere,
And I will plight my Faye,
That what yee ſhall entruſte to mee
My Tongue ſhall ne'er betraye.
[127]
"Ah! was ſhee not the faireſt Faire,
"More deere than Life to mee?
"Yet ne'er ſhalle I againe beholde
"My LUCIE ſweete to ſee."
Yea, ſhe was faireſt of the Faire,
Deere as thy Life to thee—
And haſt thou ſcath'd with deadlie Stroke
Thy LUCIE ſweete to ſee?
"Wae worthe the Daye!—That verie Wreathe,
"Which with a lovinge Vowe
"This Morne I gave her, I behelde,
"Ere Noone, on EDWIN's Brow.
"When as ſhee tooke it ſweete ſhe ſmil'd,
"Yet could ſhee from it parte?
"Sae proude, methought, hee taunted mee,
"Fu' deepe it irk'd my Hearte.
"And irk'd be ſtille this cruel Hearte!—
"Oh! had yee ſeene the Wounde,
"And had yee ſeene the ſtreaminge Blude,
"How faſte it ſtain'd the Grounde!
[128]
"And had yee ſeene her ſickninge Eye,
"How ſore it ſoughte Reliefe!
"And had yee ſeene her Bodie ſinke,
"You woulde have dyed for Griefe!
"And irk'd be ſtille this cruel Hearte,
"When as ſhee there did lye,
"That coulde not with my LUCIE deere
"A Moment ſtaye, and dye!"
ALLEYNE, my Friend, yee grieve my Soule,
Your Flighte, I weene, was juſt,
Sine ſhee is gone, that faireſt Faire,
And ſunken into Duſte.
But who alonge yon Cypreſſe-Pathe
Is ledde ſae heavilie?
Ah! mee! my ALLEYNE deere, it is—
How ſadde ſhee eyeth thee!
And, ah! how ſadde yon Virgins looke,
Who leade her to my Boure?
Appear they not as drizlinge Dewes,
Freſhninge ſome faded Floure?
[129]
With ſuch a Looke as Mothers aft
Rebuke a darlinge Childe,
Sae eyed ſhee her ALLEYNE deere,
Sae ruthe, ſae ſweete, ſae milde!
'I marvelle not,' ſhee faintlie cried,
'Yee ſeeme a Manne of Stone!—
'The Welle of Life is nae yet drie,
'My Daies are nae yet done.
'Sette, ſette your troubled Minde at Eaſe,
'My Hearte yee didde nae touche;
'Yee ſtrooke too ſhorte to reache my Life,
'Whereat I gladdene muche.
'Could yee, ſuch Vowes as I have vow'd,
'Deeme I coulde faithleſſe bee?—
'The Bloſſome to the Breathe of Springe
'Was ſcant ſae true as mee.
'That Wreathe, which yee this Morne did ſee
'Sae trimme on EDWYN's Browe,
'EDWYN's ain ſpitefu' Hande had wroughte,
'And EDWIN weares it nowe.
[130]
'When Love yee breathe, yee fickle Menne
'Been ſmoothe as Summer-Wave;
'But when with Jealouſie yee ſwelle,
'As Winter-Storme yee rave.
'Raſhe Manne! ah! how by Jealouſie
'Have yee your Fortunes croſte!
'As true a Maide as ever lov'd
'Yee have for ever loſte.
'To hie to this your Friend's Abode,
'Here breathe my Prayres for yee,
'For Life, for Healthe, for Eaſe of Minde,
'Was a' was left for mee.'
Can yee not pardon the high Faulte
Which Love didde gar mee doe?
'Yes, I canne pardon a' the Faulte,
'And ſtille to Love be true.'
And ſhalle the Bridal-Knotte be tyed,
And ſhalle wee happie bee?
'The Bridal-Knotte canne ne'er be tyed,
'Ne canne I ſtaye with thee;
[131]
'For I to CHRISTE a Vowe have made,
'And kepte that Vowe ſhalle bee,
'That Manne naie mair ſhalle vexe my Hearte,
'Nae mair ſhalle trouble mee.
'That ſtraite I wille myſel betake
'Unto a Nunnerie,
'In Faſte and Prayre to ende my Dayes,
'And kepte that Vowe ſhalle bee.
'Go yee, and ſeeke a fairer Bride,
'And live in Pleaſaunce gaye,
'While to the Houſe of Godlineſſe
'I take myſel awaye.'
Naye, doe nae wende yee quite awaye,
Liſte, liſte, my piercinge Ca'!
Returne! and for youre broken Vowe,
On mee the Paine be a'!
"She's gane."—He heav'd a deepe-drawne Sighe,
As braſt his Hearte in twaine,
Sine to the Ground faſt-falled he,
And never roſe againe.
THE ENDE.

LETTER XXXVIII. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to Mr. HULL.

[132]
Dear Mr. HULL,

I ESTEEM myſelf beholden to you, for having made me acquainted with the Reality of the two Writers, Dr. LANCASTER and HENRY. I have admired them both in their Pages, but knew only their Names. In fact, when I firſt read the Eſſay on Delicacy, I imagined the Name of LANCASTER to be fictitious, and that the Work might be the Production of the Author of Sir Thomas Fitz-Oſhorne's Letters. There is great Spirit, fine Sentiment, and true Elegance of Style throughout; and my Friend DODSLEY's preſerving it in his Fugitive Pieces is truly meritorious. It well deſerves to be reſcued from Oblivion. But what a Pity that your Uncle does not make a more frequent Uſe of his Pen! the World does not abound too much in ſuch Writers. [133] How much likewiſe is it to be lamented, that a Man of ſuch Abilities ſhould lie concealed in an obſcure Part of Eſſex! He ſhould have remained in the World—that is, I mean, for the Sake of the World; to his own Happineſs, probably, Retirement was moſt conducive. It is moſt certain, that no Men are fit for Solitude, but thoſe who find the Source of Amuſement and Employment in themſelves. Fancy, Reflection, and a Love of Reading, are indiſpenſably neceſſary for ſuch a Situation. It is downright Lunacy for a Man who has paſſed his Life in a Compting-Houſe, or a Shop; who poſſeſſes, poſſibly, but a moderate Share of natural Underſtanding, that Underſtanding too not cultivated by Education, and who has never known what it is was to look into a Book—It is, I repeat, downright Lunacy, for ſuch a Man to think of retiring. He knows not, the Fatigue he is going to encounter: he will want Employment for his Hours; moſt probably, may ſhorten his Exiſtence, and while he retains it, it will be one continued State of Apathy, if not Diſorder.

[134]HENRY, you ſay, is a Mr. GRIFFITH, of the County of Kilkenny in Ireland. A Friend brought me over the Letters of HENRY and FRANCES, when they were firſt publiſhed in Dublin; they are moſt admirably clever and comprehenſive; I have enjoyed and re-enjoyed them; and while I have admired the Writings, have loved the Writers. In the private Character you have given me of this amiable Pair, I feel as if I were acquainted with them. Before the Information received from you, I have ſometimes ſuffered myſelf to think, and even communicated to an intimate Friend or two, that there was a Similitude of Diſpoſition between HENRY and myſelf; but when I look on your Deſcription of him, I entertain much Doubt. In the active Parts of his Philoſophy, his Perſeverance, and Reſolution, I fear I am far behind him. He is a Man qualified for any State or Situation; Buſineſs or Amuſement, Solitude or a Crowd.—And you have ſpent Months with him at Kilkenny!—I give you Joy of ſuch an Happineſs.

[135]Again I thank you for the Encloſures you are ever and anon ſending, and am,

Dear Mr. HULL,
yours very affectionately, W. SHENSTONE.

LETTER XXXIX. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to Mr. HULL, at Covent-Garden Theatre.

SIR,

I AM greatly obliged both to you and Miſs MORRISON, for the Ballads you were ſo good as to incloſe to me. The Speed you have uſed in ſending them, teſtifies the Reality of that Delight you ſeemed to expreſs at the Leaſowes, when I firſt communicated my Friend Dr. PERCY's Deſign. I ſent them directly [136] to him; he has begun to print off his venerable Collection,* with an Eye to the Publication of it ſometime next Winter. One of your Ballads is truly beautily and extremely proper for his Purpoſe. It has that Naiveté, which is ſo very eſſential in Ballads of all Kind; and which requires no more than, that ſublime, or elegant, or tender Sentiments be expreſſed in a ſimple and unaffected Manner—Sentimental Language would be no ill Term for it; or, perhaps, the Eſſay before DODSLEY's Fables does not improperly ſtile it, the Voice of Sentiment, in Oppoſition to the Language of Reflection.

As to the other, Miſs M— well diſtinguiſhes, that the Merit of it is almoſt wholly confined to the Sentiment at laſt. This is both natural and tender; and would ſhe take the Pains to new-write the whole on this Account, (for even this Sentiment is not expreſſed ſo very ſimply as one could wiſh it) I dare ſay it is in her Power to render it very pleaſing. [137] I know not how far I am ſingular; but as I love to avail myſelf of different Words, to bundle up Ideas in different Parcels, it is become habitual to me, to call that a Ballad which deſcribes or implies ſome Action; on the other Hand, I term that a Song, which contains only an Expreſſion of Sentiment. According to this Account, I believe one of your Pieces would appear a Ballad, and the other a Song.

The Play-Houſe Coronations anſwer the Purpoſe of all thoſe who chuſe to compound the Matter betwixt Indolence and Curioſity. Mr. GARRICK has given a very genteel Turn to this Taſte among the Citizens, in his Epilogue to the new Play.* I have not yet ſeen this Performance; and ſhould be glad if you would give me ſome Account of its Appearance on the Stage. Why does not your Dr. LANCASTER compleat his Eſſay upon Delicacy? I read it, ſince I wrote laſt, in DODSLEY's Fugitive [138] Pieces, and think it mighty well deſerves the Labour neceſſary to its Continuation.

'Tis true, that Specimens of Wit or Humour have been diſpenſed this Winter but ſparingly from the Preſs; and even there in political Pamphlets, where I am leaſt inclined to ſeek them. But we muſt ſwim with the Tide, if we would collect the Shells and Corals that it leaves behind; accordingly I have read two or three of theſe Pamphlets which have anſwered my Expectations. Should any other appear that ſtrikes you, be ſo good as to encloſe it to me in a Frank. As to Lavinia, or other dramatic Schemes, I muſt defer them till I ſee you again at the Leaſowes, which whenever it happens, will afford me Pleaſure, being very faithfully and affectionately

your moſt obedient Servant, W. SHENSTONE.
[139]

BALLAD I. Referred to in the above Letter.

THE Bells they rang all in the Morn,
And ALLEN he roſe full ſoon,
Sad Tydings were heard for ALLEN to hear,
That MARY would wed 'ere Noon.
Then ALLEN he call'd on THOMAS's Name,
And THOMAS came at his call;
"Make ready a Coffin and winding Shroud,
"For MARY ſhall ſee my Fall.
"When laſt we parted with brimful Eye,
"Right-loving ſhe made a Vow;
"But RICHARD has twice as many Sheep,
"And MARY forgets me now.
"Then bear me to the Green-Graſs-Bank,
"Where we did kiſs and play,
"And tell her the Rain that made it ſo green,
"Has waſh'd my Kiſſes away."
[140]
The Bridegroom led the Bride ſo fair,
The Prieſt he came anon;
But THOMAS he brought his dear Friend's Corſe,
Or 'ere the Wedding was done.
He laid him on the Green-Graſs-Bank,
Where they did kiſs and play,
And told her, the Rain that made it ſo green,
Had waſh'd his Kiſſes away.
When ſhe beheld poor ALLEN's dead Corſe,
Her maiden Bluſh was loſt,
She faded, as tho' on April Morn
A Primroſe nipt by a froſt.
Then all beneath one fatal Stone
Together they buried were.
Falſe Maidens, who break your plighted Vow,
Take heed ye come not there!

BALLAD II. Referred to in the foregoing Letter.

[141]
ONE April Ev'ning, when the Sun
Had journey'd down the Sky,
Sad MARIAN, with Looks of Woe,
Walk'd forth full heavily.
Tears trickled down her faded Cheek,
Soft Sighs her Boſom heav'd;
Soft Sighs reveal'd her inward Woe;
Alas! ſhe'd been deceiv'd.
"Oh! what a Wretch am I become,
"A luckleſs Laſs, (ſaid ſhe)
"The Cowſlip, and the Violet blue,
"Have now no Charms for me.
"The golden Sun that daily ſhines,
"And glitt'ring decks the Sky,
"Brings no Relief to my Diſtreſs,
"Or Pleaſure to my Eye.
[142]
"This little River when I dreſs'd
"Has ſerv'd me for a Glaſs;
"But now it only ſhews how Love
"Has ruin'd this poor Face.
"What Charms could happy LUCY boaſt,
"To fix thy wav'ring Mind?
"What Charms in LUCY more than me,
"Ungrateful, couldſt thou find?
"Haſt thou forgot the tender Vows
"Which at my Feet were made?
"Yet I'll not ſpend my dying Hour
"Thy falſehood to upbraid.
"But what remaining Breath I have
"Shall intercede with Heav'n;
"That all thoſe broken Vows to me,
"At laſt may be forgiv'n.
"Yet one poor Boon before I die,
"I would of thee require;
"And do not thou refuſe to grant
"A Wretch's laſt Deſire!
[143]
"When you with LUCY ſhall affix
"The happy Marriage-Day,
"Oh! do not o'er my Green-Graſs-Grave
"Inhuman take thy Way."

LETTER XL. W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. to Miſs M—.

Dear Miſs M—,

I OUGHT to have returned Thanks for your agreeable Account of the Excurſion to Chepſtow, ſome Time ago; but theſe are Duties which I do not always perform ſo ſoon as I ought—you know I don't—Neither will I waſte my Time and Paper in apologizing for a Failing which you are ſo ready to forgive, [144] convinced that I am not leſs grateful on that Account.

I have great Joy in reading theſe little pleaſurable Travels, in a private Letter, related, as yours are, without Formality, deſcribing, with Eaſe and Simplicity, every little Occurrence as it falls out. I can journey with you in Imagination, and partake every trivial Difficulty and every Delight. You are fond of theſe little Parties of Pleaſure, as they are called, and in you it is, by no Means, reprovable; but in general, they are very dangerous to young Folks. You have Means and Time, at your own Diſpoſal; your Party is ſmall and ſelect, both in Point of Reputation and Underſtanding; you likewiſe turn your Excurſion to ſome Advantage; you make Obſervations on all you ſee, form nice Diſtinctions between different Places, Points, and Characters, and draw juſt Concluſions from them—But, as I ſaid before, theſe Parties too often are hazardous; the Mind once indulged in them, is apt to covet them too often; they are ſometimes the Means of drawing a Female into improper Company; they encroach on [145] Means and Time, neither of which, probably, can with Propriety be beſtowed; they have their Source in Diſſipation, are continually attended with Hazard, and too often end in the Worſt of Miſchiefs. In ſhort, I would wiſh all young Folks, who have neither Leiſure nor Money at Command, to ſhut their Ears againſt the very Name of a Party of Pleaſure.

More than once in my Life, I have been ſolicited by Friends to viſit foreign Climes. I had an Invitation of this Kind lately; but it is now too late; at leaſt, I think ſo—Beſides, why ſhould a Man go ſo far for Objects of Curioſity, who has ſeen too little of his own Country? Many Parts of England, Wales and Scotland equally (I ſhould think) deſerve our Admiration, and we need not riſque Winds and Waves, to which I feel ſome Objection. Numbers of our travelling Gentry peregrinate too early in Life, before the Mind is ſufficiently formed to make proper Obſervations on what they ſee and hear.

A Friend once related an Anecdote, which is appoſite to my Subject. A very young [146] Man, of good natural Underſtanding, and Heir to an affluent Fortune, would needs be one of theſe inconſiderate Travellers. In the Courſe of his Adventures, he fell into Company, in Naples, with ſome well-travelled, and well-informed Foreigners. They were converſing on what they had ſeen in England; and ſome little Difference in Opinion ariſing about the Architecture of Windſor-Caſtle, they naturally referred themſelves to the young Engliſhman for Deciſion. With much Confuſion and Heſitation he was compelled to confeſs, he had never ſeen the Building in Queſtion. The Company, with true foreign Politeneſs, only teſtified their Admiration in a ſilent Smile—but the Reflection inſtantly ſtruck, and pained the young Gentleman. The Reſult was, that he returned for England within two Days, rationally determined to inſtruct himſelf in the Knowledge of his own Country, before he pryed into thoſe afar off. His Reflection and Determination did equal Credit to his Underſtanding.

Our Friend HULL has, as uſual, been amuſing us with as good a Drama, as our neighbouring Town can give Encouragement to; [147] but ſays, he returns no more. I know many who will be ſorry on this Account. He has not departed, however, without having excited Curioſity in a very peculiar Way; on a ſmall Plan, indeed, but to a very commendable Purpoſe. He enticed with him his two principal Actreſſes, Miſs MORRISON and Miſs IBBOT, (both poſſeſſed of great Merit in their Profeſſion) ſome few of his Band, two Voices, and gave an Evening's Entertainment of Singing and Reading, at the little Town of Stourbridge, ſome few Miles off; the Profits devoted to the Aſſiſtance of a Tradeſman, who had ſuffered under repeated Misfortunes. The Succeſs, I hear, more than anſwered his Expectations; the little Aſſembly-Room was crouded, and with much good Company. A ſlight Cold made me fearful of being out late, but the Particulars were given me by a neighbouring Clergyman who was preſent. The Pieces ſelected for Reading were well-choſen. I do not remember the whole Number, but I recollect that Miſs CARTER's Ode to Wiſdom, PRIOR's Henry and Emma, and GRAY's Elegy in a Country Church-Yard were amongſt them. The latter gave particular Satisfaction, my [148] Friend told me, to the Gentlemen of the Pulpit, of whom he counted ſeven. The whole was received with great Approbation. You are to obſerve that HULL and his Party, ſo far from propoſing any Emolument to themſelves, declined even to be re-imburſed the Expences they were at in going, and the Maſter of the Aſſembly-Room gave the Uſe of it. From this confined Inſtance of ſuch a Scheme, I am apt to think an Union of Poetry and Muſic, executed on a larger Plan, would be an admirable Two-Hours-Entertainment, either in a public Room or private Family.

I encloſe a Piece of Writing, which a Friend of mine ſent me in a Frank laſt Week. I think the Subject calculated for your Liking. It was planned, and partly written, in Mr. HOARE's lovely Grounds, at Stourton in Wiltſhire; and the Thought ſuggeſted by ſurveying, from an Eminence there, a woody Vale, wherein ALFRED is reported to have once concealed himſelf from the Danes. Send it back, when you have done with it.

Adieu, dear Miſs M—.
Yours very faithfully, W. SHENSTONE.
[149]

CADWAL: A LEGENDARY TALE; IN TWO PARTS.

PART I.

DARK December was the Month,
The Air was dank and chill,
When CADWAL's weary Foot had reach'd
The Summit of the Hill,
Beneath whoſe ample Verge he wont
To labour at the Plough,
And, to relieve his Father's Age,
Bedew his infant Brow.
[150]
When eighteen Years had o'er him paſs'd,
He left his ruſtic Home,
(Sore-ſmote with Grief) in diſtant Grounds,
And Stranger-Fields to roam.
Twelve Winters had his Exile ſeen,
When lo! his Boſom burns,
Again to claſp his Father's Knees,
And homeward he returns.
And now deſcending to the Vale,
With ſlow and trembling Feet,
At this new Sight, his native Soil,
The Pulſes flutt'ring beat.
And now, with penetrating Eye,
He pierces the cloſe Dell,
Where in his Thatch-beſhelter'd Cot
His Sire did whilom dwell.
Yet in his ſad and troubled Look,
Such Terror might ye ſee,
As when we almoſt wiſh to ſhun
The Thing, we wiſh ſhould be.
[151]
He pryed here, he pryed there,
No Cottage could he ſpy,
Nor ſmalleſt Trace of human Tread
Appeared to his Eye.
No Monarch of the feather'd Brood
Was heard aloud to crow,
Nor laboured Ox the vocal Air
Awaken with his Low.
In ſtrange Amazement and Suſpenſe
Awhile benumb'd he ſtood,
Then fell, deſpairing on the Earth,
And wept, and wail'd aloud.
His bitter Cries an Hermit drew
Forth from his lonely Cell,
Whoſe plyant Senſe was quick to feel
Affliction's poignant Yell.
Compaſſion held him mute at firſt,
While as he ponder'd him
With fixed Eye, where Nature's Floods
Up-ſwelled to the Brim;
[152]
Then thus—"My Son, your Plaints I heard,
"They ſmote me to the Heart;
"To me, without Reſerve or Fear,
"The weighty Cauſe impart.
"Deep-vers'd in Sorrow's heavy Taſk
"Full many a weary Hour,
"Right well I know what aggravates,
"And what abates its Pow'r.
"Cloſe-pent within reſtraining Bounds,
"The River foams and roars,
"Tumultuous boils with mighty Heaves,
"And wounds its kindred Shores;
"The Load remov'd, that choak'd its Courſe,
"The Violence ſubſides,
"The Tumult leſſens by Degrees,
"And ſmooth the Current glides.
"Give, then, the ſtruggling Griefs to flow,
"Which thy clogg'd Heart oppreſs,
"Each Word will take a Part away,
"And make the Burthen leſs."
[153]
Old CADWAL here diſtraught I ſeek,
Here CADWAL dwelt of yore,
Here, here, his quiet Cottage roſe,
But now is here no more.
"Old CADWAL ſeek'ſt thou? Hapleſs Man!
"New Torments muſt thou have—
"Beneath this venerable Elm,
"Behold the Ruſtic's Grave!"
Oh! I Wretch accurs'd! I was the Cauſe,
I reft him of his Breath,
I robb'd theſe Fields of CADWAL's Worth,
I brought him to his Death.
Was he not to his various Kin,
(Unworthy I alone!)
Was he not Guardian, Comforter,
Friend, Father, all in one?
What honeſt Hind, that near him toil'd,
But of his Store partook?
Was he not to the needy Swain,
As to the Mead the Brook?
[154]
Did he not deal to all around,
His Smile as well as Care?
Not ev'n the Sparrow of the Hedge,
But in his Love had Share.
And Wretch accurs'd! I was the Cauſe,
I 'reft him of his Breath,
I robb'd theſe Fields of CADWAL's Worth,
I brought him to his Death.
"Too rigidly, perchance, my Son
"Thyſelf thou doſt accuſe,
"And heapeſt on thy burthen'd Heart
"Unneceſſary Woes.
"Ah! how ſevere the Puniſhment,
"When we ourſelves arraign!
"And Hatred oft, and Malice' ſelf
"Inflict a milder Pain.
"Leſs harſhly cenſure thy Offence,
"(Some youthful Warmth, I ween!)
"And give it to mine Ears in Terms
"Soft, candid, and ſerene.
[155]
"Here on this Bank repoſe awhile,
"And bid theſe Tumults ceaſe;
"With thine I'll mix my ſocial Tears,
"And ſooth returning Peace."
Ah, Father! this thine holy Love
Embitters what I feel;
Unwittingly thou add'ſt a Sting
To Sorrows thou would'ſt heal.
Here on this Bank, what precious Hours
I've known in Days of Youth,
Liſt'ning the Precepts that he gave
Of Wiſdom and of Truth!
Here in the ſweetly-tranquil Eve,
(Day's rugged Labour done)
He'd tell how good and glorious Men
Life's arduous Race had run;
What Tides of Blood had waſh'd theſe Lands,
Which we in Peace had till'd,
And how the faithful Ruſtic once
Great ALFRED here conceal'd.
[156]
But, Oh! my Grief-bewilder'd Mind
From Reaſon wanders far,
And with vague Fancies idly mocks
Thy kind, thy pious Care.
"Heed not, my Son—Uſe any Means
"That may aſſuage thy Pain;
"It is the Privilege of Woe
"At Random to complain,
"And who of patient Sympathy
"The lib'ral Largeſs ſcant,
"With-hold a Bounty dear, I ween
"As Wealth can ſhow'r on Want.

CADWAL. PART II.

[157]
OLD CADWAL here diſtraught I ſeek
Ah, me! this wayward Heart!
That dar'd oppoſe a Father's Pow'r,
That dar'd his Counſel thwart!
But EMMA 's Charms had won my Love,
And made it all her own;
I ſought not copious Flocks and Meads,
I ſought Content alone;
And, Oh! ſo ſweetly ſhe conform'd
To all I wiſh'd or ſaid,
You would have ſworn our Hearts, as Twins,
Were for each other made.
[158]
And was it, holy Father, ſay,
Was it a Crime to Love;
Or to my early-plighted Vows
Unchang'd and ſteady prove?
MATILDA 's lofty Friends in Store
Of Fleeces did abound,
And ample Sheaves enrich'd their Fields,
And Orchards roſe around;
And theſe Poſſeſſions ev'ry Hour
Were pour'd into mine Ear;
To count them o'er, my Father made
His Morn and Ev'ning Care.
Sure if he any Failing had,
'Twas too fond Love for me;
Hence ſprung the Wiſh, that of her Flocks
I might the Maſter be;
And as he will'd, and as he bade,
Oh! that I could have done!
But EMMA 's Charms had won my Love,
And made it all her own.
[159]
Say, Father, ought I, at the Church
Have join'd MATILDA 's Hand,
When Love and Truth, that ſhould attend,
Were not at my Command?
Her ſpacious Granaries—to me
They no Allurement were;
My EMMA 's low-roof'd Dairy-Hut
To me was dearer far.
Why after large Poſſeſſions ſeek?
My Father did not want;
Of copious Tributes from the Field
His Barns were nothing ſcant;
But 'twas his Will—and Oh! that I
Could have that Will obey'd,
Without the Guilt of broken Vows,
Or EMMA 's Peace betray'd!
Now that my Frowardneſs of Heart
Hath brought him to his End,
For this, before yon hallow'd Spot
In duteous Wiſe I'll bend;
[160]
For this, will daily wet the Sod
With my repentant Eye,
Nor ever from this Solitude
To fairer Refuge hie.
"Son," quoth the Sire—and caſt a Look
As chill'd the Youth all o'er—
(While Minutes paſs'd ere vital Warmth,
His Senſes did reſtore—)
"Son," quoth the Sage, "thy Doubts ſuſpend,
"Their riſing Tumult check—
"It is thy Father, claſps thee cloſe,
"And weeps upon thy Neck.
"Long have I held thee in Diſcourſe
"With pent-up Agony,
"Now let my guſhing Tears have Way,
"They're Bleſſings ſhow'r'd on thee.
"Charm'd with thy duteous Excellence,
"Thy Strength of filial Love,
"My full Forgiveneſs, let theſe Streams
"And warm Embraces prove!
[161]
"And, Oh! might'ſt thou forgive the Cauſe
"That drove thee from thy Home,
"Sore-ſmote with Grief, in diſtant Grounds,
"And Stranger-Fields to roam!"
Might I forgive!—Oh, Father, ſuch
Unſeemly Terms reſtrain;
Might I forgive!—It is enough,
I ſee thee once again.
But, ſaid'ſt thou not, beneath yon Elm—
"My deareſt Son, I did;
"There have I mark'd the choſen Spot,
"There made my lateſt Bed.
"Of thee bereft, what booted it
"To feed the furrow'd Plain;
"Or what, from Autumn's fruitful Lap
"To heap the ripen'd Grain?
"Whom had I then to cheer my Steps
"In Summer's ſultry Rays?
"For whom ſhould then the ſocial Hearth
"In Winter-Ev'ning blaze?
[162]
"My Houſe, my Barns, I left at large
"To moulder and decay;
"Yon humble Tenement I rais'd,
"My Age's only Stay.
"Enough for me, who meant forlorn
"To paſs Life's lagging Eve;
"My Taſk to meditate and pray,
"My Puniſhment to grieve.
"For, Oh! my Son, too late I felt
"This Truth within my Heart,
"That to compel the filial Mind
"Is not a Parent's Part.
"And hence this penitential Garb,
"And hence theſe ſilver Hairs,
"Whoſe hoary Length the ſad Recluſe
"Or penſive Hermit wears."
Dear, honour'd Father, droop no more,
This on my bended Knee
I crave—I claim—Reſign thy Griefs;
Oh! caſt them all on me;
[163]
With unremitting Love and Care,
Thy Sorrows I'll aſſuage,
And with obſequious Duty tend
The Remnant of thy Age.
"Ariſe, my Son, and to my Cell
"Together let us wend;
"Let us beneath one Roof embrace,
"Ere yet my Days ſhall end.
"And ſhall the Thought of EMMA's Love
"No more ſuffuſe thine Eye,
"Nor chide thy Father for her Loſs?"—
She's buried in that Sigh.
"What wond'rous Bliſs to virtuous Minds
"Will Heav'n not deign to lend?
"Within my homely Hut, my Son,
"There all thy Sorrows end.
"There, there, once more ſtill ſweetly-fair
"Thy EMMA ſhalt thou ſee;
"Within my homely Hut ſhe dwells,
"My Age's Comfort ſhe!
[164]
"Her Father dead, I fill'd his Place,
"The Guardian of her Youth;
"I now reſtore her to thy Love,
"Thy Conſtancy and Truth."
Young CADWAL waited not for more,
But to his EMMA flew,
Where lock'd awhile in cloſe Embrace
Each to the other grew.
From incoherent Words and Sighs,
Such wond'rous Tranſports brake,
Far more than honey'd Eloquence
With all her Tongues cou'd ſpeak.
And now with ſtrong enquiring Look
They ſearch each other's Eye,
And aſk if what they ſee be true,
And doubt the real Joy.
And now the Father's quicken'd Steps
They greet with bended Grace,
And with up-lifted Eyes adore,
And bleſs his rev'rend Face.
[165]
"Now, by this hallow'd Eve, I vow,*
"Soon as the Maſs be done,
"The next enſuing Holy-Day
"The Prieſt ſhall make ye one,
"And ye ſhall live (ſo Heav'n permit!)
"To caſt one Gleam of Light
"Athwart your Father's gath'ring Eve,
"Or ere he ſink in Night;
"Or ere beneath yon aged Elm
"He's number'd with the dead,
"The choſen Spot where his own Hands
"Have made his lateſt Bed.
"But while ſome Hours of Life are lent,
"By Gratitude and Pray'r,
"And Mem'ry of my Errors paſt,
"Thoſe Errors I'll repair:
"And oft as I recount them o'er
"Thy ſteady Faith I'll praiſe,
"And for my deareſt Boy once more
"The ſocial Hearth ſhall blaze.
[166]
"Age, ev'n as Youth, thou ſeeſt, my Son,
"Is liable to fall,
"And Self-reproof, and Penitence,
"Alike beſeem us all."
*
Probably Chriſtmas-Eve, as December is mentioned in the Opening of the Tale.

LETTER XLI. Mr. M— G— to W. SHENSTONE, Eſq. with Fragments of Antient Poetry, printed at Edinburgh, in the Year 1760.

[167]
Dear Sir,

IT gives me the greateſt Pleaſure, that I have an Opportunity of conveying to a Perſon of your Taſte, the incloſed Fragments of antient Caledonian Poeſy—

"Full many a Gem of pureſt Ray ſerene,
"The dark unfathom'd Caves of Ocean bear,
"Full many a Roſe is born to bluſh unſeen,
"And waſte its Sweetneſs on the deſart Air."*

But Thanks to the Taſte and Care of the ingenious Tranſlator, that we have not to lament the utter Loſs of thoſe Pieces, which reflect ſo much Luſtre on the Memory of the original Bards. Here we ſee Poets framed by the Hand of Nature; their Manners rude and [168] uncultivated, as the Wilds they inhabited; unacquainted with ARISTOTLE and HORACE, but pouring the (I had almoſt ſaid) involuntary Effuſions of Minds filled with true poetic Fire, deeply intereſted in the Themes they ſung, devoid of all Rules, they attach and warm the Heart, by an amazing though ſecret Power, the conſtant Effect of copying Nature, but copying her juſtly; to which the languid Efforts of Art bear ſcarce ſo intereſting a Proportion, as the Shadow to the Subſtance.

From the general Structure of the Poetry, from the Names of the Perſons celebrated in it, and the Hints of the Coſtume ſcattered here and there, it would appear, that theſe Poems were compoſed about the Time that the antient Bards of Iceland, and the other northern Countries, made ſo great a Figure in Poetry; or, perhaps, their Date may reach back beyond the Time of Chriſtianity being preached in our Iſlands; hence it will follow, that our Anceſtors were riſing by ſurpriſing Efforts to catch the faireſt Flowers of Parnaſſus, while the polite Regions of Europe reſounded [169] with polemic Theology and monkiſh Nonſenſe: this becomes the more probable, when we reflect, that ſcarce any Trace of Chriſtianity is to be found in theſe Pieces, and no Trace of the Names that prevailed after the ninth Century, inſtead of which, the Names appear entirely Pagan; and numberleſs Hints are taken from the predatory Life our Anceſtors (particularly thoſe of the Iſlands and north-weſt Coaſts of Scotland) led before, and at the firſt preaching of the Goſpel among them. A critical Examination of the original Language would help to throw ſome Light on this Conjecture, as well as the Publication of Pieces of greater Length, which may follow theſe firſt Specimens. It is not, however, to be doubted, that the many Fragments ſtill preſerved amongſt our Highlanders of their antient Poetry, may be of great Uſe in ſettling the Hiſtory, and aſcertaining the Meaning of ſeveral Antiquities diſperſed over the mountainous Parts of Scotland, while the Man of Taſte muſt be agreeably ſurpriſed to find a Beauty and Force of Diction, a Warmth of Fancy, a chaſte and truly noble Simplicy united, where hitherto no Perſon has ever looked for it. [170] If theſe Specimens are well received by the Public, and if ſuitable Encouragement were given to the ingenious Tranſlator, he would oblige the World with the Tranſlation of the Epic Poem mentioned in the Preface, which conſiſts of upwards of nine thouſand Lines: but the dependant Situation of a Tutor cannot afford him Leiſure to undertake ſo great a Work.

Your Friends in this Corner of the World were much diſappointed, in not having the Happineſs of ſeeing you laſt Summer along with Lord LYTTELTON; and without Flattery I can aſſure, that the Number of your Friends in Scotland is greater than, perhaps, you think of, and every one of them would be happy to have an Opportunity of ſeeing and obliging you. Lord ALEMOOR, Dr. ROEBUCK and his Spouſe deſire to be remembered; and I ſhall take it as a particular Favour, that you would, at a leiſure Hour, write me your Opinion of the incloſed Specimens, and allow me to be with Eſteem, truly, dear Sir,

Your very obedient, and moſt humble Servant, J. M— G—.
[171]

Two frank'd Covers will bring the two firſt Diviſions of the Fragment. Pleaſe, addreſs for me at Edingburgh.

LETTER XLII. Extract from a Letter of Mr. B— (Lord E—'s Brother) to Mr. T—.

I KNOW no Way ſo good of making up for my long Silence to you, as ſending you the encloſed Poem, which if it gives you as much Pleaſure as it did me, you will give me no ſmall Thanks for: it is tranſlated from an old Highland Poem, by one Mr. M' PHERSON, a Miniſter in the Highlands. There are great Numbers of theſe Elegies all over the Highlands, which they ſing to mournful Tunes in the Evening over their Fires. Mr. M' PHERSON has, I hear, tranſlated ten more of them, which I fancy will ſoon be publiſhed; if they are not, I ſhall endeavour to get them, and ſend them to you. It will be needleſs to ſay [172] any Thing in Praiſe of the Poem, as I think it can ſufficiently recommend itſelf. The Tranſlation has a great deal of Merit; I think it is one of the beſt I ever ſaw. I fancy SHENSTONE will be much pleaſed with the Poem, which I ſhall be obliged to you if you will preſent to him with my Compliments.

A FRAGMENT.*

THE following deſcriptive Poem (though very old) is of much later Date than the foregoing Fragments.

Five Bards, who are the Gueſts of a Chief, (himſelf an excellent Poet) go ſeverally out to make their Obſervations on the Night, and return each with an extemporary Deſcription of it, [173] to which the Chief adds one of his own. The Time is ſuppoſed to be in October, the Harveſt Month in the Highlands; when the Face of Nature is as various, and its Changes as ſudden, as they are here repreſented.

FIRST BARD.
NIGHT is dull and dark,
The Clouds reſt on the Hills;
No Star with twinkling Beam,
No Moon looks from the Skies.
I hear the Blaſt in the Wood,
But diſtant and dull I hear it.
The Stream of the Valley murmurs,
Low is its Murmur too.
From the Tree, at the Grave of the Dead,
The lonely Screech-Owl groans.
I ſee a dim Form on the Plain,
'Tis a Ghoſt! It fades, it flies;
Some dead ſhall paſs this Way.
From the lowly Hut of the Hill
[174]The diſtant Dog is howling;
The Stag lies by the Mountain-Well,
The Hind is at his Side;
She hears the Wind in his Horns,
She ſtarts, but lies again.
The Roe is in the Cleft of the Rock:
The Heath-Cock's Head beneath his Wing.
No Beaſt, no Bird is abroad,
But the Owl, and the howling Fox [...]
She on the leafleſs Tree,
He on the cloudy Hill.
Dark, panting, trembling, ſad,
The Traveller has loſt his Way;
Thro' Shrubs, thro' Thorns he goes,
Beſide the gurgling Rills;
He fears the Rock and the Pool,
He fears the Ghoſt of the Night.
The old Tree groans to the Blaſt,
The falling Branch reſounds,
The Wind drives the clung Thorn,
Along the ſighing Graſs,
He ſhakes amid the Night.
Dark, duſky, howling is Night,
Cloudy, windy, and full of Ghoſts;
The dead are abroad; my Friends,
Receive me from the Night.
[175]SECOND BARD.
THE Wind is upon the Mountain,
The Shower of the Hill deſcends.
Woods groan and Windows clap,
The growing River roars:
The Traveller attempts the Ford,
He falls, he ſhrieks, he dies.
The Storm drives the Horſe from the Hill,
The Goat and the lowing Cow;
They tremble as drives the Shower,
And look for the Shade of the Stall.
The Hunter ſtarts from Sleep in his lone Hut,
And wakes the Fire decay'd;
His wet Dogs ſmoak around him:
He ſtops the Chink with Heath.
Loud roar two Mountain Streams,
Which meet beſide his Booth;
Sad on the Side of the Hill
The wandering Shepherd ſits,
The Tree reſounds above him,
The Stream roars down the Rock;
He waits the riſing Moon
To lead him to his Home;
[176]Ghoſts ride on the Storm to-night.
Sweet is their Voice between the Guſts of Wind,
Their Songs are of other Worlds.
The Rain is paſt—the dry Winds blow,
Streams roar and Windows clap;
Cold Drops fall from the Roof.
I ſee the ſtarry Sky—
But the Shower gathers again!
Dark, dark, is the weſtern Sky!
Night is ſtormy, diſmal, dark;
Receive me, my Friends, from the Night.
THIRD BARD.
THE Winds ſtill ſound between the Hills,
And groan on the riven Rocks:
The Firs fall from their Place on high,
The turfy Hut is torn.
The Clouds divided fly o'er the Sky,
And ſhew the burning Stars.
The Meteor (Token of Death)
[177]Flies ſparkling thro' the Gloom;
It reſts on the Hills, it burns—I ſee the Fern,
The dark Rock, and fallen Oak.
What dead is that in his Shroud?—
Beneath the Tree by the Stream
The Waves dark tumble on the Lake,
And laſh the rocky Sides.
The Boat is brim-full in the Cove;
The Oars on the rocky Tide.
Sad ſits a Maid beneath a Rock,
And eyes the rolling Stream:
Her Lover promiſed to come,
She ſaw his Boat, when it was light, on the Lake.
Is this his broken Boat on the Shore?
Are theſe his Groans in the Wind?
Hark! the Hail rattles around,
The Flakes of Snow deſcend.—
The Tops of the Hills are white,
The ſtormy Winds abate,
Various is Night and cold;
Receive me, my Friends, from the Night.
[178]FOURTH BARD.
NIGHT is calm and fair,
Blue, ſtarry, and ſettled is Night;
The Winds with the Clouds are gone:
They deſcend behind the Hill.
The Moon is upon the Mountains;
Trees gliſter, Streams ſhine on the Rocks,
Bright rolls the ſettling Lake,
Bright the Stream of the Vale.
I ſee the Trees o'erturned;
The Shocks of Corn on the Plain;
The wakeful Peaſant rebuilds the Sheaves,
Or drives the Beaſts of the Hills away.
Calm, ſettled, and fair is Night.
Who comes from the Place of the Dead?
That Form in the Robe of Snow,
Theſe white Arms, that Hair of Gold;
The Daughter of the Chief of the People,
She that lately fell!
Come, let us view thee, Maid;
Thou that wert the Deſire of Heroes!
[179]The Blaſt drives the Phantom away,
White and without Form it aſcends the Hill.
The Breezes drive the blue Miſt
Over the narrow Vale:
Grey on the Hill it aſcends,
And joins itſelf to the Sky.
Night is ſettled and calm,
Blue, ſtarry, bright, with the Moon.
Receive me not, my Friends,
For lovely is the Night.
FIFTH BARD.
NIGHT is calm, but dreary;
The Moon in a Cloud in the Weſt,
Slow moves that feeble Beam
Along the ſhady Hill.
The diſtant Wave is heard;
The Stream dull murmurs on the Rock.
[180]The Cock is heard from the Booth;
More than half the Night is paſſed.
The Houſewife groping in the Gloom
Rekindles the ſettled Fire.
The Hunter thinks it Day,
And calls his nimble Dog:
He aſcends the Hill,
And whiſtles the Road away:
A Blaſt removes the Cloud;
He ſees the ſtarry Plough of the North:
Much of the Night is to paſs;
He nods by the moſſy Stone.
Hark, the Whirlwind is in the Wood;
Low Murmurs on the Plain.
'Tis the Army of the mighty Dead
Returning from the Air!
The Moon reſts behind the Hill;
The Beam is ſtill on the lofty Rock;
Long are the Shades of the Trees:
But now 'tis dark over all.
Night's dreary, ſilent and dark!
Receive me, my Friends, from the Night.
[181]SIXTH BARD. (The Chief himſelf.)
LET Clouds reſt on the Hill,
Spirits fly, and Travellers fear;
Let the Winds of the Wood ariſe,
The ſounding Storm deſcend;
Roar Streams and Windows clap,
And green-winged Meteors fly;
Riſe the pale Moon on the Mountain,
Or incloſe her Head in Clouds,
Night is alike to me,
Blue, gloomy, or ſtormy the Sky.
Night flies, and her goblin Crew,
When Morn is poured on the Hills;
Light returns from the Gloom:
But we return no more!
Where are our Chiefs of old?
Where our Kings of modern Name?
The Fields whereon they fought are ſilent;
Scarce their moſſy Tombs remain.
We too ſhall be forgot;
This lofty Houſe ſhall fall:
[182]Our Sons ſhall ſcarce ſee its Ruins on the Graſs,
And ſhall aſk, Where dwelt our Fathers?
Raiſe the Song, ſtrike the Harp,
Send around the Shell * of Joy;
Suſpend a hundred Tapers on high,
Maids and Youths begin the Dance.
Some grey-lock'd Bard be near,
And ſing the Deeds of other Times;
Of Kings renown'd in Albion,
Of Chiefs we ſee no more.
Thus paſs the Night,
Till Morn is grey in our Hall;
Then be the Bow in Hand,
The Dogs and Youth of the Chace;
We aſcend the Hill with Day,
And rouze the flying Deer.
*
This exquiſite little Fragment is already publiſhed among the Notes in the firſt Volume of OSSIAN's Works; but as, in Mr. SHENSTONE's Manuſcript, the Expreſſion of many of the Paſſages varied from the printed Poem, the Editor of this Work preſumed an Inſertion of his Copy might not be unwelcome to the Curious.
*
They drank out of a Shell, as great Numbers do ſtill.

LETTER XLIII. R. G—, Eſq. to Mr. HULL.

[183]
Dear HULL,

I SAFE arrived in Somerſetſhire, after two pleaſant and eaſy Days Journey, and am now ſet down to write to you, according to my Promiſe, and to note what Alterations or Innovations I had obſerved upon, in the Modes and Manners of London, ſince I had not been there ſo long before.

This Chapter is reduced to ſo few Heads, from the ſeveral Converſations we had together in Town, upon the taking down the Signs, the rooting up the Poſts, the paving and lighting of Oxford-Road, Holborn, Monmouth-Street, and St. Giles's, the conſtructing of Black-Friars-Bridge, &c. that I cannot recollect any other Remark I made worth mentioning, at preſent, except the introducing of Aſſes in the City, for the Uſe of Milkmen, Fruiterers, Hawkers, &c.

[184]This I thought a great Improvement, as it ſerves to leſſen the Number of Barrows that uſed to interrupt Walkers on the broad Pavements; but this Conſideration was damped again at ſeeing the barbarous Treatment theſe poor Animals often ſuffer from their brutal Guides or Riders. I often thought of STERNE upon theſe Occaſions.* An Aſs is a dull, ſlow Creature, that will not mend its Pace for Whip or Spur—This theſe Wretches call Obſtinacy, and ſo puniſh it for a Defect of Nature, as they would for a moral Vice: for if they reaſon at all, you may be ſure they reaſon thus, becauſe it is wrong.

This has renewed a Reflection in my Mind, that has often occurred to me before, upon the unaccountable Diſpoſition towards Cruelty exerciſed againſt the Brute-Creation, which is too frequently obſerved among the general Claſſes of Mankind, who have not been reſtrained by natural Sentiment, or refined by a liberal Education.

[185]If Sympathy, as modern Philoſophers aſſert, be the ultimate Cauſe of our being affected for others, that of Pain, one would think, ſhould be the ſtrongeſt. All Men do not feel Misfortunes, or ſuffer Grief, alike. One Perſon may reſent a Mortification, or a Loſs, to Madneſs; while his more temperate Friend can afford his Pity or Compaſſion no higher or further than his own Paſſions or Sentiments would have extended in the ſame Circumſtances. Here Sympathy is at an End. But all Perſons and Animals too are alike ſenſible of Pain—Ergo

We have from hence Reaſon to conclude, that 'tis more from Want of Thought, than of Humanity, that the contrary is ſo apparent; and this Argument, I think, is fully proved by the Obſervation, that Children and Fools are the moſt guilty of it.

Beſides which, there is a great deal in Cuſtom, that may take off from the natural Feelings of Compaſſion, with Regard to the Brute-Creation, among Numbers of People, ſuch as [186] Butchers, Surgeons, Soldiers, &c. A Fiſhwoman being reprehended for the Barbarity of fleaing Eels alive, anſwered, that it was no Cruelty, as they were ſo much uſed to it; which was plainly transferring the Inſenſibility ſhe had herſelf acquired, through Habit, to the poor ſuffering Reptile. This puts me in Mind of the Blunder of an Iriſh Parliament once, that framed an Act to puniſh Forgery with the Loſs of both Ears, and ſo toties quoties.

There is alſo, I apprehend, a Sort of Notion reſting in uninſtructed Minds, that Morality has nothing to do with our Actions towards Brutes, any more than it has with Regard to inanimate Nature; ſo that many Folks, from ſuch a ſtrange Miſconception, torture an Animal with as little Remorſe as they would lop off the Branch of a Tree. Such People muſt never have read the Sentence of SOLOMON, that a good Man is merciful to his Beaſt; nor that of SHAKESPEARE,

"The poor Beetle that we tread upon,
"In corp'ral Suff'rance feels a Pang as great
"As when a Giant dies."

[187]I remember I was once ſitting with a Friend, and ſeeing his Son tormenting a poor Dog, by making him ſuffer great Pain, I ſpake to the Father, to reprove him for it; to which he coolly anſwered, that as he deſigned the Boy for the Army, he did not care to inſpire him with too tender Feelings. ‘"Your Idea might not be much amiſs,"’ I replied, ‘"if you meant to breed him a Butcher, or a Hangman."’ What a Gothic Notion, that Bravery and Humanity were incompatible!

OVID ſeems to have been of my Opinion in the above Reproof, by making Prieſts, who were the firſt Butchers, or Sacrificers, to have led the Way to Cruelty and Slaughter—

Primoque a caede Ferarum
Incaluiſſe putem maculatum ſanguine Ferrum.

I will not ſay, however, that this may be the Reaſon why Parſons and Butchers are equally excluded from being on Juries of Life and Death, becauſe there would be a Sort of pert Dulneſs in the Remark—Aſking Pardon for the [188] Tautology—No; the true Reaſon for theſe Excluſions is, that the latter are rendered callous, from being too familiar with Slaughter; and with Regard to the former, that the Miniſters of Peace ſhould keep clear of Blood.

A Thought has juſt occurred to me. I have not Leiſure both to examine and to write it too, ſo I ſhall only ſport it for the preſent. Perhaps, the Injunction in the Levitical Law, to abſtain from Blood, might not have been meant in Derogation of Black-Puddings in the leaſt, but only as a figurative Manner of repeating the Sixth Commandment, ‘"Thou ſhalt do no Murder."’

A Comment upon the Inhibition of PYTHAGORAS, Abſtine à Fabis, * has hinted this Notion to me; for the learned BACON, which Name, you know, accords very well with Beans, ſays, that what the Sage intended by the Prohibition was, to forbid meddling with the Contentions and Strife of Electioneering, where the Votes or Suffrages were given, pro and con, by black and white Beans.

[189]And this Interpretation ought certainly to appear the true Senſe of the Precept, from this Conſideration; for as that Philoſopher had before reſtricted his Diſciples from the Uſe of all animal Food, on Account of the tranſmigratory Notions he had picked up in India, he could not poſſibly have been ſo unconſcionable, as to have laid any Manner of Reſtraint on the vegetable Product of the Earth.

Yours, &c. R. G—.

LETTER XLIV. Mrs. — to Mr. HULL, of Covent-Garden Theatre.

[192]

THE great Reſpect you, Sir, have ſhewn to Mr. SHENSTONE, in dedicating your Tragedy of ROSAMOND to his Memory, added to the Pleaſure I have received from ſome of your other Publications, will, I truſt, plead an Excuſe for an Intruſion from a Stranger, and eſpecially as it is to beg your Acceptance of the encloſed Poem; it was written by that Friend whoſe Death you ſo feelingly lament; it has been in my Poſſeſſion ever ſince, or before that Period: of its Merits I am no Judge; but from its Author, ſhould imagine it not deſtitute, and have long regretted its remaining in Hands ſo little capable of making it appear as it ought. The ſincere Pleaſure I received, in ſeeing Mr. SHENSTONE's Name ſo reſpectfully and publickly revived, induced me to wiſh to make the Author ſome Acknowledgment, and this appears to be the [191] only Way; for ſhould not the Diamond have Brilliancy enough for the Public, yet it may not be an unwelcome Amuſement to a private Friend, to remove the Dimneſs.

I ſhould much ſooner have made this Acknowledgment, but from a Diffidence of its being accepted; however, I hope the beſt, and that you will be kind enough to accept it as it is meant. Should it prove worthy of Notice, and acceptable to ſo partial a Friend, I ſhall hope, (as I have no Copy) to receive your Opinion; and muſt requeſt it as a particular Favour, that to any Friend you chuſe to ſhew it, my Name may not be mentioned; on that Account I decline ſaying any Thing of myſelf. My Addreſs is, &c.

Permit me to hope you will excuſe the Errors of a weak Pen, and believe me, Sir,

Your obliged humble Servant, M. —.
[193]

THE DIAMOND: A POEM.
CANTO I.

CUPID o'er human Breaſts reſiſtleſs reigns,
Fierce in his Joys, unrival'd in his Pains;
Not JOVE, when Hypocrites his Shrine adore;
Not JUNO, when her Altars ſmoke no more;
Not PHOEBUS, when from POPE's encircled Brows
DENNIS would rend the Bays himſelf beſtows,
Reſolve ſuch Vengeance, or ſuch Pangs decree,
As owe their Riſe, relentleſs Boy, to thee!
[194]
By thee enſlav'd, MYRTILLO long had known
His Paſſion laſting, when his Hopes were flown;
MYRTILLO, fram'd to make e'en Toaſts adore,
And bleſt by Fortune much, by Nature more;
Swift o'er the Spinnet-Keys his Fingers flew,
And, Love except, to quell each Paſſion knew.
Such human Art, with Joy APOLLO view'd,
And with ſome Graces from his own endu'd;
From him, when loſt ADONIS caus'd her Grief,
E'en Cytherea might have heard Relief:
But, ah! to ev'ry Charm, to ev'ry Grace,
That deck'd his Words, or ſparkled in his Face,
Endear'd his Perſon, or his Thoughts refin'd,
The Nymph alone, he lov'd, alone was blind.
Each other Belle the ſlighted Charms admir'd,
Each other Belle the ſlighted Heart deſir'd;
With practis'd Airs they ſtrove to pleaſe the Swain,
With practis'd Airs they purchas'd freſh Diſdain.
No bright enamour'd Fair could e'er incline
The Heart LAMIRA fir'd without Deſign.
Where cou'd he fly? From whence his Anguiſh eaſe?
The Play, the Park, the Ring, no more could pleaſe;
[195]Each radiant Beau, with jealous Fury fir'd,
And Solitude and Sounds, with Love conſpir'd.
To CUPID thus, while Muſic's tuneful Aid
Sadden'd each Note, the Boy in Anguiſh pray'd:
"Harmonious Pow'r! Accept theſe mournful Strains,
"Reward my Paſſion, or remove my Pains;
"If e'er thy Praiſe with early Care I ſing,
"If e'er thy Praiſe inſpire my Ev'ning String,
"Oh! grant the Arts which make thy Glory known,
"May move LAMIRA's Breaſt, or eaſe my own."
APOLLO heard, and liſt'ning to his Grief,
Sent MAIA's nimble Son to bring Relief;
His Meſſage known, he cleaves the yielding Skies,
And quick as Light'ning to the Suppliant flies;
Ruffled with Winds, he ſhakes his azure Plumes,
And round the Place diffus'd divine Perfumes;
Then thus begins—"MYRTILLO ceaſe to grieve,
"And from the Delphian Pow'r theſe Notes receive;
"Think not by Sounds thy Paſſion to remove,
"The Breath of Muſic fans the Fires of Love;
[196]"Think not to Muſic bends a female Ear;
"(Flatt'ry, the only Sound the Fair can hear!)
"With Flatt'ry charm her, or with Pomp aſſail,
"Thoſe laſt dear Arts with Females to prevail.
"Nurs'd by APOLLO long, with genial Care,
"This pow'rful Preſent from the God I bear;
"Theſe he preſcribes, with theſe he bids purſue,
"No mortal Female theſe untouch'd ſhall view."
Thus ends the God, and in a Moment flies,
Whilſt on the Board a Shagreen Caſket lies.
Long Fragrance fills the Room, the ſable Box
The Maid with pious, trembling Hand unlocks;
She opes, out fly ten thouſand glitt'ring Rays,
And hide the Subſtance, thro' a mingled Blaze;
The Radiance charms; but when with raptur'd Eyes,
And nearer View, ſhe pierc'd the bright Diſguiſe;
When the gay Brilliant's Luſtre ſhone confeſt,
She clos'd the Box, and joyous thought the reſt.
A Joy like this, harmonious ORPHEUS knew,
When, wond'rous Huſband! to the Shades he flew,
And wand'ring 'long the Gloom, with glad Surpriſe
Perceiv'd at laſt, his Conſort's ſparkling Eyes.
[197]
Ah! dear BRILLANTE! few thy Story know,
Whoſe Beauties in this Gem eternal glow;
Yet ſhall the pious Muſe the Tale relate,
And with her Verſe adorn BRILLANTE's Fate.
Of humble Birth the bright Enchanter came,
Unequal to her Beauty, Wit, or Fame;
Deep in a lonely Vale ſhe ſhone retir'd,
Few ſaw the Maid, but all who ſaw admir'd;
She ſhun'd no Virtue, tho' ſhe ſought no Praiſe,
And paſs'd in quiet unexpos'd her Days;
Much had ſhe heard the various Toils that wait
The Pride of Riches, and the Pomp of State;
Much her fond Mother taught, with pious Care,
And lateſt Breath, 'twas dang'rous to be fair.
"BRILLY," ſhe cried, "my tender Child, farewel,
"Shun the gay Court, and grace this humble Cell;
"There various Arts for Innocence are laid,
"To ruin Youth, and trap th' unwary Maid;
"Charms in an humble State may prove a Snare,
"But plac'd on high, they cheat the niceſt Care.
"Let ev'ry Rule my living Care ſupply'd,
"When I'm unheard of, be thy Virtue's Guide;
[198]"And ev'ry Maxim giv'n preſerve in Store
"To guard thoſe Charms I now muſt view no more.—
"Adieu—If e'er the Wiles of Courts you ſee,
"And weak'ning Virtue faulter, think of me."
Freſh Charms adorn'd her, as more Years ſhe knew,
Her Fame extended as her Beauties grew;
A rigid Sternneſs all her Beauties arm'd,
Which ev'ry faint minute Approach alarm'd.
The opening Roſe ſhone in her Cheeks refin'd,
And, like its guardian Thorn, her Virtue join'd.
The wond'ring Prince receiv'd at length her Fame,
And to the Court convey'd th' unwilling Dame;
Th' unwilling Dame to pleaſe he vainly ſtrove,
Too ſoon ſhe rais'd, but ne'er return'd his Love.
Here long ſhe ſhone untainted and the ſame,
And as her Virtue, ſpotleſs was her Fame;
By Arts unſoften'd, tho' by Arts improv'd,
Her Charms mov'd all, by Charms herſelf unmov'd.
[199]
APOLLO burn'd—But ſince the Fair cou'd prove
In courts uninjur'd, ſtill reſtrain'd his Love,
And wond'ring, ſwore, a Nymph ſo fair, ſo chaſte,
In Fame's Memorial, by the Pow'r ſhould laſt;
Hence, when to Duſt diſſolv'd, his ſhining Frame
Contracting, ſoon a glitt'ring Gem became;
Charms not inferior ſtill the Stone retains,
And wounding all, itſelf untouch'd remains.
Theſe ſignal Honours LOVE indignant bore,
And vow'd to raze them, or his own reſtore.
"If thus," he cry'd, "BRILLANTE void of Pain,
"Could all my Arrows, all my Arts ſuſtain,
"Yet ſhall her Fate aſſiſt my ſlighted Bow,
"And raiſe thoſe Joys, ſhe ne'er deſerv'd to know;
"For me her Gem its Luſtre ſhall employ,
"For me her Patron's hourly Rays enjoy,
"For me o'er yielding Panes victorious move,
"And paint in am'rous Lines th' immortal Feats of LOVE."

THE DIAMOND. CANTO II.

[201]
NOW Sol to weſtern Climes directs his Blaze,
And gilds LAMIRA's Couch with parting Rays,
The Hour, when Nymphs on airy Subſtance prey,
And thinly feed on Scandal and on Tea.
The Moment comes—the Viſitants are ſeen,
With Tales replete, and groſsly fill'd with Spleen;
The powder'd Valet trips in neat Array;
Bright on the Tea-Board ſhines the glitt'ring Clay;
[202]There artful China, pictur'd Grots and Bow'rs,
Hills, Rivers, Vallies, Turrets, Meads and Flow'rs.
Bright azure Paſtures, deep impervious Shades,
Deſerving Swains, and not ingrateful Maids;
Beneath a clouded Beach a Shepherd lay,
And with blue Fingers play'd, or ſeem'd to play,
The gen'rous Nymphs forſook the neighb'ring Plains,
To court his Paſſion, or admire his Strains;
The eager Painter form'd too quick the Glance,
And Thirſt of Gain had ſpoil'd the mimic Dance,
(Oh, hateful Av'rice! ever doom'd to prove
The Bane of Arts, and much unkind to Love)
The gazing Flocks, and ſoftly-treading Fawns,
With Ears up-lifted ſeem to ſkim the Lawns:
Full twice a Day can this LAMIRA view,
Yet hear unmov'd her Swain his Notes renew?
Th' impartial Pot ſtreams equal Shares around,
Scarce on the Bench is greater Juſtice found;
The Sugar ſinks, like Zembla's Hills of Snow,
Whene'er decending Tides their Tops o'erflow,
The ſoft Imperial breaths a fragrant Fume,
And from each Check calls forth reviving Bloom;
But chief LAMIRA, doubly form'd to pleaſe,
Shone Beauty's Queen, amidſt her infant Seas.
[203]
Hail, fav'rite Plant! whoſe fragrant Scent inſpires
The Stateſman's Projects, and the Poet's Fires.
Hail, ever-lov'd! and tho' ſometimes you flow
A Friend to Scandal, ne'er to Wit a Foe.
A beauteous Nymph (Oh, had ſhe been but free
From Scandal's Taint) eternal breathes in thee:
Ah! let the Muſe (what Female can contain
A Secret known) poor THEA's Fate explain.
THEA a Nymph, whom ENVY, wand'ring o'er
This nether World, to artful MOMUS bore;
Too ſoon ſhe knew no Scandal to conceal,
And learnt to raiſe it, or when rais'd reveal;
Her ſtamm'ring Tongue was fram'd to liſp Diſgrace;
But when ſhe ſpake, all Merit left the Place!
Her careful Parents as ſhe grew diſplay'd
Each various Branch of Slander's myſtic Trade;
The Look ſincere, the deep perſuaſive Wile,
The Frown tremendous, and more dreadful Smile,
The Wink, which more than real Blame inſtils,
Pity that murders, and Concern that kills,
Malicious Whiſp'rings, ever fatal found,
Which, like retiring Parthians, doubly wound,
[204]Wit to invent, and Malice to declare
Diſgrace on all the Witty, Chaſte or Fair.
All theſe they taught, and what they taught enjoin'd,
And view'd themſelves in THEA more refin'd.
Ah, thoughtleſs Pair! your fatal Kindneſs leave,
Nor bleſs thoſe Arts for which you once muſt grieve.
The Nymph with theſe, and Arts like theſe, endu'd,
Charms, Virtue, Wit, with artful Spite purſu'd.
From Earth's Abodes, at length exil'd the Fair,
To Heav'n confin'd and perſecuted there;
There, blending Vice with Virtue, Truth with Lies,
Left not one Virgin to adorn the Skies.
She told why Deities admire Perfumes,
And trac'd the heav'nly Riſe of Black-Lead Combs;
Gave Hints, what Stays mechanic PALLAS wore,
And why DIANA chac'd the ſylvan Boar;
What Muſe forgot her Eye-brow Box ſhe ſhew'd,
And why AURORA's Face with Crimſon glow'd;
[205]She knew that Virgin Veſtal was no Saint,
And JUNO's Toilette ſhone with Floods of Paint;
That VENUS ſure from Nature ne'er would ſwerve,
But for Ambroſia, Iv'ry Teeth might ſerve.
Revenge and Rage th' offended Pow'rs alarms,
For heav'nly Breaſts terreſtrial Fury warms;
Conſcious of Virtue ſome with Rage o'erflow'd;
Of Guilt the moſt with deeper Crimſon glow'd.
As once, DIANA chac'd along the Glade
Her uſual Prey, ſhe ſpy'd th' ill-fated Maid,
"And, take," ſhe cry'd, "from CYNTHIA's Bow the Fate,
"Which injur'd Fame exacts, alas! too late!"
She ſaid—the Javelin pierc'd her tender Side,
And the moiſt Turf with guilty Crimſon dy'd;
Quick on the Turf a riſing Plant was ſeen,
Which bears her Name, and blooms for ever green.
Now Tea and Coffee ſpire in Steams no more,
And Cups inverted ſhew the Banquet o'er;
Not ſo the Slander—SILVIA's Hand ſuſtains
A Cup enrich'd with nine important Grains;
[206]From hence the Fair the Fall of Modes diſcerns,
And Life's Events in typic Viſions learns;
The Fair's important Annals hence relates,
And with ſoft ruby Lips unfolds the Fates;
Yet now her own for Fortune's Will diſplays,
And guides thoſe Laws which JOVE himſelf obeys:
For gay SELINDA, Viſits, Journeys, News,
And one poor Lover at a Diſtance views;
In CHLOE's hapleſs Diſh, more deeply brown,
The ſable Honours of a Parſon's Gown;
LIVONIA's yields Groves, Meadows, Fields and Lawns,
And in her own, a Star obſcurely dawns.
"Tell me," ſhe cries, "why that ſmall Meteor ſhines,
"Which with the Diſhes azure Circle joins;"
But, ah! what Pen, LAMIRA, ſhall explain
Thy Anger, Scorn, Reſentment and Diſdain,
When ſhe, too partial to the States Decree,
Conſign'd MYRTILLO, hapleſs Maid, to thee?
"Revenge, revenge," ſhe cries, "inſulting Dame!
"Shall Charms like mine, inferior Vot'rys claim?
[207]"I too might boaſt"—The vaunting Females riſe,
And each loud Voice united, rends the Skies.
Their Vict'ries, Spoils, and Triumphs, each avers,
Earneſt in vain! for none is heard or hears.
So in thoſe Days, when JOVE in frantic Mirth,
Vouchſaf'd to comfort humble Maids on Earth,
If one ambitious made her Conqueſt known,
Each vaunting Female brag'd the Caſe her own.
Parting, they vow Revenge; they vow in vain,
The Fair's Diverſions ſoon unite again.
CUPID mean Time had from MYRTILLO flew,
And on the Table drops a Billet-doux.
Thither to ſeek the Glaſs's timely Aid,
For ruffled Features, hy'd th' abandon'd Maid:
But ſoon her Charms their uſual Force renew'd,
When on the Board the well-known Shape ſhe view'd;
She eyes the Wax, adorn'd with rubric Darts,
And in the Opening, breaks three flaming Hearts.
"A Ticket—hum—the Name conceal'd I find;
"'Tis much in vain—his Lordſhip's wond'rous kind.
[208]"Dear Muſic! Well!—If Bliſs above be giv'n,
"And Nymphs have Souls—ſure Muſic is our Heaven."
Ah, thoughtleſs Maid! to ſeek the fatal Place,
So long decreed MYRTILLO's Pow'r to raiſe;
There firſt thine Eyes devour'd the treach'rous Blaze,
There firſt thine Eyes occur'd with rival Rays;
At ev'ry Chord the fatal Luſtre ſtreams,
And the gay Ring re-gilds un-number'd Beams.
How killing ev'ry Sound when Splendour fires!
How pow'rful ev'ry Ray when Sound conſpires!
No more, frail Nymph, unmov'd ſhe ſees or hears,
But drinks deep Poiſon in at Eyes and Ears.

THE DIAMOND. CANTO III.

[209]
NOW from Earth's Surface pearly Spangles riſe,
The Morning-Star no more adorns the Skies,
And PHOEBUS iſſuing in unclouded Bloom,
Had woke a brighter to ſupply its Room,
LAMIRA roſe—but diff'rent far her Mien,
Far chang'd her Looks, from what they late were ſeen;
Uneaſy Thoughts each alter'd Feature ſhew'd,
And her dear Cheek with fev'riſh Crimſon glow'd,
The Looks of Care yet lovely ſtill ſhe bore,
And Grief but chang'd the Charms reveal'd before.
[210]
"DORIS, ſhe cry'd," "what anxious Cares infeſt,
"What Doubts diſquiet my ill-fated Breaſt?
"Were not my Pride ſuperior to my Pain,
"I could not ſlight the Boy with mere Diſdain;
"With ſuch high Raptures ev'ry Geſture fir'd,
"Such more than uſual Bliſs his Strains inſpir'd,
"Some heav'nly Pow'r—nor let vain Tongues deny
"The ſerious Truth—inveſts the fav'rite Boy.
"When ſoothing Accents lull'd the Lover's Pains,
"And ARIADNE clos'd the dying Strains,
"The Loves and Graces join'd in wanton Play,
"And with the ſoftening Thrills I dy'd away.
"How curſt this ling'ring live-long Night has flown
"In ſleepleſs Hours, or Sleep to Reſt unknown.
"Perplex'd awake, in vain I Sleep implor'd,
"Sleep to my Eyes the fatal Form reſtor'd;
"Thro' ſhapeleſs Ways fatigu'd, by Fancy borne,
"In frantic Rage I curs'd the loit'ring Morn;
"O'er pathleſs Downs methought he wildly flew,
"Still as he ran, my eager Paſſion grew.
[211]"In vain, with Toil ſucceſsleſs, I purſu'd;
"In vain, with eager Hope, the Chace renew'd.
"How wild are Dreams!—the Brilliant's ſilver Ray
"Seem'd from his Hand to point the wiſh'd-for Way;
"Still with repeated Strife I ſeek the Chace,
"Still the ſwift Boy eludes my ſought Embrace:
"Sometimes I heard ſome faint imperfect Strains
"Divinely warble o'er the echoing Plains;
"Mov'd by the Winds, his Treſſes ſweetly flow'd,
"And more than mortal in each Feature glow'd.
"Tell me, whence ſpring the Tortures I endure;
"If this be Love, or if it be, to cure.
"Fate ſure theſe Charms for other Flames deſign'd,
"For other Flames the Cyprian Queen refin'd.
"To ſhine the firſt at Park, at Ring and Ball,
"To ſee lac'd Valets wait in Crouds one's Call;
"Still to be envied, to whom this is giv'n—
"Ye Gods! how nearly Earth reſembles Heav'n!
"Ah, fickle Females! how ſhall I diſplay
"The Revolutions of one female Day?
[212]"Such num'rous Changes in one Hour abound,
"Such the Succeſſion in a Moment found,
"When balanc'd Paſſions their ſhort Reign divide,
"And Vanity and Love by Turns ſubſide."
Thus paſs'd the doubtful Day the fault'ring Dame,
Till in Love's fav'rite Hour MYRTILLO came,
His radiant Buckles now their Charms diſplay,
And ſet in Sable, ſhine profuſely gay.
But when he danc'd, ſhe gaz'd with raptur'd Eyes,
And raptur'd Love unreal Charms ſupplies;
No longer now unmov'd ſhe ſlights his Pains,
But ev'ry Look, her yielding Soul explains,
Each tender Glance her flutt'ring Heart alarms,
Each Action fires her, and each Motion charms.
This erring Nymphs an Air, a Grace may call—
Oh, blind to Truth!—The Brilliant forms it all.*
*
This was written before the Snuff-Box, at the Time I lived at Harborough, perhaps about the Year 1734, and has a more ſimple Plan than the other; but has little or nothing to recommend it beſides. W. SHENSTONE.

LETTER XLV. Mrs. W— to Mr. HULL.

[213]

PERMIT me, Sir, to aſſure you, that to me your Manner of receiving what I thought only a due Acknowledgment to your diſintereſted Friendſhip, more than even acquits a real Obligation, as well as gives me a ſincere Pleaſure in reflecting, that what I eſteem'd is at laſt in the Hands of one who will equally value its intrinſic Worth, and is ſo much more capable of introducing it properly to the public Inſpection; ſuch I imagine is your Intention, and I moſt willingly receive the Favour you offer, of letting me know your Determination; for why may I not look upon the Friend of a Gentleman, whoſe Memory I eſteem, in the Number of my own? Give me leave ſo to do, and as ſuch to preſent the Compliments of the Seaſon to you and Mrs. HULL, with cordial Wiſhes for your ſeeing many happy Returns.

[214]The Manner of the Diamond is ſimilar to the Poem you mention;* but if I may, without expoſing my Judgment, ſpeak the Truth, I give the former the Preference, even againſt POPE, and this becauſe I think there is greater Delicacy of Sentiment: but what elſe could be expected from a Mind, the Characteriſtics of which were refined Senſibility, and unbounded Benevolence? Though, as I cannot expreſs more than I believe you think, I will ſtop my Pen, by ſaying, that I truſt you will allow your own Wiſh, relative to the Snuff-Box, as a Plea for my ſo ſoon troubling you with another Letter, and that I remain, with due Reſpect,

SIR,
Your obliged and obedient humble Servant, Mrs. W—.
[215]

P. S. I thank you for the two Inſcriptions to the Memory of our amiable Friend. They would have been agreeable Companions to ſome of the ſame Turn already printed at the End of his Works, by Mr. DODSLEY. That which was wrote by CUNNINGHAM is poſſeſſed of genuine Elegance and Senſibility. I dare ſay you think ſo. Thoſe you have ſent, affect me in the ſame Manner; particularly the Proſe-Tribute, which you tell me came from a female Pen. I think I can gueſs the Writer, and would, when next I ſee her, challenge a Confeſſion, were I ſure I could do it without wounding her Delicacy of Feeling.

The Elegy I alſo admire much. The Thoughts of the Author are equally tender and benevolent with thoſe of the Friend, whoſe Memory he ſo pathetically laments. The laſt Lines of the ſecond Stanza particularly pleaſe me.

[216]

INSCRIPTION Alluded to in the foregoing Letter.

On the left Side
of the only Building I can call my own
is conſecrated
a Monument
to the Memory of
the belov'd and lamented
WILLIAM SHENSTONE.
'Tis form'd ſomething like an Urn,
nevertheleſs, of a Subſtance ſo ſoft,
that all his Virtues
were with Eaſe engraven on it,
yet ſo tenacious,
they never can be eras'd:
It is inſcrib'd, with Affection and Reſpect,
for the gentle and elegant Qualities
of which he was
the happy Poſſeſſor;
and ſtampt with the deepeſt Gratitude,
for the Honour he had conferr'd
by his kind and condeſcending Notice
of the
thereby-dignified Owner.

M. M—.

ELEGY Referred to in the foregoing Poſtſcript.

[217]
WHEN Muſic awakens the Grove,
Soft-breathing the paſtoral Note,
Ye Shepherds, who know how to love,
Be CORYDON never forgot!
Of Swains the moſt tender and kind,
Now low in the Duſt is he laid—
Ye, who knew not his elegant Mind,
Ah, me!—What a Loſs have ye had!
His Feelings were mild as the Air,
That pants on the Boſom of May;
His Truth as the Sun-Beam was clear,
And his Heart was as open as Day:
When a neighbouring Swain was in Grief,
His Wants he would gladly ſupply;
If his Acres deny'd the Relief,
Like him would he ſadden and ſigh.
His Verſe was the Pride of the Grove,
His Song to the Valley was dear,
And the Shepherd, who knows how to Love,
Still hallows his Name with a Tear.
[218]When the Village is folded in Sleep,
And Midnight invelopes the Skies,
The Muſes ſtill cluſter, ſtill weep,
O'er the Turf where our CORYDON lies.

LETTER LVI. R. G—, Eſq. to Mr. HULL.

Dear, &c.

I Received your Letter, and it has aſtoniſhed me, that you can be in the leaſt Degree hurt by the Opinion of narrow Minds. With Regard to the Grievance you complain of; let it be always a Matter of Conſolation to you, that the illiberal Treatment Actors may ſometimes meet with, on Account of their Profeſſion, can never proceed from any but illiberal Minds; 'tis the Cenſurers themſelves who become Objects of Contempt, when they would render you ſo, from that Conſideration merely: and this Reflection ought therefore to make you as indifferent to ſuch Inſtances of Ignorance and Ill-breeding, [219] as you would be to a Billingſgate Scold, or a St. Giles's Abuſe.

An Actor is a reſpectable Character, while he properly conſiders, and endeavours to preſerve the original Deſign of his Profeſſion; and I have ever been of Opinion, and am convinced of the Truth of the Maxim, that acting ſhould unqueſtionably be accepted among the Liberal Arts, even with this Advantage over Poetry and Painting, that it ſuperadds Example to Document and Delight. 'Tis the living Moral, while the others are but the dead Letter. The Stage is a School, and may be an uſeful one too—As ſuch it was patronized and cheriſhed by the wiſeſt and moſt virtuous States of Greece and Rome; and it has been the Fault of Managers, not of Actors, whenever Theatres have ceaſed to afford either Precept or Example.

There are ſo many Requiſites of Talents, Aſſiduity, and Perſon, to form a complete Actor, that even a moderate Degree of Excellence ſhould be deemed ſufficient Merit to entitle a Performer to the public Favour and Indulgence: to which, if an honeſt, decent [220] and unexceptionable Repute be joined, I can ſee no Sort of Reaſon, in the Nature or Diſtinction of Things, why the Sock and Buſkin ſhould not be admitted ad eundem with the Goif and Cowl; ſo that it muſt be the perſonal Character, and not the Dramatis Perſonae, that can ever debaſe your Profeſſion; in which Predicament, both the Parſon and the Lawyer ſtand equally with you.

But, indeed, the World, that illiberal Part of it which you hint at, are apt to conſider us Authors, alſo, in the ſame inferior Light they do Actors. I remember a Friend of mine, ſometime ago, was caſt off by his Father, for having publiſhed a very ingenious Poem, while he was a Student at the Temple; and another Acquaintance was ſeverely reproved by his Relations, for having married a Lady, every other Way worthy of his Choice, becauſe ſhe had written a Book.

Such curious Cenſors, I ſuppoſe, would deſpiſe the Meanneſs of my Spirit now, if I ſhould declare to them, that I would rather have been HOMER or VIRGIL, than ALEXANDER [221] or AUGUSTUS; and ROSCIUS the Actor, than the Tribune of the ſame Name; though the latter was a Sort of Manager, as may be proved by his having framed the Lex Roſcia, for the Regulation of the Theatre at Rome. But it might poſſibly reconcile them to me again, if I ſhould confeſs this common Foible of human Nature, at the ſame Time, that fond as I am of Fame, I would yet rather be even what I am myſelf now, than the beſt of them all then. This is ſome Sort of Qualification to the former Sentiment.

I ſhall here conclude my Letter to you, with intreating, that you will continue to defeat the Malice of ſuch ignorant Cenſors, by an uniform Attention to the Spirit and Utility of that Walk in Life, which either Fortune, or your own Choice, has led you into. Elevate your Creſt; take [...], for your Motto, and ſtudy the following Lines which this Subject has juſt brought to my Mind.

Pro Libitû imponunt peragendas Numina Partes.
Tu pulchré peragas; caetera mitte Deo.
[222]Si recté tractes, Laus eſt tractare ſecundas;
Summa etiam parvis gloria Rebus ineſt.
Explodam, CAESAR, malé ſi mandata loqueris,
Atque idem plaudam, ſi bené DAVUS agit.
Et vitam dubitamus adhuc extendere factis!
Tu meritis, ſi non Tempore, vive diu.
Ni facinus dignum tam Longo admiſſeris Aevo,
Dicetur, NESTOR, vel tua Vita brevis.
Quandocunque exis, ſit Cura exire decentèr,
Et plauſû exactum Turba coronet Opus.
UNDE NESCIO.

Farewel—Deſpiſe low-minded Cenſurers. The Drama ſubſiſts for the Propagation and Improvement of moral Virtue. Wiſe Men know this. Your Profeſſion has to you anſwered the deareſt and beſt Purpoſes—(You know whereto I allude)—Be grateful for the Benefits, and do not let Fools put you out of Conceit with it.

Yours affectionately, R. G—.

LETTER LVII.* Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

[223]
Dear Sir,

WHEN you undertook to be the Amanuenſis, as well as the Receiver-General to the agreeable Society I have left with ſo much Regret, I remember you charged me to write as ſoon as I ſhould reach this Place; I accordingly begin my Taſk, and am very happy to have an Opportunity of writing to you a good long Letter, without the Expence of Poſtage, which I have not the Vanity to ſuppoſe my Epiſtles deſerve; I ſend this by a pretty Sort of Man, whoſe Name is —, and who, I ſhould ſuppoſe, has ſome ſtrong Attachment in your County, which induces him to take ſo long a Journey at this rude Seaſon of the Year.

We were very fortunate in Weather, and found the Roads as good as the Nature of the [224] Country will allow them to be. Some Parts of Savoy is frightfully wild and dreary, other Parts very romantic and beautiful. I was vaſtly amuſed with the Manner of croſſing Mount Cenis: the Chair we are carried in, or rather on, reſemble a good deal a Chineſe Palanquin, only they want a Canopy over them; the Chairmen are certainly the beſt in the World, or it would be both dangerous and frightful; it ſeems to me, that they have the Strength of Mules, and the Agility of Goats, for they run down the Precipices, and bound from Rock to Rock, in a moſt aſtoniſhing Manner. The Aſcent of the Mountain is three Miles, on the Side of Savoy, the Plain on the Top, ſix Miles in Length, and the Deſcent on the Turin Side, ſix Miles more; we had four Men to each of the Ladies' Chairs, and ſix to the Gentlemen's, and after carrying us theſe fifteen dreadful Miles, they were quite delighted that our Party took them on from Novaleſe (a ſmall Town at the Foot of Mount Cenis) to Suſa, which is nine Miles further, and they carried us the laſt three Leagues in an Hour and a Half, laughing and jeſting with each other all the Way, as if they had been doing a Thing [225] merely for Sport and Amuſement; ſo you ſee, my dear Sir, how viſible the Goodneſs of Providence is to all Creatures; theſe poor Souls, who ſpend all their Lives in the utmoſt Indigence, and inhabit a Country that ſeems only fit for Savages, if they are denied the Luxuries of Life, are amply repaid, in the Enjoyment of a double Portion of Health and Strength.

We ſtopped a few Days at Lyons, Turin, Milan and Verona, and ſaw every Thing worthy a Stranger's Curioſity, in each of theſe fine Cities; nothing amuſed me more, than ſeeing a Parcel of Angels walking about the Streets of Milan, they were fine Cherry-cheek'd Boys, ready dreſſed for a grand Proceſſion that was preparing for the Day following, in Honour of the Virgin Mary's Birth-Day. Venice is a very magnificent Place, and poſſeſſes the Charm of Novelty in a much higher Degree than any of the other Places I have named; 'tis impoſſible to give a ſtronger Idea of it, 'tis in a Stile ſo peculiar to itſelf. The Maſking is begun, which is extremely entertaining: I ſhould be exceſſively happy to pop in amongſt [226] your dear Society ſome Day, when you are all aſſembled; I aſſure you, it would be no ſmall Surprize to ſee me in a Venetian Dreſs; it conſiſts of a long black ſilk Cloak, called here a Tabora, a Baouta, which is made of black Lace, three Quarters of a Yard long, and five Times as wide, and hangs about the Shoulders like a Petticoat; it has a Hood to it, which, when you chooſe to be concealed, covers the bottom Part of the Face to the upper Lip, the reſt is hid by a white Maſk, and the Women wear on their Heads a Man's Hat ſmartly cocked; the Venetian Women, who are rather maſculine in their Manner, look ſtill more ſo in this Dreſs.

We have had the Prince of Brunſwick here for ten Days, which made the Town all alive. I will deſcribe to you one of the Entertainments made for him, and that will ſerve as a Specimen of all the Reſt. Our Reſident had not got then into his Palace, (as it is juſtly called, for it is indeed a noble one) ſo that he could not make any Entertainments for the Prince, but he gave him ſome excellent Muſic one Morning in a private Manner, which [227] he ſeemed to enjoy the more for being ſo. The Night after his Highneſs's Arrival, Count DURAZZO, the Imperial Ambaſſador, invited all the Engliſh, the foreign Nobility that don't belong to Venice, and all the foreign Miniſters, to meet the Prince at Supper. The Ambaſſadreſs received her Gueſts with mingled Grace and Dignity, ſhe is really a fine Woman, and her Beauty was heightened by all the Elegance of Dreſs; ſoon after the Company were aſſembled, a moſt delightful Serenade began upon the Water, which was not only delightful to the Ear, but formed a very beautiful Object to the Sight, for the Muſicians were placed in a large open Barge finely illuminated; the Harmony drew around them an infinite Number of Gondolas belonging to the noble Venetians, who could no otherwiſe partake of this Feaſt; for by their Laws they are ſecluded from all Commerce with Strangers that are in a public Character. At proper Intervals of the Muſic, all Sorts of Refreſhments, of Ices, Fruits, Sweat-meats, Lemonades, &c. &c. were preſented to the Company, who, when they had liſtened to the Serenade for ſome Time, changed the Scene, either ſat down to Cards, or formed little chatting [228] Parties. When the Card-Tables broke up, a very elegant Concert, compoſed of a few choice Pieces of Muſic, performed by the very beſt Hands, agreeably filled up Time, till a moſt magnificent Supper was ſerved. When the Company roſe from Table, Coffee was brought, which is the Cuſtom here after Supper, as well as after Dinner; when this was over, a ſuperb Barge attended, in which the Prince, and all the Ladies, and a ſuitable Number of Gentlemen were placed, and rowed to St. Mark's (which is the only public Place here for walking) followed by the Muſic, the reſt of the Company in their Gondolas, and thoſe of the noble Venetians which the Harmony had attracted. After walking for ſome Time to enjoy the cool Air, the Company retired to a very elegant Apartment, which the Ambaſſadreſs has on the Place of St. Mark, where ſhe receives her Company, when ſhe chuſes to be in private. When we had chatted here for Half an Hour, it was found to be a proper Time to retire, as it was three o'Clock in the Morning; and ſo ended this agreeable Even, every Part of which was employed in ſome innocent Amuſement, without any Thing being hurried or confuſed. [229] I have been the more particular in this Account, that you may ſee, my good Friend, that Taſte and Elegance is no more wanting in Venice, than it is in the gay Metropolis of Britain.

I hope you will ſoon indulge me with a Letter, and that it will bring me a good Account of yourſelf, and every worthy Individual of our Friends in Friendſhip aſſembled; ſend it in a Frank to Mr. L—, in — Street, London, and he will put it in his Excellency's Packet: it muſt be but a ſingle Letter, but I hope it will contain a good deal. I long to hear that your good Mother is well re-eſtabliſhed in her Health, ſhe is a worthy Soul, and one cannot help wiſhing ſuch People to live for ever; I hope, my dear Friend, though ſuch a cruel Diſtance divides us, that I am not eſteemed the leſs a Member of the friendly Society, than if I was with you; I find the ſame Warmth of Affection towards the happy Circle, as if I was not an Abſentee, therefore beg you will give my beſt Affections to all the happy Members.

[230]I went the other Day to ſee the Ceremony of a Nun taking the laſt Veil, and 'tis very awful and melancholy, and, to ſpeak honeſtly and unprudiſhly, does not inſpire me with the leaſt Deſire to be a Nun: firſt, the divine Service is performed with very fine Muſic, both vocal and inſtrumental, in the Church of the Convent; then a little Door is opened in the Grate of the private Chapel, before which the Nun is ſeated on a Chair of State under a Canopy, with a Prayer-Book in her Hand, till the Service is finiſhed; ſhe then comes forward, and kneeling at the Grate, repeats to a Prieſt the Vows of the Order, and promiſes Obedience to the Abbeſs; ſhe then riſes, and the Nuns take off her white Veil, and put on a black one, after which ſhe kneels and ſays ſome Prayers: then ſix of the Siſters advance, and hold over her a purple Pall, whilſt Part of the Funeral-Service is read, during which Time ſhe is ſuppoſed to be dead; they then take away the purple Cloth, and the Abbeſs places on her Head a Crown richly ornamented with Jewels, to ſignify that ſhe dies to the World and riſes again to Glory; ſhe then receives [231] from the Prieſt a Tablet, with the Rules of the Order, which ſhe reads over and kiſſes; then, with the Tablet in one Hand, and a long wax Taper, ornamented with Wreaths of Flowers, in the other, ſhe walks ſlowly round the Chapel, followed by the reſt of the Nuns, and depoſits the Tablet on the Altar. Thus ends the melancholy Ceremony. This young Lady was very pretty, and not above ſeventeen; we all thought ſhe had an Appearance of great Conſtraint in her Chearfulneſs, but we were aſſured, it was entirely her Choice, that ſhe had a large Fortune, had buried her Father, and was Miſtreſs of herſelf; perhaps it may be the Taſte of the Family, for another Siſter profeſſed laſt Year in the ſame Convent.

As we are but juſt got to our new Habitation, you will eaſily ſuppoſe nobody is idle the Houſe, however I was determined I would not loſe ſo fair an Opportunity of writing to you, ſo hope you will excuſe ſo vile a Scrawl, and believe me, when I aſſure you, there is nothing more true, than that I am, my good Sir, ever moſt ſincerely and affectionately yours and the Society's,

S. N—.

LETTER LVIII. Miſs N—, to Mr. HULL.

[232]

MAY every Bleſſing of this chearful Seaſon await you, and every Individual of the happy Family and Friends you are with! May your Pleaſures be unmixed with Pain, and your Years numerous and happy!—Receive theſe fervent Wiſhes of an exiled Member of your worthy Society, and be aſſured, that though you are all Abſent from my Sight, you are ever preſent to my Mind. I wrote you a long Letter, near three Months ago, by an Iriſh Gentleman, who aſſured me, he ſhould be in your Part of the World as ſoon as the Poſt; when lo, and behold! three Weeks ago I heard of him at Sienna, where, I ſuppoſe, he will ſtay the Winter; therefore, as I am quite in the Dark, in Regard to the Fate of my unfortunate Epiſtle, I could not be eaſy till I had again ſet Pen to Paper, [233] to requeſt you will all continue to love me as I do you, which I aſſure you, my dear Sir, is with undiminiſhed Truth. I believe I told you in my laſt, how to forward a Letter to me, but for fear you have never received it, I will repeat it; if you can ſend it to any Friend in London, and get them to forward it by the Penny Poſt to Mr. L—, in — Street, he will encloſe it in the Secretary of State's Packet, by which Means, I ſhall be more certain of getting it ſafe, than by the Poſt, as well as that I ſhall receive it free.

I have a great Favour, my dear Sir, to beg of you, which is, that you will procure me a Piece of Information for the Uſe of our Reſident, in Regard to a young Gentleman who has been at Venice for ſome Time, and ſeems in no Hurry to leave it, owing, as we imagine, to an Attachment to a fair Venetian Lady; his Name is —, his Family, he ſays, is ſettled near F— in Somerſetſhire; he makes a genteel Appearance in Point of Fortune, and ſeems to be a modeſt, pretty behaved young Man, upon which Account, his Excellency wiſhes to ſhew him any Civility in his [234] Power; but, at the ſame Time, would be glad to be rightly informed, as to his Character and Family, before he receives him in an intimate Manner. I thought it was very probable, Mr. D— might know his Father. I have ſome Notion, I have heard the Name mentioned at Mr. B—'s; if, my dear Sir, you can procure me a particular Account of this young Hero, I ſhall eſteem it as a great Favour.

I am become wonderfully fond of the maſquing Dreſs, and am told, I wear it juſt as well as a Venetian; 'tis the moſt comfortable, warm, Walking-Dreſs that can be conceived; I have kept Houſe theſe laſt nine Days, becauſe it was prohibited, but to-morrow Maſquing begins again, and continues till Lent. I am told we had an Earthquake, but, thank God, I did not perceive it: ſince that, there had been very tempeſtuous Weather, and violent Snow and Rain, which, added to a high Tide, overflowed all the Canals, and I can't but ſay, at that Time Venice gave me a ſtrong Idea of the univerſal Deluge.

[235]There have been five Theatres open till within theſe nine Days, and I am told, in the Carnival there will be no leſs than ſeven. The comic Opera was very pleaſing, in Point of Muſic, and always crouded; but the ſerious Opera nobody could bear, though MANZOLI ſung in it, and TIBALDI, who is reckoned one of the beſt tenor Voices, if not the very beſt, now living. By this you will perceive how the Engliſh and Italian Taſte for Muſic differs; though I muſt ſay, I believe the greateſt Admirers of MANZOLI would allow he is much altered for the worſe; for my own Part, had I not remembered his Perſon, I ſhould not have had the leaſt Recollection of him from his Voice. The Theatre, he performed at, was entirely fitted up with Glaſs, both the Stage and all the Boxes, which, when well lighted, had a fine Effect. There was a Change of the Scenes for one of the Dances, that was, I think one of the moſt beautiful Things I ever beheld.

The Italian Comedy does not delight me much, for I do not underſtand the Language [236] well enough yet, to be amuſed with the Bonmots of HARLEQUIN, and to laugh at him becauſe he has a black Face, and at PANTALOON, merely for having a long Beard; it is not what I feel myſelf much diſpoſed to do. I underſtand the Italian Tragedies better than the Comedies, but I find the Actors infinitely below ours. I intend to be very ſtudious, and when all the Family are gadding to the Opera and the Play, I ſhall ſit at home and drudge at the Italian, and this for many good Reaſons, but chiefly to acquit myſelf of my chief Promiſe to you.

We have, at preſent, a ſecond Edition of the Prince of Brunſwick, who has been at Venice a Week, but on Monday next he leaves us entirely. This Time he has ſpent moſt of his leiſure Hours with our Reſident, and expreſſes great Pleaſure in being received on an intimate and eaſy Footing; he is really a very ſenſible and agreeable Man, and as far as can be judged from outward Appearance, is very amiable: he has with him two young German Barons, who are alſo very pretty Kind [237] of Men, and ſpeak Engliſh ſo well, that it is a Comfort to hear them.

My Brother deſires me to preſent his beſt Reſpects to you, and I hope my dear nominal Uncle will always be mindful to ſay for me to the dear Society every Thing that is kind, grateful, and affectionate.

My Vanity will not ſuffer me to paſs over in Silence a Conqueſt that I am told I have certainly made, of an Italian Count, who is here in a public Character; he is not quite ſixty, his Figure and Complexion exactly reſembles a very bad, long, thin Tallow-Candle; he is much bedaubed with Spaniſh Snuff, and on meagre Days ſo overcomes one with Garlick, that it is dreadful; except theſe little Accidents, he is a moſt agreeable Companion, for he is very ſenſible, very religious, very philoſophic, extremely polite, and his Converſation is both inſtructive and amuſing. Now, my good Friend, from the Picture I have drawn, would you not think I was in ſome Danger of loſing my Heart, but that luckily [238] my amiable Count is a bigotted Roman Catholic, and I an obſtinate Heretick?

We may give ourſelves what Airs we pleaſe about our Engliſh Liberty, but for the Ladies, Italy is undoubtedly the Land of perfect Freedom; to all public Places, they conſtantly go in Pairs, with their Cavalier Serventes, and put me much in Mind of the clean and unclean Beaſts going into the Ark. What would become of the Reputation of a miſerable Engliſh Woman, if ſhe was to go to the Play with a Man tête-à-tête? And yet that is conſtantly done here without Imputation of Wrong—In ſhort, if a Woman has any Mind to be wicked, Venice ſeems to be the laſt Place in the World to give her better Sentiments.

How delighted ſhould I be to ſurprize the dear Society, ſome Night or other, when you are over your ſober Game of Quadrille, in my white Maſque and Man's Hat; you have no Notion with what an Air I have learnt to put it over my right Eye. I will not deſpair but that we may again meet happily under that hoſpitable Roof, where for ſome [239] Weeks, in the Enjoyment of ſuch friendly Converſation, I taſted more real Happineſs and Peace than I ever experienced before or ſince in my whole Life. I did not know, before I had the melancholy Experience of it, how very irkſome and painful a Feel it is, to be ſo very far from thoſe we truly regard. Adieu! my dear Friends, may Heaven ſhower upon you all its choiceſt Bleſſings, is the ſincere and conſtant Prayer of your ever faithful and affectionate

S. N—.

LETTER LIX. Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

THE only Taſk you enjoined me on leaving England, is, perhaps, the moſt difficult you could have exacted from me; nevertheleſs, I am reſolved to attempt it; for, however you may be diſappointed in my Performance, I ſhall, at leaſt, have the Satisfaction [240] of proving, that I chearfully obey any Command of yours, and though ſurrounded with Difficulties, I enter upon the Performance of my Promiſe with Courage; well knowing, from the Candour of your Diſpoſition, that you will accept of an earneſt Deſire on my Part to gratify your laudable Curioſity, in Lieu of greater Abilities for ſuch an Undertaking.

I am not ſurpriſed, that a Perſon of your ſpeculative Turn ſhould feel an earneſt Deſire to be made acquainted with ſome Particulars relative to the wiſe and complicated Government of the Republic of Venice; it juſtly merits the Attention of the ſenſible and curious Part of Mankind, were it only to diſcover by what Means it has been preſerved nearly in the ſame State, for ſuch a Number of Ages; but it is hardly poſſible to arrive with Certainty at this Knowledge; for there is no Subject the Venetians are ſo tenacious of converſing upon as Politicks, profound Secrecy being the great Engine on which this very ſingular Government turns. I find one muſt not depend too much on the Accounts of thoſe who have written upon the Subject, for after allowing [241] the utmoſt to their Integrity and Induſtry, they muſt have been often liable to Miſinformation, beſides the unavoidable Change that Time naturally produces in all ſublunary Things. I have now lying before me a Hiſtory of the Republic, by AMELOT DE LA HOUSSAI, one by ST. DISDIER, and another by the ABBÉE LANGIER, of a much later Date; and I ſhall freely tranſcribe from theſe Authors, in as ſuccinct a Manner as poſſible, all ſuch Paſſages as coincide with the preſent State of Things: but the moſt pleaſing Aſſiſtant I promiſe myſelf is, Mr. SMITH, who has been ſettled in this City a great Number of Years, and was formerly the Britiſh Conſul; he is now retired from Buſineſs, and devotes his Time to the Study and Encouragement of the polite Arts, of which he is a liberal Protector; he is, at preſent, appointed Chargé d'Affaires, by our Court, till the Arrival of Sir JAMES WRIGHT, who ſucceeds the preſent Ambaſſador at Conſtantinople in the Reſidentſhip of Venice. I am ſorry the new Miniſter is not expected during my Stay here, for, as I am told, he has ſpent ſome Time in this Capital, when upon his Travels in a private [242] Character. Under his Auſpices, I might, perhaps, with more Eaſe, have purſued my Reſearches. Mr. SMITH is an intelligent, ſenſible Man, and preſerves, in a very advanced Age, a Degree of Politeneſs, Vivacity and Good-Humour, rarely to be met with, which renders his Converſation as pleaſing as it is inſtructive. This Gentleman is married to the Siſter of Mr. MURRAY, the late Reſident, a very amiable Woman; their Houſe is open every Evening to the Engliſh, in the moſt eaſy, agreeable Manner, where I have infinite Pleaſure in talking over, in a polite chearful Circle, the Virtù that has engaged my Attention in the Morning; but through this Correſpondence, I ſhall not prophane my favourite Subject, by introducing it with the dry one, your Curioſity has led me to.

As ST. DISDIER is my favourite Writer on the State of Venice, I ſhall begin with his Account of the Origin of this City, but muſt firſt endeavour to make you acquainted with the Lagunes, (or Lakes) which I look upon to be the great Sources of Health and Pleaſure, to the Venetians, as well as the Means [243] by which all their Wants are ſupplied; nothing can be more delicious, than the Airings the Nobility take on theſe Lakes during the Summer Seaſon, ſometimes attended with a Barge filled with Muſicians, and often tête-à-tête with their Ciciſbeo, in a Gondola, which is an eaſy and luxurious Conveyance. The Lagunes are formed by a ſtrong Bank of Sand, at the Entrance of the Gulph, which extends from South to Weſt about thirty-ſix Miles, and is about ſix Hundred Feet in Breadth; the Sea, having broke through the Bank in ſix different Places, has covered with Water all the low Land for ſeven or eight Miles, leaving a Number of ſmall Iſlands, upon which are built the Towns of the Lagunes. The ſix Paſſages abovementioned, are the only Ports by which Veſſels can approach to Venice. Firſt, that of Brondolo, to the South; ſecondly, Chioſa, (an epiſcopal City;) thirdly, Malamocco; fourthly, Lido, (oppoſite to the Eaſt Point of Venice;) fifthly, St. Eraſmus, and ſixthly, the three Ports; by this laſt, only the ſmall fiſhing Barks can paſs.

[244]In the Year 407, the Goths, under the Command of RADAGAISUS, having broke like a Torrent into Italy, put all the Inhabitants to the Sword, who attempted to oppoſe their Fury; the People who were ſituated near the Lagunes (I have above deſcribed) found no Aſylum ſo ſecure as thoſe maritime Iſles, the moſt Part of which were only inhabited by Fiſhermen: here the Fugitives remained in Safety, until the Generals, ſent by the Emperor HONORIUS, (having defeated the Barbarians) left the affrighted Wanderers at Liberty to return to the Terra Firma. In the Year 413, the horrible Ravages committed by the Viſigoths, under ALARICK, made the ſame People a ſecond Time ſeek their former Retreat; and as theſe Invaders ſtaid longer in Italy than thoſe led by RADAGAISUS, the Fugitives began to build themſelves comfortable Habitations on theſe Iſlands. The Paduans, to whom theſe Iſles belonged, had a Port at that of Rialto, (now called Venice) and the Senate having reſolved to make it a conſiderable Place, not only by Way of Aſylum for their Subjects, but alſo to ſecure their Trade by Sea, ſent, in the Year 441, three Conſuls, who proclaimed it a free Port, ſo that in a [245] ſhort Time it was peopled, not only by thoſe who retired to the Iſlands for Safety, but by many Perſons of all Ranks, who left the Terra Firma to ſettle there. The third Undertaking of the Barbarians, under ATTILA, King of the Huns, threatened Italy with total Deſolation; that Scourge of the Almighty, as he was juſtly denominated, having cauſed Germany, France, and Italy, to be laid Waſte, returned in the Year 453 a ſecond Time into the laſt-named Country, and deſtroyed Pavia, Milan, Padua, Aquilea, and many other great Towns, the miſerable Remains of whoſe Inhabitants finiſhed the Peopling not only of Rialto, but all the other Iſles of the Lagunes; and entertaining no Hope of returning to their ruined Cities, they cauſed to be tranſported from the Terra Firma, Marble, and other Materials of their demoliſhed Palaces; ſo that, in the Space of about fifty Years, not only the People of Rank, but even the Artizans, were conveniently lodged. Padua being at length re-eſtabliſhed, and ſeeing Rialto become conſiderable, by the Number of its Inhabitants, the Senate thought proper to ſend Conſuls to govern the People, with ſome Appearance of Authority; [246] but in Time the richeſt and moſt powerful of the Inhabitants of theſe Iſles got themſelves declared Protectors of the People, with the Title of Tribunes. In the Year 709, the Tribunes of the twelve moſt conſiderable Iſlands of the Lagunes, judging it neceſſary to have a better Form of Government, reſolved to compoſe a Republic, and to elect a proper Perſon from among themſelves to be their Chief or Prince; but as they knew they had no Right to take this Step againſt the Will of the Paduans, to whom they were indebted for the Place of their Reſidence, they ſent an Ambaſſy to the Emperor LEO, who was Sovereign of the whole Country, and to Pope JOHN the Fifth, to obtain their Permiſſion to elect a Prince, to whom they gave the Title of Doge. PAOLO LUCE ANAFESTE, the firſt Duke of Venice, was elected 288 Years after Rialto was proclaimed a free Port by the Paduans. This Election was made at Ereclea, a Town of the Lagunes, in the Year 709; at this Place, the firſt three Doges reſided. Theſe Princes ruled with abſolute Power till 1172, when, upon the Election of SEBASTIAN ZIANI, the Form of Government became democratical, and [247] continued ſo till 1289, when the Doge, PIETRO GRADENIGO, found Means to change it to an Ariſtocracy; this he effected by getting a Decree paſſed in the Quarantia Criminale, that all thoſe who had compoſed the great Council for four Years, ſhould be ballotted for in that Chamber of Juſtice, and ſuch of them who had twelve Balls in their Favour, and who attended the Council on a certain Day, at an appointed Hour, ſhould have their Names written in a Book, called Il Libro d'Oro, and that they and their Deſcendants ſhould form the great Council forever. As this Intrigue was managed with much Secrecy, none had Notice to attend, but thoſe whom the Doge and his Party approved of, or who had Friends in the Quarantia. When this choſen Number were aſſembled, at the Ringing of a Bell, the Doors were locked, and no more ſuffered to enter. This the Venetians call ‘"Il Serrar del Canſiglio,"’ and is one of the moſt remarkable Epochas of their Government: though this Step wreſted all Share of the Adminiſtration out of the Hands of the Citizens, and unjuſtly deprived ſome Families of their Title to Nobility, yet it was owing to this Event, [248] that the Republic eſtabliſhed a more perfect Form of Government than ſhe before enjoyed, and which continues, with very little Change, to this Day. BAYAMONTE TIEPOLI, the Head of one of the moſt antient Families of the Republic, joined the Quirini, and ſome other illuſtrious Perſons, in a Conſpiracy to ſacrifice the Doge to their Reſentment, for this Innovation; but all the Conſpirators periſhed in the Enterpriſe, and this Attempt only occaſioned freſh Regulations, which more ſecurely eſtabliſhed the new Form of Government.

Accept of thus much, by Way of Introduction to a Sketch of the preſent State of the Republic of Venice, and in my next, I ſhall have the Honour to introduce you to SUA SERENITA, the Doge, but at preſent the Poſt will only allow me Time to aſſure you how ſincerely I am

Yours, &c. &c.

LETTER LX. Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

[249]

I Promiſed in my laſt to introduce you to the Doge of Venice, and I think you will agree with me, that his Serenity is a very uncomfortable Being. Since the Period of Il Serrar del Conſiglio, his Power has gradually decreaſed. A Procurator of St. Mark is generally elected Prince, who has ſerved the Republic in expenſive Embaſſies, or in the firſt Offices of the State. Although he has the Name of Sovereign, the Power remains with the Senate; and having little Influence in the Affairs of the State, great Wiſdom is by no Means an eſſential Recommendation to this high Rank; an advanced Age, an eaſy Diſpoſition, and illuſtrious Birth, are the Qualifications chiefly ſought for in the Doge; his Children, Grand-Children, and Brothers are diſqualified from holding any conſiderable [250] Employment connected with Government during his Reign. His Wife was formerly treated en Princeſſe, and crowned with great Magnificence, but that cuſtom is now exploded; however, ſhe ſtill retains the Title of Dogereſſa. Though the Doge preſides at all the Councils, he is only acknowledged Head of the Senate, at the Tribunals, and in the Palace of St. Mark. He cannot leave the City without the previous Leave of his Counſellors; he is allowed no Marks of Diſtinction in his Dreſs or Equipage when he makes private Viſits, or leaves the City, except that his Family are ſuffered to uſe Gold or Silver Lace on their Liveries, and in the Ornaments of their Box at the Theatre; and the Ladies wear rich coloured Cloaths at public Feſtivals, when the Pragmatica obliges the other noble Venetians to appear in black. Upon public Occaſions, his Serenity generally wears a Veſt and Ducal Mantle of Brocade of Gold or Silver, lined with Ermine, a Cap of Crimſon Velvet, with a Border of Gold, to repreſent the Diadem, and under it a ſhort Hood of Gauze, and Shoes of Crimſon Damaſk. The Sword of State is carried after the Prince, and [251] at the Head of the Seignory, to ſhew where the real Power is lodged. A folding Chair, with a gilt Frame, and a Seat of Brocade, with a Stool of the ſame to ſet his Foot on, and a large Pariſole of Gold Stuff, are carried with the Doge in all public Proceſſions, and they pretend that this Regalia was preſented to the famous SEBASTIAN ZIANI by Pope ALEXANDER the Third, in acknowledgment of the Protection he received from the Republic, when oppreſſed by the Emperor FREDERICK the Second. The Doge has the Title of Serenity and Serene Prince, but to ſhew that they are not attached to his Perſon alone, Ambaſſadors uſe them in his Abſence in addreſſing the College. Though all Diſpatches are written in the Name of the Prince, and the Anſwers addreſſed to him, yet he cannot open them without the Members of the College being preſent, whereas they can open, and even anſwer them, without his being preſent; and to ſhew that his Power and Influence is merely imaginary, the Senate neither propoſe any Queſtion, or take any Reſolution, till he and his Counſellors are withdrawn; they then examine the Affairs under Debate, take the Advice of [252] the Savi, and prepare their Deliberations in Writing, to be carried to the firſt Meeting of the Senate, where the Doge and his Counſellors are preſent, who have a Voice to approve or diſapprove in common with the other Senators. The Venetian Money bears the Name of the Doge, and was formerly ſtamped as his Coin, when the Power of the Prince was abſolute; at preſent is ſubſtituted the Figure of a Man in the Ducal Habit on his Knees before St. Mark, to ſhew that the Doge is ſubject to the Republic, of which St. Mark is the Hieroglyphic. The Income of the Prince is fourteen thouſand Ducats per Annum, (which amounts to about two thouſand Pounds ſterling) to maintain his Family, and to defray the Expence of treating the Seignory four Times a Year. The foreign Ambaſſadors, who have made their public Entry, have a Right to be at theſe Feaſts. The Republic pay all the Officers who attend the Prince on public Occaſions: he has the Power of ſelling the different Employments of the Palace, in which, and collating the Benefices of St. Mark, conſiſt the principal Emoluments of his Dignity.

[253]When the Doge dies, his Body is embalmed, and expoſed for three Days on a Bed of State, in an Apartment of the Palace deſtined for that Purpoſe. This Expoſition is not only to give the People an Opportunity to pay the laſt Honours to their Prince, but alſo to give the Senate Time to receive any Complaints againſt his Adminiſtration, and to give his Creditors Leiſure to make their Demands on his Heirs, which if they refuſe to ſatisfy, he is deprived of funeral Honours at the Expence of the Republic: for this Reaſon, on the Death of a Doge, three Inquiſitors are appointed to ſearch into his paſt Conduct, to hear all Complaints, and to ſatisfy all Demands at the Expence of the Succeſſion. The Nobles who aſſiſt at the Funeral, are dreſſed in Scarlet Robes, to ſhew that it is not the Government of the Prince that cauſes the Happineſs of the State, and that the Republic being free, ought not to ſhew any Marks of Affliction at his Death. The Obſequies are no ſooner over, than all the Nobles, who are more than thirty Years of Age, aſſemble in the great Council-Chamber, and elect five Correctors, [254] who inſpect the Book of Statutes that the Doge, on his Election, ſwears to obſerve. Theſe five Noblemen have a Right to add to, or to retrench from theſe Statutes, whatever they think neceſſary for the Good of the State. The Ballotation upon this Occaſion is managed with ſo much Caution, that it is impoſſible for any Thing but Chance to decide which ſhall be the forty-one Senators choſe out of the whole Number to elect a Succeſſor to the deceaſed Prince. When theſe Electors have been approved by the general Council, they are ſhut up in the Palace of St. Mark, and not ſuffered to ſtir out until the Election is over; twenty-five of the forty-one Voices muſt be in Favour of the Perſon that is choſen. The firſt Thing required of the Doge is, to ſwear to the Obſervance of the Book of Statutes. He then ſhews himſelf to the People, and in going out of the Palace for that Purpoſe, paſſes through the Chamber in which his Body is to be expoſed after his Death, and there he receives from the Grand Chancellor the firſt Compliments on his new Dignity. He then gets into a Machine, not unlike a great Tub, and two hundred Men, who belong to [255] the Arſenal, carry him by Turns round the Place of St. Mark on their Shoulders. The Doge thus ſeated, one of his Children, or ſome near Relation, ſtands behind him, holding two Baſons filled with Money, which he diſtributes among the Populace.

Having killed one Prince, and proclaimed another, I think I may decently take my Leave for the preſent; and ſhould you be as tired with reading, as I am with writing, you will wiſh you had never heard of his Serenity. I hope you will think my next more intereſting, which will treat of the different Councils of Venice.

Addio
ſempre ſuo, &c.

LETTER LXI. Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

[256]

HAVING in my laſt diſpatched his Serenity the Doge, I now proceed with Alacrity to give you an Account of the Councils, of which, according to AMELOT DE LA HOUSSAIE, there are three principal; the great one, which comprehends all the Nobility; the College, which gives Audience to Ambaſſadors; and the Pregadi, which is the Senate. The Great-Council meets every Sunday and Holiday to chuſe Magiſtrates, which is done by Ballotation. The Nobles have no Right to enter into it, until they are twenty-five Years old, but the Seignory diſpenſe ſometimes with their being under Age. This Aſſembly has a Right of confirming or annulling the Decrees of the Senate, and to make or repeal Laws. The moſt remarkable ſtanding Laws are theſe, viz. that all Eccleſiaſtics are [257] excluded from every civil Employment and public Aſſembly. The Nobles cannot arrive at the principal Offices, but by Gradation; nor can they hold more than one Office at once, be it ever ſo ſmall. Thoſe who refuſe any Employment, are fined two thouſand Ducats, and baniſhed for two Years from the Great Council and Broglio; (this Name they give to an Apartment under the Procuratia Nuova, where the Noblemen meet in a Morning, and thoſe who are trying to attain any Place in the Government, uſe this Opportunity to ſolicit the Votes of their Friends for their Ballotation in the Great Council.) No Magiſtrate can reſign, or leave the City. All the Sons of the Nobility have equal Portions: if a Daughter has more than five thouſand Ducats, (about ſix hundred Pounds ſterling) ſhe receives the Income of the Overplus for her own ſeparate Uſe, and if ſhe dies without Children, it returns to her Family. All Subjects of the Republic (the Doge not excepted) pay Taxes in Proportion to their Fortune. The Magiſtrates in civil Cauſes can receive no Viſits or Recommendation of the Parties, but may in criminal ones, if they are not State [258] Affairs. No Nobleman can enter into Trade. The Great Council corrects all public Errors, and redreſſes all Grievances impoſed by thoſe who uſe their Authority unlawfully, ſo that this may be called the firſt Tribunal, and the Baſis, as well as Support of the Republic.

To gratify the young Nobility, they admit thirty by Lot every Year into the Great Council, who are only twenty Years of Age, and allow them the ſame Privileges as thoſe who are twenty-five; theſe young ones are called Barbarini, becauſe they are choſen on the Day of St. BARBARA. This Aſſembly ſits from eight in the Morning until Noon; it is held in the largeſt Room of the Palace: at the upper End are raiſed Seats, on which the Doge and his Counſellors are placed. The Chief of the Council of Ten, the Avogadores and the Cenſors are ſeated round the Hall, upon raiſed Benches. The Counſellors of the Doge can convoke, at Pleaſure, the Great Council, and for this Purpoſe they cauſe the Bells of the principal Churches in the ſix Quarters of the Town to be rung, and at this Signal, the Nobles attend the Council without [259] Arms, which they are forbid to carry there on Pain of Death.

When AMELOT DE LA HOUSSAIE wrote his Hiſtory of the Republic of Venice, the Nobles were computed at five and twenty Hundred; but they now fall very ſhort of that Calculation. The Great Council uſually conſiſts of about eight hundred, and nearly the ſame Number is ſuppoſed to be employed in the Provinces, on Embaſſies, and other public Services; or, for private Reaſons, are not in a Situation to attend in Council.

THE COLLEGE.

THE College is formed of twenty-ſix Members, viz. The Doge and his ſix Counſellors, three of the Quarantia Criminale, (who are changed every two Months) ſix Savi Grandi, five of the Savi of the Terra Firma, and the five Savi of Order. The College has the Right of aſſembling the Senate, and propoſing what is to be debated therein; but yet they muſt obey its Reſolutions, and act in [260] Concert with it. At this Tribunal the Majeſty of the Prince may be ſaid to reſide, for here the Ambaſſadors have their Audience, all Letters upon foreign Affairs are read, all Memorials are preſented, and all Privileges, in Regard to Benefices, Prelates, &c. &c. are pleaded. In ſhort, this is the Committee of Ways and Means, where all Buſineſs is firſt planned, in order to be laid before the Senate for their Concurrence.

THE SENATE.

THE Senate had formerly the Name of Pregadi given to it, becauſe it then never aſſembled but upon extraordinary Occaſions; and the Magiſtrates were obliged to requeſt the Attendance of the principal Citizens, when any important Affair required their Advice. This Aſſembly now meets every Wedneſday and Friday, and, upon an Emergency, the Savi for the Week can call an extraordinary Pregadi. This Tribunal poſſeſſes all the Authority of the Republic, for here all Reſolutions concerning Peace and War are taken, all Leagues [261] and Alliances are made, Ambaſſadors and alſo Officers who have conſiderable Rank in the Army are nominated, and all Taxes are impoſed according to the Exigency of Affairs. The Conſultations of the College are here examined and determined by a Plurality of Voices. This Inſtitution in its Commencement was only compoſed of ſixty Senators, called an ordinary Pregadi; but being often obliged, in Caſes of Importance, to add to the Number, ſixty more were created, called the Junto: theſe hundred and twenty Senators are always Noblemen of advanced Age and approved Merit. The Members of the College, the Council of Ten, the Quarantia Criminale, the Procurators of St. Mark, with moſt Part of the Magiſtrates, enter alſo into the Pregadi, ſo that it now conſiſts of near three hundred Members, one Part whereof have a Right to vote, the reſt can only hearken and learn the Rules of Government. The Doge and his Counſellors are the only Perſons whoſe Advice can be ballotted, to prevent the Confuſion that would probably ariſe from a Diverſity of Opinions, as half the Votes muſt be in Favour of the Queſtion before it can paſs. Thoſe who have no [262] Right to vote, may harangue and contradict the Opinions propoſed. The hundred and twenty, who compoſe the ordinary Pregadi and Junto, are ballotted every Year in the Great Council, to be changed or continued, as ſhall be determined in the ſaid Council. The Senate is particularly attentive in maintaining Harmony among the Nobles; well knowing, that a contrary Behaviour might be productive of fatal Conſequences to the Liberty of the Country, as was formerly the Caſe with Florence and Verona.

The COUNSELLORS of the DOGE.

THE Counſellors of the Doge (or more properly of the Signory) are ſix in Number, they are choſen from amongſt the oldeſt Senators of the firſt Rank; though they are Counſellors for a Year, they only aſſiſt in the College eight Months; the other four Months they preſide in the Quarantia Criminale, in the ſame Manner as the Chiefs of that Chamber have places in the College during two Months. Theſe ſix Counſellors have more Power than the Doge; [263] their Employment is two-fold: firſt, they are obliged to conſult with the Doge upon all Matters that are to be propoſed in the Councils, to open all Letters directed to the Signory, to receive Petitions, and to appoint Judges to ſettle any Diſpute which may ariſe about Juriſdiction; and ſecondly, to preſide at all Councils, and, during an Interregnum, to diſpatch Orders to all the Officers of the State. When the Doge is ill, the moſt antient of the Counſellors repreſent him in the College, and at all public Functions: but he is neither allowed to ſit in the ducal Chair, or wear the Habit of the Prince, and is only diſtinguiſhed by a Cap which he never takes off, no more than the Doge does his ducal Crown. The Counſellors, whilſt in Office, wear ſcarlet Gowns.

As I ſhall, in my next, introduce you to a Tribunal ſo awful, that the bare Name makes thouſands tremble, I ſhall allow myſelf ſome Reſpite for the preſent, and endeavour to loſe the Idea of theſe dry intricate Subjects in the more pleaſing ones of Virtù.

[264]You will excuſe my breaking off thus, when I tell you, that my Gondola now waits to carry me to a dilletanti Party, with whom I am going to examine the famous Marriage of PAOLO VERONESE, at the Convent of St. George. It ſo rarely happens, that our Pleaſures in the Enjoyment equal the Vivacity of our Expectation, I almoſt fear I promiſe myſelf too much on this Occaſion; but if this celebrated Piece deſerves half the Encomiums that are beſtowed upon it, my Delight will be exquiſite: I heartily wiſh you could be a Partaker of it.

Farewel.

LETTER LXII. Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

[265]

I Promiſed, in my laſt, to introduce you to the moſt tremendous Tribunal, that, perhaps, ever poor Culprits trembled before, if we view it in its original State: but I think all the ſenſible People, I have converſed with in Venice, agree, that it is ſomewhat relaxed, from its primitive Severity, though ſtill to be dreaded for the Extent of Power, the Inquiſitors of State are entruſted with.

The INQUISITION.

THIS Tribunal is compoſed of two of the Council of Ten, and one of the Counſellors of the Doge. As the Affairs, that fall under the Cognizance thereof are of the utmoſt Conſequence to the State, depending chiefly upon certain Intelligences collected by Spies, ſo all their Proceedings are managed with the deepeſt Secrecy; and, in ſome Caſes, they are obliged [266] to uſe Severity, and to puniſh Offenders in a very exemplary Manner, The Life of the Doge, the Nobles, and all the Subjects of the State, lie at the Mercy of this Tribunal, provided the three Inquiſitors entirely concur in Opinion; and in this Caſe, they are not obliged to give an Account of their Actions to any one, or even communicate them to the Council of Ten. The Execution of the Sentences pronounced by theſe Judges is not leſs ſecret than their Judgments, except when the Crime is of a public Nature: in private Caſes, to prevent Exclamations againſt ſuch ſeeming Severity, as often puniſhes with Death an unguarded Expreſſion againſt ſo rigorous a Government, (it is ſaid) they ſend in the Night, and have the Offender ſeized, and pronounce his Doom, without any other Ceremony, than confronting him with two Witneſſes, if there are any, or elſe, on the bare Report of Spies. As many Inconveniencies have ariſen from this deſpotic Method of Proceeding, a Law has been provided, that the Inquiſitors ſhall not put to Death a noble Venetian, without firſt hearing his Defence. If a Stranger of any Conſequence becomes ſuſpected by this Tribunal, [267] he muſt expect to loſe his Papers, and receive an Order, ſigned by one of the Inquiſitors, requiring him to leave the State within a limited Time, on Pain of Death. As the Venetian Nobility, of every Claſs, are forbid to hold any Sort of Correſpondence with Ambaſſadors, or foreign Miniſters, or even with the meaneſt Perſon in their Families, it is for this Intent, that the Spies of the Inquiſitors are particularly vigilant in collecting Matter of Complaint.

Harſh as the Proceedings of this Tribunal muſt appear to Engliſhmen, who are bleſſed with the happieſt Form of Government, the ſenſible and unprejudiced MONTESQUIEU aſſerts, that it has often ſaved the Republic of Venice from total Deſtruction.

The COUNCIL OF TEN.

THIS was orignally, a mere temporary Chamber of Juſtice, appointed to enquire into the famous Conſpiracy of TIEPOLI: but was ſoon after made perpetual, and is now one of the [268] moſt reſpectable Tribunals of the Republic; it takes Cognizance of all the criminal Affairs among the Nobility, that happen in the City, or State of Venice, and judges Crimes of Leze Majeſté, and all other attrocious Offences. This Council has the Care of the public Tranquility, and their Power is as much to be dreaded by the Nobles, as by the common People. The Doge and his Counſellors have a Right to enter this Chamber of Juſtice; but the ten Senators, of whom it is compoſed, have not leſs Power in the Abſence of the Doge, than when he is preſent: they are choſen out of different Families, and are elected in the Great Council every Year; they then elect three among themſelves to be the Head of the Councils; theſe rule Week about, and are changed every three Months. The Chief in Office receives all Informations from Spies, and reports them to his Colleagues, who, upon the Depoſition of Witneſſes, and the Anſwers of the accuſed, proceed againſt them before the Council, where the Offender is not allowed to plead for himſelf perſonally, or by Lawyer. The armed Galley that always lies at St. Mark's Place, and ſome Cannon and Gallies at the Arſenal, [269] are under the Command of the Council of Ten. They meet only once a Week, unleſs ſome Affair of Importance calls them oftener together.

The QUARANTIA CRIMINALE.

THERE are three Courts of Juſtice, that conſiſt each of forty Judges; the firſt of theſe is the moſt antient Tribunal of the Republic, but it has ſuffered a great Diminution of Power by the Eſtabliſhment of the Council of Ten. The forty Judges of the upper Chamber have a Right to vote in the Senate; and the three Chiefs, who are Preſidents, have likewiſe Seats in the College, during the two laſt Months they are in Office; and three of the Counſellors of the Doge preſide in the Quarantia Criminale, the four laſt Months of their Year, to ſhew the Connexion there is between this Chamber and the College. This Office is generally filled by Noblemen who are not rich; they receive thirty Ducats per Month by it, and acquire Conſideration among the Nobility. To arrive at this Chamber, they muſt paſs through the [270] other Quarantias firſt, which are much inferior in Authority. Beſides theſe, there are many other lower Courts of Juſtice that take Cognizance of mercantile Affairs, Bankruptcies, &c. &c. It is worthy of Obſervation, in this wiſe and intricate Government, how all the ſuperior Tribunals are interwoven with, and, if I may uſe the Expreſſion, germinate from, each other.

SAVI GRANDI.

THESE Magiſtrates are ſix in Number; they are choſen from among the wiſeſt of the Senators, and, during the Time they are in office, manage all political Affairs of Importance, and are, properly ſpeaking, prime Miniſters: they are elected by the Senate, and changed every ſix Months, three at a Time, by which Means, there remain three old Senators in Office, who are able to inform the new elected ones, of what happened during their Adminiſtration, and ſerves as a model for the future Conduct of the new Miniſters.

[271] SAVI of the TERRA FIRMA.

THESE five Officers of the State have little leſs Authority in the College than the Savi Grandi; they are the ſame Length of Time in Office, are choſen of a leſs advanced Age, and are preferred according to their Application, and the Abilities they have ſhewn in the Offices they muſt neceſſarily have paſſed through to arrive at this. The firſt, or Savi Caſhier, is Pay-Maſter; the ſecond, Savi degli Scritura, Secretary at War, and the third, Savi of the Ordinance, has the Direction of the Military of the Terra Firma; the other two are only to aſſiſt the three firſt. They are elected by the Senate, as the Savi Grandi, and have a Right to vote on every Motion, which may be propoſed by them; but, to preſerve a Subordination between the two Offices, have no Right to vote in the Senate.

SAVI of ORDER.

THIS Magiſtracy is the ſame in Number as the Savi of the Terra Firma, but is without [272] Juriſdiction, and is only a School, as it were, wherein the young Nobility may learn the Art of Government. Theſe Noblemen, during the ſix Months they are in Office, aſſiſt at all the Conſultations of the College, and conſequently have a Share in the Secrets of State; they have no Right to vote either in the College or Senate, but may give their Opinion at the Conſultations of the Savi, always ſpeaking uncovered and ſtanding. They are allowed to ſee all the Diſpatches that are ſent to Ambaſſadors, and the Regiſters of the Affairs of State. This Employment is looked upon by the Republic, as the Touchſtone of the Character and Genius of their young Nobility.

PROCURATORS of ST. MARK.

THIS Honour is generally beſtowed on ſuch of the Nobility who have been of eſſential Service to their Country in expenſive Embaſſies, in a naval Command, or for having gone through the moſt important Employments of the State with Honour and Integrity. The Procurators take Place of all the other Nobility; [273] they have the Diſpoſal of all pious Legacies, are the Guardians of Orphans, and Protectors of Widows. The Number was formerly confined to nine, but is now encreaſed to eleven. In preſſing Neceſſities of the Republic, this Dignity has been ſold for immenſe Sums; but, except in Caſes of public Diſtreſs, it can only be diſpoſed of by Merit; and thoſe who purchaſe it never have any Succeſſors appointed when they die. Their Dreſs is a purple Robe. The magnificent Buildings on each Side of St. Mark's Place, were originally deſtined for the Habitation of the Procurators, and from thence called Procuratias; but they are now chiefly rented to Strangers and foreign Miniſters, by Way of Caſinos.

The GRAND CHANCELLOR.

THIS Dignity can only be enjoyed by a Perſon of the Rank of Citizen; he takes Place of all the other Magiſtrates, and wears a purple Robe, like the Procurators of St. Mark. All the Councils are open to him; he holds the Seal of the Republic, and aſſiſts at reading [274] and anſwering the Diſpatches from Ambaſſadors, and every Thing elſe material that is treated of in the Senate. He has the Title of Excellenza, and is the Head of the People, as the Doge is of the Nobility. His Income is about nine thouſand Ducats per Annum. He is buried with great Pomp, at the Expence of the Republic.

The AVOGADORES.

THIS Office reſembles, in Part, that of Attorney-General in England, but is divided among three People; the greateſt Inſtance of its Power is, being able, for the Space of three Days, to ſuſpend the Judgment of all the other Courts of Juſtice, when the Crime is not clearly proved upon the Culprit. In this Particular, the Avogador reſembles the Roman Tribunes of the People. They are elected by the Senate, but the Choice muſt be confirmed by the Grand Council, where all Proceedings would be null, if one of the Avogadores did not aſſiſt. Their Dreſs, when in Office, is a purple Robe.

[275]The TWO CENSORS.

THE Juriſdiction of the Cenſors extends principally to the Manners of particular Perſons; to the Intrigues of the Nobles in the Broglio; to the Condemnation and Fining of thoſe who violate the Statutes of the Great Council; to the Payment of Wages, Pilfering of Servants, and Correction of Gondaliers. They are ſixteen Months in Office; during which Term, they have a Right to vote in the Pregadi, and wear purple Gowns.

I have extended this beyond the common Bounds of a Letter, and find that by ſo doing, I have loſt Half an Hour of an agreeable Converſation, where I am engaged this Evening, ſo ſhall only add, that I am ſincerely

Yours, &c.

P. S. I am obliged to one of my Gondaliers, a clever, intelligent Fellow, for reminding me, that it is paſt the Hour of my Engagement; [276] and here let me do Juſtice to this numerous Body of People, by ſaying, they are one of the moſt reſpectable Societies I have any where heard of, for their Honeſty and Fidelity to the Maſter they engage themſelves to.

LETTER LXIII. Miſs N—, to Mr. HULL.

WITH your Leave, my good Friend, I am going to engage you in a little Trip to the Terra Firma, in Order to introduce you to the Podeſtàs and Capitanios, a Set of Gentlemen of no ſmall Conſequence, I aſſure you, in their reſpective Governments.

To the greater Towns of the Terra Firma, the Senate ſend two Noblemen, with the Titles of Podeſtà and Capitanio; theſe equally repreſent the Republic, the firſt in the Adminiſtration [277] of civil Juſtice, the ſecond in the Command of Military Affairs. The Podeſtà is the principal Perſon, as he takes Cognizance of all that regards the Police, and the good Order of the People. The Capitanio, beſides the Command of the Troops, has Power to puniſh the Inhabitants for any Crime committed in the Streets, during the Courſe of the Night. He has alſo the Care of the public Money, which is collected by Receivers, who are accountable to him for it. The Podeſtàs and Capitanios are obliged to report to the Senate every Meaſure they take. To the Capitals of Provinces are generally ſent both the above-mentioned Officers; but in Towns of ſmall Importance, the two Offices are united in the Perſon of the Podeſtà, who holds his Employment ſixteen Months. The Appointments allowed them by the Republic are very ſmall, in Compariſon to what they are obliged to ſpend in the Capitals, therefore to them the Senate generally ſends rich Noblemen, and poor ones to the ſmall Towns, where, not being obliged to make an expenſive Appearance, they may, if they pleaſe, gain a comfortable [278] Subſiſtence by their Poſt, during the Time they are employed in it.

A Nobleman of the firſt Rank is always ſent into the Frioul, with the Title of Proveditore-General of Palma Nova; this Place is of great Conſequence to the Venetians, as it ſerves for a Frontier to the Emperor's Dominions, and is a ſtrong Barrier againſt the Incurſions of the Turks. At Udeney, where the Patriarch of Aquilia reſides, the Republic employs only a Lieutenant and ſome Subalterns. In Iſtria are four epiſcopal Towns, with five others not ſo conſiderable, each of them governed by a Podeſtà. The Commanding-Officers of theſe Places, as well as thoſe of the Levant and Dalmatia, are changed only once in two Years. The Senate gives the Title of Counts, Governors, and Captains, to the Noblemen who are ſent into Dalmatia to adminiſter Juſtice. The Magiſtrates of the principal Towns, (for Example, the Counts of Spalatro and Gara, who are likewiſe Archbiſhops) have appointed to them a Council of three noble Venetians, without whom they cannot determine on any Thing; but all theſe Officers are ſubject to the Proveditore-General, [279] who has full Authority in all Affairs civil and military. The Iſles of Corfuzant and Cephalonia, are each governed by a Proveditore, aſſiſted by a Council of three noble Venetians. Corfu is a Place of great Importance, as it commands the Entrance of the Gulph, and is the Repoſitory of the Venetian Merchandize brought from the Levant; this Place is regarded by the Turks with a jealous Eye. There is alſo a General of theſe three Iſles, to whom the particular Proveditores render Obedience, as the Magiſtrates of the Towns in Dalmatia do to the Proveditore-General.

INQUISITORS of the TERRA FIRMA.

EVERY five Years, Inquiſitors are ſent to hold Courts in the ſeveral Provinces of the Terra Firma; their Buſineſs is to inſpect into the Conduct of Podeſtàs and Capitanios, and to receive all Complaints of Mal-adminiſtration of Juſtice. Their Cenſures are ſeldom ſevere, but when there are Proofs of Embezzlement of the public Money, and in that [280] Caſe, their Office obliges them to act with the utmoſt Rigour. They are attended by a Company of Cavalry, and an Executioner, that they may puniſh on the Spot all Offences that are clearly proved. This gives the Provincials a very high Idea of the Juſtice of the Venetian Government.

The MAGISTRATES of POMP.

Gli Sopre Proveditore alle Pompe, are Senators, who by ſtrict Ordinances ſuppreſs all outward Marks of Luxury, and preſerve an exact Equality, in the exterior Appearance of the Nobility. At public Feaſts, the Dreſs of the Ladies is always black, except on ſome Occaſions, when they are allowed to wear a rich gold or ſilver Stuff Petticoat with their black Gowns. The noble Venetians are not ſuffered to uſe gold or ſilver Lace on their Boatmen's Liveries, or in their Boxes at the Theatres, except the Doge's Family and the Grand Chancellor's. In Maſking-Time, the Ladies may wear rich coloured Cloaths, which is about ſix Months in the Year; and when they are [281] at their Eſtates on the Terra Firma, they may give as rich Liveries as they chooſe, but the Servants who wear them never attend them at Venice, but in their own Houſes.

REVENUES and EXPENCES of the STATE.

THE ſettled Revenue of the Republic is ſuppoſed, at preſent, according to the beſt Calculation, to amount to about a Million and a Half ſterling per Annum; this is raiſed by Imports and Exports, and Taxes upon all the Proviſions conſumed in the City of Venice, and upon all Sorts of Merchandizes, and by other Duties raiſed in the Iſles of the Lagunes, and upon all the Eſtates ſituated near Venice, called the Dogado or Dutchy. Another Part of the Revenue is raiſed in the ſame Manner from the Towns and Provinces of the Terra Firma, and alſo from Iſtria, Dalmatia, and the Iſles of Corfu, Zant, and Cephalonia. A large Portion likewiſe ariſes from the Salt made at Corfu and Chioſa; and to this may be added, twenty thouſand Ducats per [282] Month, that are paid into the Coffers of the Republic from a Lottery, on the ſame Plan as thoſe of Rome and Naples, which has been eſtabliſhed within theſe thirty Years. In Time of War, the Senate finds great Reſources by ennobling rich Families, making ſupernumerary Procurators of St. Mark; by renewing old Taxes, and impoſing new ones. The yearly Expences of Government do not require above half the Income of the State, ſo that in Time of Peace the Republic can lay up vaſt Sums; by which Means, the Venetians are enabled to negotiate all their Affairs with foreign Powers by the Force of Money inſtead of Arms.

The FORCES of the REPUBLIC.

IN Time of Peace, the Venetians are ſuppoſed to pay about twenty-five thouſand Men; but there is ſtrong Reaſon to believe, that not above one third of them are effective, owing to the Abuſes of the Proveditores in Dalmatia. The Infantry are chiefly Sclavonians, Morlaques, and Albanians; they are eſteemed brave Soldiers, and are firmly attached to the [283] Venetians, from an inveterate Hatred to the Turks, who are their natural Enemies. The Cavalry are partly compoſed of the ſame Nations, and partly of Ultramontanes. The General in Chief muſt always be a Foreigner, and his Power is ſo over-ruled by the Proveditore-General, that he has only the Name of Commander of the Forces. The chief Attention of the Senate is paid to the Marine. They have no regular naval Force in Time of Peace; but upon an Emergency, can arm thirty Galleys, able to act againſt their Enemies, in a very expeditious Manner. They always keep ſome Galleys in the Levant, with other Veſſels, to guard the Provinces ſituated near the Sea; theſe are under the Command of the Proveditore-General. A Squadron of ſix Galleys, and ſeveral other Veſſels, are likewiſe employed to cruize about the Mouth of the Gulph, to ſecure the Traders from the Corſairs, and to make the Merchants pay their proper Duties. The Nobleman who commands this Squadron has the Title of General of the Gulph, his Command continues for three Years. The Republic, in Peace as well as in War, creates a Proveditore General, who commands both the [284] Fleet and Army; he has an abſolute Power to puniſh with Death all Officers, Soldiers, and Sailors, and to diſpoſe of all Poſts in the Army and Navy; he reſides at Corfu the firſt three Years he is in Office, and when that Time is expired, he is obliged to render an Account of his Adminiſtration to the Senate.

SPIES and INFORMERS.

SPIES have ever been looked upon as infamous Miniſters of Tyranny; but the Senate of Venice have found Means to conceal the Shame of ſuch Miſcreants, by making Mouths of Stone ſpeak for them; for in many Parts of the Palace of St. Mark, and in all the Parts of the City near the public Tribunals, Heads are cut in the Walls with gaping Mouths, into which they caſt the Notes of Information. If the Informer has no Scruple to declare himſelf, he goes in Perſon to receive the Reward allowed by Law on this Occaſion; if he does not chooſe to be known, he ſends a Friend, with a Piece of Paper that has been torn from that on which the Information was written, [285] and the Money is paid without any other Formality than comparing the two Pieces of Paper together. As the great Maxim of the Venetians is, that the Safety of the State depends upon their having exact Intelligence of every Thing that paſſes, eſpecially in the Families of Ambaſſadors and foreign Miniſters, it is incredible what a Number of Spies of all Ranks they keep in conſtant Pay. That the Venetians are often branded with the ridiculous Epithet of Pantaloons, for this apparent Myſteriouſneſs in their Syſtem of Politics, we very well know; but how far they are right or wrong in it, I leave to better Judgments than mine to determine: this however we muſt allow, that their Government has ſubſiſted under a republican Form, without any material Alteration, for a much longer Period of Time than any other Republic that Hiſtory furniſhes us with an Account of, at leaſt that I can recollect. I had a great Curioſity, when I came to Venice, to learn the Etymology of the Name of Pantaloon, and why it is ſo particularly applied to the Venetians; I am told it comes from Pianta Leone, and was firſt appropriated to them for their great Eagerneſs to plant the [286] Standard of Venice, which you know is a Lion, wherever they could by Force or Fraud obtain a Bit of Ground large enough to contain it. How far this etymological Account of honeſt Pantaloon may ſatisfy you, I know not; but, remember, I do not vouch for the Reality of it, I only offer it to you as I have received it. I propoſe by the next Poſt to ſend you a ſuccinct Account of the Method of proceeding at Venice in criminal Caſes, and am, in the mean Time,

faithfully yours, &c.

LETTER LXIV. Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

AN agreeable Excurſion for a few Days into the Country has prevented my being ſo punctual in my literary Engagement as I have hitherto been; but I make no Aplogy, [287] for I know you never meant it ſhould interfere with my Amuſements. Now to proceed with my hiſtorical Anecdotes.

PROCEEDINGS in CRIMINAL CASES at VENICE.

WHEN a Crime is ſuppoſed to have been committed at Venice, the Courts of Juſtice are more ſolicitous to be aſcertained of the Fact, than to ſecure the Offender; and when they have obtained the neceſſary Proofs, they ſend an Officer to enter publicly the Houſe of the Criminal; and on the Report of this Officer, that he is not be found, (which is generally the Caſe) they ſummon him to appear in a longer or ſhorter Space of Time, according to the Enormity of the Crime committed, to anſwer for the Offence, and till that Period is elapſed, the Offender is ſafe from any Moleſtation, provided he does not appear on the Place of St. Mark, or on the Rialto; and he may alſo demand three Delays, and if he thinks he cannot find Means to prevent the Affair coming to a fatal Iſſue, [288] he may avoid a Trial, by getting a Nobleman's Boat to convey him to ſome Part of the Terra Firma, from whence he may eaſily eſcape out of the State. Hence it proceeds, that moſt Criminals at Venice are judged by Contumacy, which they call Bandire: but this Judgment is always accompanied with Conditions proportionable to the Crime; for example, that the condemned Perſon ſhall never be able to purchaſe his Pardon; that whoever kills him in the Venetian State ſhall receive a conſiderable Reward, and double the Sum, if they kill him in any other Territory. If the Crime ſenſibly touches the Republic, they add to the Reward, the Liberty of delivering a State-Priſoner: but notwithſtanding this apparent great Rigour, there have been Inſtances of Noblemen who have been guilty of atrocious Crimes making their Peace, by Means of great Intereſt. When the Criminal is ſecured, and the Proceſs formed, the Avogador names his own Day, and, conducting the Culprit before his Judges, pleads ſtrongly againſt him, exaggerates every Particular of his Crime, and concludes with adviſing a ſevere Puniſhment. The Advocate of the Party accuſed [289] anſwers all the chief Points of the Accuſation; and when he has performed his Part, the Auditors retire, and the Opinion of the Avogador is balloted againſt that of the Chiefs of the Quarantia, which is always the moſt gentle, and the Plurality of Balls determine the Fate of the Offender. By this Means the Judges decide without giving the Reaſon of their Opinion, and it is conſequently unknown who is for, and who is againſt the Criminal. The Lawyers are obliged to plead in the Venetian Dialect, that the moſt ignorant Auditor may underſtand what paſſes, as well as the more learned Part of the Aſſembly. The ſevereſt Hardſhip, in the Courſe of Juſtice at Venice, is the Length of Time it takes to terminate an Affair, owing to the Courts of Juſtice being ſo cloſely connected, and, if I may be allowed the Expreſſion, playing into each others Hands; ſo that a poor Wretch is often ſuffered to lie in Gaol for two or three Years, before he can obtain an hearing, to expiate, as they pretend, by this Puniſhment, part of his Crime. The frequent Sentences that are paſſed upon Criminals, condemning them to an horrid obſcure Priſon for eight or [290] ten Years, and often for Life, (where in Winter they ſuffer all the Rigour of extreme Cold, and in Summer of exceſſive Heat) are certainly more cruel Puniſhments than Death at once.

Now in my uſual abrupt Manner, I ſhall conduct you at one Step from temporal to ſpiritual Affairs, and ſay a few Words of the Church, whoſe Power is very limited in this Republic.

The STATE of the CHURCH.

THE Republic of Venice has ever been careful to exclude the Clergy from their Councils, and from all political Employments, even thoſe who are noble Venetians. The Head of the Church is ſtiled Patriarch of Venice, and Primate of Dalmatia; he is always a Nobleman, enjoys a good Revenue, makes a reſpectable Appearance in public Proceſſions, but has no Power, even in eccleſiaſtical Affairs; at all religious Functions, where the Pope's Nuncio is preſent, the Patriarch is obliged to ſend the Maſter of the Ceremonies [291] to aſk his Permiſſion to give the Bleſſing. An Office of Inquiſition is allowed at Venice, but under ſuch Reſtrictions, as render it as dependent on the political Government as any of the ſecular Tribunals are. The Holy-Office is compoſed of the Patriarch, the Nuncio, and a Friar, who has the Title of Father Inquiſitor, and two experienced Senators, without whoſe Preſence and Conſent, all Proceedings are null; by this Means, and under this Pretext, that Matters brought before the Inquiſition are contrary to the Laws and Intereſt of the Republic, the greateſt Affairs of this Tribunal are reduced to a mere Trifle. The Convents in Venice were formerly ſo ill regulated, that it occaſioned much Scandal; but at preſent, they are under better Diſcipline, for three Magiſtrates are appointed by the Senate, with an extenſive Authority, to take Cognizance of all that paſſes in the female Monaſteries; and though the Patriarch himſelf allows a Prieſt to ſay Maſs in one of their Churches, he is obliged to obtain a Permiſſion from one of theſe Magiſtrates beſides, who limits this Licence to what Time he thinks proper. All the Women likewiſe who [292] perform any Commiſſions for the Nuns, are obliged, under Penalty of corporal Puniſhment, to have Leave in Writing to execute them, ſigned by one of the aforeſaid Magiſtrates. The Senate has, within theſe few Years, made many wiſe and uſeful Reformations in the regular Convents of Friars alſo; and have tranſferred from the Superiors of thoſe Houſes to the Senate, the Power of inflicting capital Puniſhments and Impriſonment upon the Monks, and only allow them for the future to impoſe Penances of Faſting, Prayers, and ſuch like conventual Exerciſes.

Now we muſt return from ſpiritual to temporal Affairs again, that I may have the Honour to introduce you to the Venetian Nobleſſe, who are not a little vain of the great Antiquity of their Nobility, which they can certainly, many of them at leaſt, authenticate for ſeveral Ages paſt, better than any other Nation we are acquainted with.

[293]NOBILITY of the FIRST CLASS.

THE noble Venetians, who compoſe the firſt Claſs, comprehend the Families of the twelve Tribunes who elected the firſt Doge in 709: the Contarini, Moroſini, Poli, Badovari, Tiepoli, Michele, Sanudi, Gradenigo, Memo, Falier, Dondolo, and Barozzi. The four Families next to theſe in Point of Antiquity, date their Nobility from the Year 800, when they ſigned the Contract for the Abbey of St. George the Great; theſe are the Juſtiniani, Cornaro, Bragadini, and Bembo. The firſt are popularly called the twelve Apoſtles, and the laſt the four Evangeliſts. To this Claſs may be added alſo, eight Families who look upon themſelves as equal to the firſt, becauſe long before il Serral del Conſiglio, which happened in 1289, they were very conſiderable; theſe are the Delphini, Quirini, Soranzo, Zorzi, and Marcello; the other three, by Reaſon of extreme Poverty, are fallen into total Obſcurity, or perhaps are extinct: in this Claſs too, may be placed ſome illuſtrious Families, who retired to Venice, [294] from the Town of Acre in Syria, when it was deſtroyed by the Venetian General TIEPOLI, for having revolted from its Obedience to the Republic after the firſt Conqueſt of it. The greateſt Advantage theſe Families derive from their Antiquity is being more conſidered in the Diſpoſal of public Employments that reflect Honour on the Poſſeſſors; in Point of Precedency, all the Nobility of Venice rank alike.

NOBILITY of the SECOND CLASS.

THIS Claſs is compoſed of thoſe who can produce no authentic Proof of their Nobility earlier than 1289, when their Names were written in the Libro d'Oro, which now contains more than five hundred Families. It was at that memorable Event, il Serrar del Conſiglio, that this Liſt of the Nobles was firſt made out, and a Law enacted, that if the Names of their Children were not written in this Book within a certain Time after their Birth, they ſhould forfeit their Title to Nobility; and this alſo happens, if the Contract [295] of their Parents' Marriage does not legally paſs the Senate, which it cannot do, if a noble Venetian marries a public Performer, either in the Drama, or Muſic, one who has been in a State of Servitude, or one whoſe Father is of any Profeſſion or Trade, excepting a Phyſician, a Manufacturer of gold or ſilver Silks, or a Maker of Glaſs. As it is now upwards of four hundred Years ſince il Serrar del Conſiglio, this Claſs of Nobles is highly eſteemed. The moſt conſiderable of theſe Families that ſtill exiſt, are the Moncenigo, the Capello, Foſcarini, Foſcari, Grimani, Gritti, Garzoni, Lovedan, Dona, Nani, Malipiero, Peſoro, Piſani, Priuli, Ruzzini, Sagredo, Valier, Venier, Baſſadona, &c. &c. moſt of theſe have given Doges to the Republic, and the reigning one at preſent is a Moncenigo. In this Rank are alſo placed thirty Families that were ennobled ninety-one Years later, on the Termination of the Genoeſe War, as a Reward for aſſiſting the State with vaſt Sums of Momey; the moſt conſiderable of theſe that are remaining are the Treviſan, Vendramin, Renier, Juſti, and Paſqualighi.

[296]After having introduced you to ſo much good Company, I think you will not be ſorry if I take my Leave for the preſent; but I cannot do that, without firſt aſſuring you, that I am, with Truth, &c. &c.

LETTER LXV. Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

TO proceed with my Subject where I left it in my laſt Letter, I muſt now talk to you a little of a younger Branch of the Venetian Nobility, whom I ſhall ſtile the third Claſs, and even theſe are reſpectable for their Antiquity.

[297]NOBILITY of the THIRD CLASS.

IN this Claſs are comprehended about eighty Families, who purchaſed their Nobility for an hundred thouſand Ducats each, during the laſt War of Candia; ſome of theſe have remained poor and diſtreſſed ever ſince, by that Inſtance of their Vanity: the following are ſtill conſiderable for their Wealth and Alliances, the Videman, Labia, Zenobia, Fini, Manini, Gambara, &c. &c. The Savorgnan gave to the Republic ſome Fortreſſes of great Importance, for guarding the Venetitian Territories from the Encroachments of the Turks; and the Benzoni made the State a Preſent of the Province of Crema, of which they poſſeſſed the Seignory; and for theſe free Gifts the two Families received the Honour of being ennobled. Though the noble Venetians can authenicate the Antiquity of their Nobility better than any People perhaps in Europe, yet not content with this Advantage, they are fond of deriving their Families from fabulous Originals: thus the Contarini, from a Similitude [298] of Name, pretend to be deſcended from antient German Princes, who were ſtiled Counts of the Rhine; the Juſtiniani, who give for their Arms a Spread Eagle, from thence claim their Deſcent from an Emperor of the Eaſt of their Name. I have been told a curious Anecdote of this noble Family, that I will relate for your Amuſement: ſome Centuries paſt, they fitted out a Veſſel, under the Doge VITAL MICHELE, to fight againſt the Emperor EMANUEL; (who had ill treated the Venetians in the Levant) the Juſtiniani were all cut to Pieces, and the only ſurviving Male was a Benedictine Friar, for whom the Doge obtained a Diſpenſation of his Vows from the Pope, and married him to his Daughter, and from this Couple are deſcended the preſent Family, according to this Legend, which whether true or falſe I ſhall not take upon me to determine. One Branch of the Cornaro Family ſtile themſelves Cornaro della Regina, from one of their Houſe having been Queen of Candia; but this Alliance is rather a Blot in their Eſcutcheon, if a certain evil Fame may be relied on, who ſays, that the Huſband of this Lady was an Uſurper, whom ſhe poiſoned, and [299] treacherouſly betrayed the Candians to the Venetians. A Gentleman has promiſed to introduce me to a Lady of this Name, who is a very agreeable, ſenſible Woman, and who, he ſays, will ſhew me the complete Ornaments of the Toilette of the Queen above-mentioned, which is ſtill in the Poſſeſſion of the Family, and valued by them at many thouſand Ducats.

The CITIZENS, or ORDER of SECRETARIES.

THE Citizens had formerly a large Share in the Government, and Venice would probably have always remained in a State of Democracy, had not the Reſentment of PIETRO GRADENIGO againſt many of the Claſs, who oppoſed his being choſen Doge, determined him to transfer the Power entirely from the People into the Hands of the Nobility, which he fully effected by Means of the Serrar del Conſiglio; at which Period, ſeveral of the Nobles loſt their Rank, by not being admitted into the Secret; and at preſent, by the Word Citizen, (at Venice) is meant the Families thus [300] excluded from the Grand Council, many of whom bear the ſame Name and Arms of the old Nobility; and to theſe may be added many who by Merit or Money have obtained the ſame Privileges in the Republic: they rank with the Nobility of the Terra Firma, and one at leaſt of every Family wears the Veſt, the ſame as the noble Venetians: it has been thought, this is allowed them to prevent the People from obſerving how ſmall a Number of Men they are governed by. Though, by a ſtanding Law, every noble Venetian is forbid to enter into Trade, yet they often join privately in Commerce with the wealthy Citizens, which the Senate winks at, becauſe when they are become opulent, they can make it turn to the Advantage of the State, by employing them in expenſive Embaſſies. From among the Citizens are choſen the Secretaries of the Senate, Secretaries of Embaſſies, and alſo Reſidents at foreign Courts, for a noble Venetian can accept of no Employment of that kind, but with the Title of Ambaſſador; and, for the ſame Reaſon, the Republic receives no foreign Miniſter in any intermediate Character between a Reſident and an Ambaſſador. [301] The Dignity of Grand Chancellor is always conferred on one of this Claſs; and as it is the higheſt Honour that can be attained by a Perſon who is not noble, it is generally given as a Reward to one who has ſerved the Republic well in expenſive Reſidencies. The Subjects of the Venetian State are by ſome rated, at preſent, at about 2,655,448; but thoſe who have made very accurate Enquiries upon this Head affirm, that they are over-rated by one million.

Thus, my Friend, I have obeyed your Commands, and, in as conciſe a Manner as I poſſibly could, have endeavoured to give you a juſt Idea of the very extraordinary Government of the Republic of Venice; I flatter myſelf, that by offering you this at one View, I have ſaved you the Trouble of turning over ſome Books which, beſides being very dry reading, you might not eaſily have met with: but was this little Extract (or whatever you are pleaſed to call it) to fall under the Obſervation of a leſs indulgent Judgment than yours, I ſhould, with great Reaſon, fear being charged with having given it in a ſlovenly incorrect Manner. I ſhall only advance, in my Defence, [302] that you well know how limited my Time is at Venice, and how ſtrongly my natural Inclination leads me to a much more entertaining Study than that of Hiſtory; but to ſuch a Friend as yourſelf, I could not refuſe a Gratification that it was in my Power to procure you, at the trifling Expence of putting myſelf, for a few Hours, out of my Way; I only wiſh you may find my Attempt ſatisfactory. However, before I entirely quit this Subject, I cannot forbear communicating to you a few Reflections into which it has naturally led me; it is melancholy to obſerve, that in a Government ſo wiſe in many of its Parts, ſuch groſs Errors ſhould be ſuffered to paſs uncorrected, as muſt in Time moſt certainly deſtroy the whole Syſtem. A total Neglect evidently appears in the Education of the young Nobility, which gives them an Ignorance, I had almoſt ſaid Brutality, that renders them very diſagreeable in civil Society, and muſt prove an Obſtacle to their becoming wiſe and prudent Magiſtrates; and, added to this, the Licentiouſneſs not only permitted, but even encouraged, among the Clergy, has produced ſuch a ſhameful Neglect in Matters of true [303] Religion, that Vice and Immorality ſeem to prevail among all Ranks of People, which muſt in Time infallibly bring to a final Diſſolution this once flouriſhing and powerful Republic. How amazingly muſt the Manners of the Venetians have been corrupted ſince their firſt Eſtabliſhment, if the Abbate LANGIER has drawn a true Character of them in his Storia Veneta, P. 130, Libro 1. He ſays, Eſigevanſi Coſtumi puri, Condotta ſemplice, una Vita laborioſia per Ottenere da Lei la Qualita di Cittadino. The ſame Author quotes a Letter, written by CASSIODORUS, who was Miniſter from King THEODORICK to the Tribunes of the maritime Iſles, which contains theſe Words, Più di ſuſſante piccole Iſole eſſendo ſtate Abitate ſucceſſivamente intorno Rialto per componere al fire queſta Cita prodigioſa. P. 160. Libro 2. I have tranſcribed this only by Way of obſerving how very early Rialto (now called Venice) became a conſiderable Place. LANGIER places the Election of PAOLO LUCIO ANAFESTE, the firſt Doge, in 697, which is twelve Years earlier than St. DISDIER's Account, who ſays, this Prince was elected in 709. AMELOT DE LA HOUSSAI, in his Hiſtory of the Republic [304] of Venice, ſays, The Government of Venice by Conſuls and Tribunes, which laſted 270 Years, may be called her Infancy; the deſpotic Reign of the Doges, from PAOLO LUCIO ANAFESTE to SEBASTIAN RIANI, (which comprehends 463 Years) her Childhood; the Democracy, (which laſted above a Century) her Youth, which, ſays he, was robuſt and vigorous; but, as it often happens in ſimilar Caſes, it was diſturbed and agitated by dangerous Paroxiſms of Wars and Revolts. Her Virility, he adds, began with il Serrar del Conſiglio, and laſted till the War of the League of Cambray, in 1309, which may be called the Beginning of her old Age.

The Republic liberally rewarded SANAZAR for the following very flattering Epigram:

Viderat Adriacis Venetum NEPTUNUS in Undis
Stare Urbem & toto dicere Jura Mari.
I nunc Tarpeïas, quantum vis, JUPITER, arces
Objice, & illa tui Maenia MARTIS, ait:
Si Tiberim Pelago confers, Urbem aſpice utramque,
Illam Homines dices, hanc poſſuiſſe Deos.

[305]Thus haſtily tranſlated by a Gentleman of my Acquaintance:

NEPTUNE within the Adriatic Seas
Beheld fair Venice her rich Turrets raiſe,
And ſeem o'er all the Main to iſſue her Decrees—
JOVE, quoth the God, on all thy Power I call
To equal this—bring thine own MARS's Wall—
Tarpeian Cliffs—immortal Tyber's Waves,
Where mighty Rome her deep Foundations laves,
Compare the Cities, and reluctant own,
Thy proudeſt Toils by what I guard outdone;
Works but of human Skill thy Bulwarks ſtand,
Mine boaſt the Touch of an immortal Hand.

As I am very partial to this famous Republic, even in her preſent faulty State, I cannot do better than to take my Leave of her, after paying her ſo high a Compliment; and at the ſame Time ſhall bid you, my dear Friend, adieu for ſome Time, as I propoſe leaving Venice in a few Days, and from what Place I ſhall next write to you, I cannot at preſent foreſee. Farewel, believe me, &c. &c.

LETTER LXVI. Miſs N—, to Mr. HULL.

[306]
My deareſt Friend,

THE kind Expreſſions in your welcome Epiſtle, and ſuperabundant Thanks for my Venetian Extract, were, I aſſure you, a Cordial to my Heart. I am rejoiced that our worthy Patroneſs has paſſed ſo good a Winter, and hope the Summer will be ſtill more propitious to her.

You will ſee by the Date of this Letter, we have changed our Situation, and are got to a ſweet Retirement, on the Banks of the Brenta; the Houſe is large, convenient, clean and chearful; the Gardens ſpacious, and in good Order; and the whole Atmoſphere perfumed with Roſes, Jaſmines and Orange Flowers, which we have in great Profuſion. The River, which is in the Front of the Houſe, affords a continual moving Picture of large [307] Barges, paſſing to and fro from Venice to Padua, from either of which Places we can have any Thing brought by Water to the very Door. The north Side of the River is planted with Foreſt Trees, and the ſouth Side with Vines that hang in beautiful Feſtoons, ſupported by other Trees: in ſhort, we want nothing but a few liberal Souls (ſuch as diſtinguiſh the Party you are with) in this Neighbourhood, to render this delicious Spot an abſolute terreſtrial Paradiſe; yet, I am ſure, whilſt you have the Advantage of ſuch a Society, you would not exchange your retired Spot for all I have been deſcribing; and in this Preference, I join with you moſt cordially, and beg my beſt Love to all the dear Members that are ſo happy to be collected within the magic Circle.

A haſty Summons (on Account of the Departure of the Packet that contains this Trifle) obliges me to uſe more Brevity than I am either accuſtomed or inclined to. I cannot, however, ſend it off without encloſing a Piece of News, that I flatter myſelf is not quite indifferent to you; namely, that, pleaſe God [308] no unforeſeen Accident intervenes, in a twelve-month's Time, at fartheſt, I may probably be ſo happy as to ſalute you all in your uſual dear Aſſembly-Room. Be perſuaded, however, of this ſimple Truth, that whether the Time I am abſent from you all is long or ſhort, or the Diſtance great or ſmall, I am ever, and ſhall always remain, with the ſame Affection and Sincerity,

your ever faithful and obliged S. N—.

Pray let me have the Pleaſure to hear from you ſoon.

P. S. By the Bye, I have a Favour in the Tranſcript-Way to entreat of you. You do not forget, I am ſure, that, previous to my ſetting off for Venice, I was hurried about (my uſual Fate) from Spot to Spot, and ſent you occaſional Accounts of ſuch Places and Events as I thought beſt worth your Notice. A dear Friend here wiſhes to ſee them: now, as ſome Time is elapſed, it would ſave my Head as well as Hand much Trouble, if you would oblige me with Copies of thoſe Letters, [309] provided you have thought them worth preſerving: I mean only (as you may imagine) the deſcriptive Parts of them.

LETTER LXVII.* Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

Dear Sir,

I THINK myſelf ſo much obliged to you, for you taking ſo much Notice of my inſignificant Scrawl, that I am not the leaſt inclined to find fault with the Length of Time you have taken in anſwering my laſt; and to ſhew my Sincerity in this Particular, I am ſat down to acknowledge your Favour, though I have not had it in my Poſſeſſion longer than this Afternoon, for it has lain ſome Time in London. I have been on a Viſit to a worthy Friend of ours, at this Place, for a Month [310] paſt, and I aſſure you, I have all the Reaſon in the World to be ſatisfied with my Journey. Pray, good Sir, did you ever ſee Bridgenorth? I believe not—Very well; then I muſt give you ſome little Deſcription of this Place, (as I am habituated to do of every new Spot I tread upon, whether large or ſmall) for I think Bridgenorth is, in Point of Situation, by much the prettieſt I ever ſaw; it is divided into two Pariſhes, diſtinguiſhed by the Names of the Upper and Lower Town. I was, the other Day, on a Viſit to the Rector of the upper Pariſh; the Parſonage-Houſe is a truly Gothic Structure, which overlooks the Church-Yard, and though I cannot ſay, this is the moſt pleaſant, yet it certainly is not the leaſt uſeful Proſpect in the World, to a ſpeculative Mind. The upper Town is ſituated on a Cliff, which renders it very wholſome, both from its Height, and the Clearneſs of the Air. The View from our back Windows is more beautiful than any Thing you can imagine: at the Foot of the Hill, the Severn rolls its cryſtal Waves, in a charming ſerpentine Stream, down to the Banks whereof, is a Succeſſion of ſloping Gardens, [311] that vie with each other in Beauty, Fragrance, and Order. On the oppoſite Side, in a Vale, lies the lower Town, and above that are delightful Fields and Meadows, interſperſed with fine Plantations of Trees of a long Growth. The Grounds, by an eaſy Aſcent, terminate at laſt in a Common, fifteen Miles long, on which is a very good Horſe-Courſe; to the left, the Proſpect is bounded by a very high Rock, and on the right, as far as the Eye can ſtretch, is a fine open fertile Country; this ſtrong Contraſt has a moſt happy Effect. A noble Object in this inimitable Landſcape is the Ruin of an old Caſtle, which, from the Poſition wherein it has been left by a Cannon-Ball, is, perhaps, one of the greateſt Curioſities in Europe; it ſtrikes us with Admiration and Awe, while we contemplate its nodding Towers, which look as if they meant to overwhelm the heedleſs Paſſenger in ſudden Deſtruction; yet the Mathematicians affirm, that nothing leſs than an Earthquake can move this immenſe Pile of Building. Round it is a delightful Walk, where we often repair when the Weather is inviting; but when this happens not to be the Caſe, we have for our Amuſement, [312] in the Houſe, a Microſcope, a reflecting Telleſcope, and a Camera Obſcura: the firſt of theſe is my Favourite; Mr. L—, by the help of it, the other Day, detected a Beau of an Humble Bee, in the very Act of ſcratching a Louſe (Oh, ſhameful Truth!) off the downy Part of his Neck, and this little Animal, though ſcarcely perceptible to the naked Eye, is a moſt tremendous Figure, much reſembling a Hog, in the Glaſs; for my Part, though I am not apt to be attracted by gaudy Colours, I am abſolutely in love with the radiant Armour of a green Beetle, richly gilded, with a Sun-Beam. I own to you, my good Friend, I have a hearty Contempt for the Coxcombs of the human Race, who place all their Happineſs in Dreſs, when I conſider that an humble Moth, in the ſimple Habit which Nature has given it, far outſhines them in all the Glitter of Lace and Embroidery.

Whenever we amuſe ourſelves with theſe Sort of Contemplations, our worthy Neighbour the Paſtor, never fails to make Improvement go Hand in Hand with Amuſement, by taking Occaſion to expatiate on the Wiſdom and [313] bounteous Goodneſs of our great Creator, exemplified in the moſt minute, as well as in the greateſt Objects of Nature. This excellent Man edifies his Pariſhioners as much by the exemplary Life he leads, as by the ſound and orthodox Doctrine he delivers from the Pulpit, and he does this with the moſt chearful Diſpoſition that can be, and totally free from the leaſt Shadow of Oſtentation; we attend him every Morning to public Prayers in the Church.

Now, my good Friend, I have given you a very particular Account of my preſent Situation, and leave it to you to judge, if it is not very agreeable. I muſt add to this, that I got here Time enough for the Races, where there was a great Appearance of Company, (for ſuch a Place;) though Men were ſcarce, I got a Partner each Night. Lord STAMFORD's Family were the firſt in Rank. Lady MARY GREY opened the Ball, and I had the Honour to dance a Minuet with Mr. GREY, the firſt Night: indeed, I have met with ſo much Politeneſs and Goodneſs from every Body in this Part of the World, that I am ſure I ſhall be grieved to leave Bridgenorth. My firſt ſetting out from [312] [...] [313] [...] [314] London was not ſo lucky, for I was robbed and terrified almoſt to Death; but, thank God, my Loſs was but ſmall, and I have entirely recovered my Spirits.

I deſire my Love and beſt Reſpects to the worthy Family you are with, and am

your very faithful Friend, S. N—.

LETTER LXVIII. Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

I HAVE been ſome Time without hearing from you. I hope the excellent Preſident of our Society is not laid up with her old Plague, the Gout. If ſocial Worth could ward off Malady, ſhe would never be ill. [315] Perhaps you have not been in the Writing-Vein; ſuch a Fit attacks us all at Times, and you know it is our Rule reciprocally to allow for it. If that is the Caſe, do but ſubſcribe the Initials of your Name to a good, though ſhort Account of yourſelves, and I will reſt contented.

I know not what I ſaid in my laſt, but to the beſt of my Rememberance, I gave you no Account of this tereſtrial Paradiſe; but now I am more acquainted with its Beauties, I will make an Attempt of that Sort.

The ‘"Sweet winding Tay,"’ which runs at the Bottom of our Garden, for upwards of ſix Miles, forms the moſt beautiful Canal you can imagine; on the one Side of it, for the ſame Extent, are delightful Walks, riſing one above another, no leſs than five Stages, all amply ſhaded with ſtately Trees, from around whoſe Trunks the twining Woodbine and Sweet-Briar pours forth a Profuſion of Sweets; the ſloping Sides of the Walks are alſo planted with Variety of ſweet-ſmelling Shrubs, which being fanned by the freſh Breezes off the River, [316] ſcatter Perfumes in a plenteous and grateful Return, along the verdant Banks. At judicious Diſtances are placed graſſy Seats, moſs-grown Cells, and flowery Arbours, all which, in their ſeveral Turns, would invite us to ſit down and indulge Contemplation, but that the unwearied Mind, enraptured with theſe enchanting Objects, urges us to proceed in Search of new Beauties, and in that Purſuit it cannot here meet with the ſlighteſt Diſappointment. The oppoſite Side of the River is a deep Bank, finely fringed with Wood of a younger Growth; at different Points of View, we ſee the Brawn, another beautiful River, and a foaming Caſcade; each paying the Tribute of their lucid Stores into the cryſtal Boſom of the Tay, who, as if conſcious of ſuperior Merit, trips nimbly along, in Murmurs of Self-Applauſe. This charming Proſpect is at laſt cloſed with Views of diſtant Ruins, Hills covered with Trees, fertile Vales, and Mountains of a moſt venerable Appearance, covered with a Heath ſo beautiful, that it may vie with the glowing Amaranthus. The Gardens are very extenſive, and laid out in the fineſt Taſte, that is to ſay, with Grandeur and Simplicity united. [317] Nature appears here in her lovelieſt Attire, and Art is contented to act in her proper Sphere, as Handmaid to the Goddeſs. We ſeldom drink Tea in the Houſe; ſometimes an elegant Tent and Marquis is pitched at ſome fine Point of View; ſometimes we reſort to a fine banqueting Room, and often the Shade of a large ſpreading Oak has the Preference. Upon theſe Occaſions the Duke always reads and we work. What moſt attracts my Admiration here is, to perceive that in every ſurrounding Object, Utility adds Merit to Beauty: the Farm-Houſes on this Eſtate are neat as the Hand of Induſtry can make them, and chearful as the Smiles of Content; and every Creature that breathes upon this Spot ſeems to participate in the unfeigned Happineſs of the excellent Poſſeſſors, whoſe Goodneſs adds the higheſt Luſtre to Wealth and Title that they are capable of receiving. It was well ſaid, whoever made the Obſervation, that a good Action never loſes its reward; here was I ſat down, full of Love and Reſpect to write my deareſt Friends a dutiful and loving Letter, when lo, and behold! I was made happy by the Receipt of yours; and [318] truly rejoiced I am to find, that my Fears are groundleſs; however, I don't feel happy at the Thought of our Society's meeting with any Interruption to its Pleaſures. Believe my Aſſurance ſincere, when I affirm, that I think the Content which reigns therein, far excels in Value the higheſt Gratifications that Shew and Grandeur can beſtow on its reſtleſs Votaries. Pray have you ever read DE TOUCHE's Comedies? I am poſitive ſuch excellent Subjects, modelled for our Stage, would be of public Emolument, and I ſhould hope, would be productive of both Honour and Profit to the Undertaker. I am afraid, by what you ſay of Dunkeld, I gave you an Account of its Beauties in my laſt, if ſo, this will be a horrid, ſtupid Repetition; in that Caſe, commit me to the Flames without the leaſt Remorſe of Conſcience. I hope the Sight of a Letter directed by the Pen of a fine young Gentleman, won't give you any Alarm; I confeſs it has done ſo by me, ſince this new faſhioned Way of franking. Adieu! In more Haſte than can be expreſſed, believe me ever

your very ſincere Friend, S. N—.

LETTER LXIX. Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

[319]

HOW ſtrong and wonderful, my good Friend, is the Force of Habit! I remember, near upon my Departure from the dear Society in Somerſetſhire, I felt an aukward Kind of—I don't know what—when it was propoſed that I ſhould maintain a continual Correſpondence with one of the other Sex, during my Abſence. I felt this, even in ſpite of the Conviction, that writing to you, was, in fact, but writing to the whole Circle. How idle!—Now that I have done ſo, for ſome Time, I have taught myſelf to addreſs you, with as little Reſerve, as if you were my real, inſtead of my nominal Uncle. So much the better—Reſerve was not made for true Friendſhip, and liberal Minds, and with none but ſuch do I correſpond.—So much by Way of Digreſſion; now, to return to my little Travels.

[320]We have been theſe ſix Weeks paſt at Atholl Houſe, a very magnificent Seat of the Duke's, twenty Miles higher up in the Highlands than this Place is; though it far exceeds Dunkeld in Grandeur, yet I own the rural Beauties of the latter, have more Charms for my humble Diſpoſition; Providence having, no doubt, deſigned me to tread the ‘"Cool ſequeſtered Vale of Life,"’ has bounded my Ideas accordingly, and I look upon this as one of the numberleſs Inſtances I have experienced of the Divine Bounty. The Country about Atholl is very romantic and beautiful; in ſome Places rather wild, in others very fertile, which forms a fine Contraſt. The Houſe is immenſely large, the Rooms are infinite in Number, finely proportioned, and elegantly furniſhed throughout; 'tis ſituated in a very extenſive Vale, amply wooded, and ornamented with four beautiful Rivers, all of which, at different Places, loſe themſelves in the Tay. Some of them from the Tops of very high Mountains receive a prodigious Increaſe from the fineſt natural Caſcades you can imagine, which is a Sight extremely beautiful, [321] and at the ſame Time very tremendous. The Kitchen-Garden is the fineſt Thing of the Kind that in my Life I ever ſaw; elegant Summer-houſes, Alcoves, Octagons, &c. &c. often tempted us to drink Tea abroad, and enjoy the fine extenſive Views at Leiſure. I ſhould have told you, that the Vale is ſurrounded with Hills and Mountains, at ſuch a Diſtance, that inſtead of confining the Proſpect, they add greatly to the Grandeur of it.

I muſt not omit to mention a natural Curioſity I here met with, of a very extraordinary Kind: M' PHERSON, Laird of Foignes, two Years before the Peace, raiſed eight and twenty Men to ſerve in America; who unanimouſly declared when they came to embark, that they would not have enliſted, had they not thought they ſhould have ſerved under him; the generous Laird was ſo ſtruck with this Proof of their Attachment, that he declared they ſhould not be diſappointed, and, at the Age of ſeventy-two, aſked Leave to ſerve as a Volunteer; during the Remainder of the Campaign he was preſent in every Action, was always ready to expoſe his Perſon, and never [322] was a ſingle Day prevented by Illneſs from doing his Duty; the Government has rewarded his ſpirited Generoſity with a Lieutenancy, and Leave to retire upon full Pay, ſo that now, like the Patriarchs of old, he wages more harmleſs Wars with the feathered Race and ſwift-footed Stag: now, at near fourſcore Years of Age, he is able to walk and ſcramble amongſt the Mountains, the whole Day, in Purſuit of Game. How few, my good Friend, of our degenerate Countrymen, are at ſuch an Age able to ſerve their King and Country! Enervated by Sloth and Luxury, long before that Period of Life, they become a Burthen to themſelves, and a Torment to all about them. When I looked at the military Garb and venerable ſilver Locks of this northern Hero, I fancied I ſaw in his ſingle Perſon an Epitome of all the illuſtrious Greeks that ſerved in the Siege of Troy; and if my Heart had been inclined to change its preſent Situation, I verily believe I ſhould without Heſitation have beſtowed it upon this warlike Mountaineer.

I fear the Seaſon is now approaching, when our friendly Aſſociation muſt loſe ſome of its [323] agreeable Ornaments; I feel for the Mortification a ſenſible Mind muſt ſuffer, at being obliged to quit the Society of a favourite few, to mix with the unthinking many: but hope that the kind Genius of Friendſhip will interpoſe a Gleam of Pleaſure, at the Proſpect of a future Meeting.

My Love to all, you know, is a conſtant Commiſſion, and I am ſure you will never forget to diſcharge it. How is that beſt of good Beings, our Preſident, our Patroneſs, our Life, our Spirit, our all? Is ſhe not the worthieſt of Heaven's Worthies? Was there ever Acquaintance who did not eſteem her, Friend who did not love her, Domeſtic who did not bleſs her, or Indigent, who came to her Door, that did not pray for her? Long may ſhe remain with us! and whenever it pleaſes Providence to remove her from Earth, may ſhe receive Bleſſings in a future State, in as ample Portions, as ſhe, through Life, has ever wiſhed and endeavoured to diſpenſe them to her Fellow-Creatures.

S. N—.

LETTER LXX. Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

[324]

DID you ever expect to hear of, or from me again? Ever ſince I received your laſt, I have lived the [...]ife of a Whirlagig, but be aſſured that I had not a Moment to tell you ſo. The dear Spot I left was always in my Thoughts, and indeed as yet my poor Brain is far from being in a compoſed State; a ſcribbling Moment too is the only good Thing that is ſcarce here. A few Days after I received yours we left the calm Sweets of Dunkeld, and went to pay a ſecond Viſit at Lord BREADALBANE's, where all was Mirth, Muſic, Maſquerades, &c. &c. From thence we ſet forth on our Return towards a ſouthern Sun, and gentler Breezes, and ſtopped for a few Days at the elegant and ſuperb Seat of Lord BINGLEY, near York; there we found a brilliant Aſſembly of Ladies and Gentlemen, [325] who had met to dine and play Cards, however, moſt of them went away in the Evening, and we remained a decent Party for the reſt of the Time; from thence we bent our Courſe to this magnificent Caſtle, hoping, wiſhing, and expecting, to find a quiet, peaceable Family till Chriſtmas, when we knew a delicious Riot was always intended; but lo, and behold! here we found his Highneſs of York, Lord and Lady CHARLES SPENCER, Lady CHATHERINE, and Mr. BEAUCLERK, Lord and Lady LUDLOW, and a World more of fine Folks; the very firſt Night we were forced to join in a Ball, and every Day, whilſt his Highneſs ſtayed, we had Muſic in the Mornings, and Cards or Dancing at Night; I believe every Creature was fatigued with Pleaſures, and I can anſwer for one who was glad when it was over; the Duke of YORK was ſo pleaſed with his Entertainment, that it is not impoſſible but he may return at Chriſtmas. We are now a ſober decent Party of ten or twelve, and, like rational Beings, read and work in the Evenings; and, to ſhew you that all this Diſſipation does not totally baniſh ſerious Thoughts, we have Prayers conſtantly [326] every Morning in a beautiful Chapel in the Caſtle. I take it for granted, that you know, all this Time, that the Owner of this Palace is the Duke of MANCHESTER, who is a very amiable young Nobleman, his Brother, Lord CHARLES MONTAGU, is no leſs ſo, the Ducheſs is beautiful, polite, and a very good young Woman; but the Character that I could dwell upon with Delight for Ages, is Lady CAROLINE MONTAGU, the Duke's Siſter. If ever perfect Goodneſs choſe to dwell with mere Mortality, one may imagine it inhabits her Breaſt; and I flatter myſelf, that you will not conceive the worſe Idea of her Ladyſhip, when I tell you, that ſhe honours me with a very particular Friendſhip, unworthy as I am of ſuch a valuable Diſtinction. Don't think I flatter, for I am perfectly ſincere, when I aſſure you, that I often think, amidſt this perpetual Round of gay Amuſements, with infinite Regret of the dear ſocial Party, wherewith I have ſpent ſome of the happieſt and moſt rational Moments of my Life; I gave ſuch a Picture of it to a young Man of great Quality and good Senſe, a little while ago, that he made me paſs my Word, if ever we met [327] at —, to introduce him to the Lady Patroneſs of the agreeable Society. I beg my beſt Affections to all the dear Aſſociates; I rejoice, without the leaſt Mixture of Envy, at my worthy Nameſake's happy Proſpects, and ſincerely wiſh ſhe may enjoy every Felicity the holy Eſtate can poſſibly produce. I hope I need not ſay, that a Letter from you always gives me Pleaſure; you will, I am ſure, indulge me between this and Chriſtmas. Pray tell me, in your next, if Mr. QUIN is not alive; beſides the Concern I ſhould feel for his Death, I am engaged in a Wager about it.

I am become ſuch a wandering Vagabond over the Face of the Earth, that I ſhould not be a Bit ſurpriſed to find myſelf conveyed ſuddenly to the utmoſt Extent of the habitable Globe: I fear, I ſhall be leſs fortunate than NOAH's Dove; ſhe, at laſt, found Reſt for the Sole of her Foot, but I doubt I ſhall not, till my Soul has taken its Flight to ſome more happy Region; I aſſure you I meant no Pun, but I ſee one has fallen from my Pen of its own Accord. I heard from our [328] Friends in — ſince I got here, and have the Satisfaction to find they are all well.

I would attempt to give you ſome Idea of this Place, but there is a Magnificence and Extenſiveneſs in it, that goes far beyond the Capacity of my Pen. The Caſtle is a very large and regular Building, the Connoiſſeurs ſay the Architecture is very juſt; 'tis expenſively furniſhed, though not in the modern Taſte; there are many good Paintings that this Duke bought in Italy. The Parks, Lawns, &c. &c. are judiciouſly planted, and laid out in a good Taſte; I find the preſent Poſſeſſor has made many Improvements, and is making ſtill more. The Plate and Apparatus for the Table is more ſuperb than any Thing of the Kind that I have ever ſeen, and the Table is always elegantly covered; but I muſt confeſs, this is the Kind of Luxury that pleaſes me the leaſt, and I often think, how much more healthy, and conſequently happier, our Forefathers were, than their degenerate Progeny, who live upon Ragouts, Fricaſſes, and high-ſeaſoned Meats.

[329]Adieu! If you are tired with my moralizing, you will not be ſorry, that both my Time and Paper obliges me to aſſure you, that I am, with the ſincereſt Truth, your ever obliged

S. N—.

LETTER LXXI.* Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

Dear Sir,

I NOW write to you from this Metropolis of Dirt and Gentility, which, owing to the Narrowneſs of the Streets and Height of the Houſes, puts me more in mind of the Capital of North than of South Britain; but then the Grands Hotels are more noble, and in greater Abundance than our Noblemen's Houſes; and the Environs of Paris are, in my Opinion, finer than thoſe of London, which Place [330] we left on Thurſday the 17th of this Month, and arrived here on Tueſday the 22d, without meeting any diſagreeable Accident during the Journey. We have got a very elegant Apartment in one of the beſt Parts of Paris, and, you may be ſure, have loſt no Time ſince our Arrival, in ſeeing every Thing that is worthy a Stranger's Curioſity. The Thuilleries, of which French Novelliſts make ſuch frequent Mention, is a pleaſant Place for the People of Faſhion to take the Air in. The Louvre, which, in outward Shew, far exceeds any Palace we have, runs along one End of it, and on the oppoſite Side a fine Square is building, called the Place de Louis Quinze; there are noble ſhady Walks, and a charming Terraſs, that commands a fine View of Paris; but the old Taſte, in which the Center of the Garden is laid out, is frightful, and exactly reſembles the Ornaments of a Minced-Pye. There is another faſhionable Rendezvous for the Evening Airings, about a Mile out of Paris, that, I confeſs, pleaſes me ſtill more, called the Bois de Bullogne, where, inſtead of a ſharp Gravel and crowded Walks, like our Park, you may wander about [331] at full Liberty, and tread upon a verdant Carpet all the Time, which to tender-footed Folks makes a great Difference. We have ſeen ſeveral private Collections of Paintings, and other Curioſities, that do great Honour to the Taſte and Judgment of the Poſſeſſors: but nothing charms me ſo much, as a noble Collection of Pictures at the Palais Royale, which belongs to the Duke of ORLEANS, firſt Prince of the Blood, and were chiefly purchaſed by the famous Regent. The grand Opera here is the fineſt Thing to ſee one can poſſibly imagine; the Scenes are ſplendid, the Dreſſes rich and elegant, the Dances compoſed with infinite Taſte, and finely executed, and the Stage much better filled than ours: but the Muſic is truly deteſtable; 'tis all French, and from the Beginning to the End like a ſolemn Dirge. As for the Voices, if you will imagine a Concert compoſed of Cats, Owls, and Monkeys, it will give you a tolerable Idea of the Harmony, and whoever aſſaſſinates your Ears with the greateſt Violence is moſt applauded. The French comic Opera is as agreeable as the ſerious one is the reverſe. The Songs are all ſprightly Italian [332] Airs; the Scenery and Dreſſes, as at the other, excel ours, and to my Fancy, this is the moſt agreeable Amuſement Paris affords; their Manner of acting Plays, I own, does not charm me, after being uſed to the genteel, familiar Dialogue of our Engliſh Comedies; and even in Tragedy, I think they have too much Energy, both of Voice and Action. I ſhould not thus familiarly play the Critic, were I not perfectly well acquainted with your Candour and Good-nature; for, after all, I am talking of what I don't underſtand, and am as likely to be wrong as right. So much by Way of Digreſſion, a Liberty all modern Novelliſts allow themſelves; and now my Narrative proceeds to the Chapter of Faſhions, for the Sake of the female Members of your Party. The Ladies in general would, I believe, be handſome, but for two ſhocking Dabs of Crimſon, or Scarlet, which ſome prefer, in a circular Form, directly under each Eye, which makes them look juſt like ſo many Furies; the Hair dreſſed out of all Proportion, for often the Height of the Hair is more a great Deal than the Length of the whole Face; even I, who am quite moderate, am at leaſt three Inches [333] of Toupée taller than I was when I left England; the Hoops are very ſmall, the Ruffles very moderate, and the Necks more covered than in England; the Gowns are made very high behind, and pin pretty cloſe before, and almoſt as wide at Bottom as at Top; the Pleats of the Sacks behind are made narrower than ours. The married Ladies (indeed we never ſee any other in public) all wear very ſmall Caps. The Court being in Mourning, prevents our ſeeing any other finery than Diamonds, in which the Ladies ſeem to abound, in general, more than in England. Not a Head of any Sort have I yet ſeen that is not abſolutely plaiſtered with Pomatum and Powder, thoſe of the Poor as well as the Rich; I wonder the Conſumption of Flower in this Metropolis of well-dreſſed dirty People, does not breed a Famine: the Streets are always ſo crowded with them, that you would ſwear Paris was the moſt populous Place, and the Pariſians the moſt idle Set of People, in the whole World. A faſhionable Cuſtom here is, when the Comedy is finiſhed, to drive to what is called the Grande Boule Vert, one Side of which is ſhaded with Trees, and the other filled with [334] large Coffee-houſes, finely illuminated, where you ſee all Manner of Sport going forward, as Eating, Dancing, Muſic, Puppet-Shows, Conjurers, Fireworks, Fire-Eaters, Giants, Lilliputians, &c. &c. in ſhort, you may be amuſed, in about the Length of the Mall, from eight in the Evening till three in the Morning; but the genteel Way is only to drive up and down the Walk without getting out of your Carriage. I am afraid that my Deſcription of Paris, and its Amuſements, will tire both your Eyes and your Patience, at leaſt, it has done ſo by me, and I have ſcribbled in ſuch a Hurry, that it is not fit to ſend; but I flatter myſelf, you would rather have a Letter ill written, than none; I am mortified though, that it will coſt you a great deal more poſtage than it is worth, and by the Time it reaches you, we ſhall probably be purſuing our Journey, ſo that I cannot hope to hear a Word of or from our dear Society till I get to Venice. In the mean Time, I beg to be remembered in the kindeſt Manner, to every Member, and that you will believe me to be, as I ever am, with Truth and Sincerity, yours and the Society's truly affectionate and obliged

S. N—.
[335]

I hope you are able to enjoy this charming Weather, (for I hope 'tis ſuch with you as well as with us) by taking many agreeable Walks in your delightful Meads. I aſſure you the Seine is nothing comparable to the Avon, and the Pont Neuf, ſo much extolled by Fame and Frenchmen, is a paltry Affair, in Compariſon of Weſtminſter-Bridge. Now I muſt have done, and I am ſure you will be glad of it.

I was ſo charmed, and ſo moved laſt Night at the Tragedy of Zayre, that I am almoſt tempted to recant what I have ſaid againſt the French Tragedians; but I ſtill feel a Partiality for our own Actors. I will not be ſo unreaſonable to teize you any longer with my Scrawl; once more adieu.

LETTER LXXII. Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

[336]
My dear Friend,

THE greateſt Pleaſure I can feel during my Exile is to hear good Accounts frequently of thoſe Friends in England that are moſt dear to me. I hope you will anſwer this very ſoon, and be ſo good as to direct your Letter to me as uſual, under Cover to Mr. —, who has the Care of ſending our Letters to the Secretary of State's Office, by which Means I receive my Letters much ſafer, than when they are not put in the Packet. It is not yet quite three Months ſince I left England, and I declare it appears to me three Years already; we were ſo fortunate, as to perform our Journey without one unlucky Accident. On the twentieth of July, of all Days in the Year, we began our Peregrinations, and arrived here on the twentieth of Auguſt, after ſtopping about five Days on the Road, to [337] ſee different Places that were worthy of Obſervation. We made no ſmall Figure, I aſſure you, at ſetting out; our Train conſiſting of two Poſt-Coaches and two Poſt-Chaiſes: to our no ſmall Amuſement, we were miſtaken for Foreigners all the Way to Dover, which, I ſuppoſe, was owing to our wearing large French Caps without Hats, and our Gentlemen being dreſſed in looſe French Coats, which are the moſt convenient Kind of Dreſs for travelling. We were not quite three Hours croſſing the Water; the Quickneſs of the Paſſage ſcarcely made up for the Roughneſs of it, which was really frightful, even to me, who am no deſpicable Sailor for a Female In ſhort, I was the only Perſon well enough to nurſe, which was very neceſſary for the other Females in our Party. At Calais we found two excellent Berlins waiting to conduct us to Straſbourg, in which we proceeded with our two Engliſh Chaiſes. Our Route was quite different from that by which we once went from Straſbourg to Paris, to my no ſmall Joy, for I think a twice-gone Road almoſt as bad as a twice-told Tale. I had an Opportunity, by this Means, of ſeeing Beauties in [338] Champaigne, which, till then, I had no Idea of; for many Miles the Road formed an actual Terraſs, bounded on one Side by little Hills, interſperſed with Vineyards and Corn Fields, and on the other Side, the Eye is led, by a gentle Deſcent, down to the moſt fertile Vales, the Verdure of which could ſcarcely be conceived from the Painting of paſtoral Poetry; through theſe, for an immenſe Way, meanders a moſt beautiful ſerpentine River, whoſe Banks are adorned with innumerable Droves of Cattle of every Sort, which puts one in Mind of the peaceful Reign of the Patriarchs, ſince, being undivided, they appear to be the Property of one Maſter. You will ſcarcely think, my good Friend, that theſe ſmiling Scenes could raiſe melancholy Ideas, and yet they had that Effect upon my Mind; in almoſt every Village we paſſed through, which had looked beautiful at a Diſtance, we found all the Appearance of Wretchedneſs and Want that you ſee in the moſt dreary Parts of Savoy, for what the Extravagance and Luxury of the Prince of CONDE (part of whoſe immenſe Territory this is) leaves to the Peaſants, is wrecked from them by the lazy Prieſts, who, like Locuſts, [339] ſeem to be ſent only to eat up the Riches of the Land; here you ſee no hoſpitable Gentleman's Seat; no warm, neat Cottages; thoſe are Comforts reſerved only for the Engliſh, who would, perhaps, be more grateful for the Bleſſings they enjoy, if they poſſeſſed fewer of them. But to return to our Journey; the fine Seaſon of the Year, good Roads, and every where tolerable Accommodations, carried us in twelve Days to Straſbourg, where we ſtopped for three Days, and where you may, if you pleaſe, ſuppoſe we ſhall remain till you hear from me next, as I ſhall defer the Reſt of my Account of our Journey for a future Letter.

The Maſking is juſt begun, and two comic Operas, and two Play-Houſes opened; I have been once at the Opera, and caught ſuch a Cold, (partly, I ſuppoſe, a Tribute to the Seaſon of the Year, and partly to Change of Climate) that, for fear of the like Accident, I ſhall frequent Theatres very little, unleſs I am tempted by a Party.

[340]I fear, my dear Friends, your Patience will be quite tired out before you get to the Concluſion of this very long Letter; but as I can only ſend a ſingle Letter, I could not reſiſt taking the largeſt Paper, and I cannot bear to ſend it you blank.

I am juſt in the diſagreeable Situation I was this Time two Years, when I was ſo happy to be with you, almoſt all my worldly Goods being at the Mercy of the Waves, and the Ship ought to have been here at leaſt a Month ago. Adieu, my deareſt Friends; may you enjoy every earthly Good, and may we be mutually happy in a joyful Meeting, is the earneſt Wiſh and Prayer of

your ſincerely affectionate S. N—.

LETTER LXXIII. Miſs N— to Mr. HULL.

[341]

I Received with infinite Pleaſure, my dear Friends, your very kind Letter; the good Account you give of yourſelves is really and truly a Happineſs to me, and you have my ſincere Prayers and good Wiſhes, that your Health and Spirits may daily improve. I make no Doubt, but your Tour was a delightful one: there is about you, our ſweet Patroneſs, a certain Chearfulneſs and Good-humour that proceeds immediately from the Heart, that not only illuminates her own Diſpoſition, but inſpires thoſe about her with the moſt pleaſing Senſations the human Mind is capable of feeling. I beg of you to preſent my beſt Affections to the Doctor and Mrs. W—, and aſſure them, that I take the ſincereſt Part in their Affliction; my good Papa's filial Piety always appeared to me a [342] ſhining Part of his Character—my Love and ſincere good Wiſhes attend every Member of the dear Society; would to God I could ſay, I had any Proſpect of being ſoon re-united to that beſt of all poſſible Societies: but, alas! that is not to be hoped for: what muſt be, muſt be, and I make no Doubt 'tis right.

Now, my dear Friend, I muſt beg of you to take a Step back with me to Straſbourg, for there, I think, we parted laſt; from thence we ſteered our Courſe to Ball, (or Bazill, as it is called in the Maps) in Switzerland. This Change in our Route delighted me,. We were induced to make this little Round, to avoid a great Part of Swabia, where we heard the Roads were almoſt impaſſable, the Water unwholſome, a great Scarcity of Proviſions, and the Meaſles raging every where; Ball is extremely well worth the Obſervation of Travellers; the Situation is on a very noble Part of the Rhine, which runs through the Town; it alſo merits the Attention of the Lovers of Virtù, as the beſt Relict of the famous HOLBENS (known by the Name of Death's Dance) is preſerved in the public Library. From Ball [343] we proceeded to Schafhauſen, another of the proteſtant Swiſs Cantons; about three Miles hence is the Cataract of the Rhine, an Object which I contemplated with a Mixture of Horror and Pleaſure, eaſier to be felt than deſcribed, which I beg you will tell my Papa conveyed to me a clearer Idea of the Sublime and Beautiful, than I could ever gather even from Mr. BURKE. We next travelled a very pleaſant Road, and caught many fine Views of the famous Lake de Conſtance: but upon the whole, though I like Swiſſerland well enough, en-paſſant, there is an unpoliſhed melancholy Air, even in the greateſt Towns, that is diſguſting. When we got into the Tyrrol, every Thing loſt the Charm of Novelty to me, and I had only the mortifying Reflection to make, that when I laſt paſſed thoſe rugged Paths, I was going towards England, and now, alas! was going from it. As we met with no Adventures new or ſurpriſing, I will trouble you with no further Particulars of our Journey, ſave that we arrived at Venice the twentieth of Auguſt, after being exactly a Month on the Road, without meeting with one Overturn, broken [344] Axeltree, or other ſiniſter Accident whatever.

And now let me ſay a few Words for myſelf, independent of Company. Since the twenty ſixth of December, every Creature here, that has Spirits enough to be ſo, has appeared quite mad; indeed, Venice (in Carnival-Time eſpecially) is only fit for thoſe who can place their Happineſs in Vice, Folly, and Diſſipation; indeed, I am not only a profeſſed, but a ſincere Enemy to theſe three: you will believe me, when I tell you, that I am horridly out of my Element here, and I feel the greateſt Conviction, that I ſhall never taſte a hearty Satisfaction, till I again enjoy our rational, dear friendly Society; but I fear the Time is very far diſtant when I ſhall be allowed to partake of ſuch enviable Amuſements. You know I mean, in this Declaration, only to refer to the Cuſtoms of the Place, not to the Party wherewith I came, which is indiſputably as rational and amiable as can be enjoyed, uninterrupted with Hurry of Place and ceremonial Viſitors. I believe you have often heard me mention a Mrs. S—, a very particular Friend of mine, [345] who has been ſettled here many Years, and now, having loſt a Huſband in his ninety-ninth or hundredth Year, ſhe is preparing to return to England; we have talked ſo much and ſo often of you all, that ſhe is perſuaded ſhe is acquainted with you, and begs me to give her Compliments to you; and I verily believe, ſhe will be tempted when ſhe arrives, to make you a friendly Viſit.

I am aſhamed to ſend you ſuch a horrid Scrawl, but I have wrote it by Snatches, with moſt vile Implements; the Date will faithfully ſhew you it was begun on the twentyſixth of January, and now I am concluding it on the ninth of February, ſo that you may be aſſured, though I ſeem dilatory in writing, I, by no Means, intend to be ſo. I was in Hopes to have popped this into a Diſpatch: but, alas! they are grown ſcarce Commodities at our Houſe.

We have no leſs than three Operas and four Play Houſes open; and, would you believe it! I am grown ſo old or ſo ſtupid, that I prefer a Book or a Pen by the Fire-Side, to [346] any of them. I am much abuſed for this Want of Taſte; but ſo hardened a Sinner am I, that it grows every Day ſtronger on me. Adieu, my dear good Friend; may every Felicity and Bleſſing attend you all! Such is the ſincere Prayer of your ever

faithful and affectionate S. N—.
FINIS.

Appendix A Books publiſhed by J. Dodſley.

[]

N. B. The Books are to be underſtood as bound, except where mentioned otherwiſe.

  • 1. THE ANNUAL REGISTER, or a View of the Hiſtory, Politicks, and Literature of the preſent Times. Commencing in the Year 1758, continued to the Year 1776, and to be continued annually, 8vo. 5s. 6d. each Volume, half bound.
  • 2. Polymetis; or, an Enquiry concerning the Works of the Roman Poets, and the Remains of the antient Artiſts. Being an Attempt to illuſtrate them mutually from one another. In Ten Books. By the Rev. Mr. Spence. Illuſtrated with a great Number of fine Prints, folio, 2l. 12s. 6d.
  • 3. The Works of Dr. Jonathan Swift, D. S. P. D. in 22 vols. large 8vo. 6l. 12s.
  • 4. The ſame Book, in 24 vols. ſmall 8vo. 3l. 12s.
  • 5. The ſame Book, in 21 vols. 18mo. 2l. 2s.
  • 6. The Letters of Pliny the Conſul; with occaſional Remarks. By William Melmoth, Eſq. 2 vol. 8vo. 10s.
  • 7. The Letters of Marcus Tullius Cicero to ſeveral of his Friends; with Remarks. By William Melmoth, Eſq. 3 vols. 8vo. 18s.
  • []8. The Letters of Sir Thomas Fitzoſborne, Bart. by the Tranſlator of Pliny's Letters, &c. 8vo. 5s.
  • 9. The Preceptor; containing a general Courſe of Education; wherein the firſt Principles of polite Learning are laid down in a Way moſt ſuitable for trying the Genius, and advancing the Inſtruction of Youth: in Twelve Parts, viz. 1. On Reading, Speaking, and Writing Letters. 2. On Geometry. 3. On Geography and Aſtronomy. 4. On Chronology and Hiſtory. 5. On Rhetorick and Poetry. 6. On Drawing. 7. On Logic. 8. On Natural Hiſtory. 9. On Ethics or Morality. 10. On Trade and Commerce. 11. On Laws and Government. 12. On Human Life and Manners.

    The ſeveral Parts of this Compendium of polite Learning are executed in ſo judicious a Manner, as to render them, not only neceſſary for Youth at Schools; but of Service to Gentlemen alſo, who would either retain what they may have formerly learned there, or acquire what has hitherto been ſeldom there taught. Illuſtrated with Maps and other Cuts, 2 vols. 8vo. 12s.

  • 10. A Collection of Poems by ſeveral Hands, 6 vols. ſmall 8vo. 18s.
  • 11. The ſame Book, printed on a large Letter and Paper, in 6 vols. 1l. 16s.
  • 12. Odes of Pindar, with ſeveral other Pieces in Proſe and Verſe, tranſlated from the Greek. [] To which is prefixed, a Diſſertation on the Olympick Games. By Gilbert Weſt, Eſq. LL.D. 4to. 12s.
  • 13. The ſame Book, in 3 vol. 12mo. 9s.
  • 14. Obſervations on the Hiſtory and Evidences of the Reſurrection of Jeſus Chriſt. By Gilbert Weſt, Eſq. LL.D.
  • 15. The Works of the Rev. Dr. Edward Young, 4 vols. 12mo. 12s.
  • 16. The Works of the Rev. Dr. Edward Young, vol. 5, 12mo. 3s.
  • 17. The Complaint; or, Night Thoughts on Life, Death, and Immortality. By Dr. Young, 12mo. 3s.
  • 18. The Centaur not Fabulous, in ſix Letters, on the Life in Vogue. By Dr. Young, 12mo. 3s.
  • 19. A philoſophical Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful, 8vo. 5s.
  • 20. The Adventurer. By John Hawkeſworth, Eſq. and others, 4 vols. 12mo. 12s.
  • 21. Poems by Dr. Akenſide, 4to. 1l. 1s.
  • 22. The ſame Book, in 8vo. 6s.
  • []23. The new Bath Guide, or Memoirs of the B—r—d Family, in a Series of poetical Epiſtles, 2s. 6d. ſewed.
  • 24. A comparative View of the State and Faculties of Man with thoſe of the Animal World, 12mo. 3s.
  • 25. Letters from Juliet Lady Cateſby to her Friend Lady Henrietta Campley, 12mo. 3s.
  • 26. The Hiſtory of Lady Julia Mandeville. 2 vols. 12mo. 6s.
  • 27. The Hiſtory of Emily Montagu, 4 vols. 12mo. 12s.
  • 28. The World, by Adam Fitz-Adam, 4 vols. 12mo. 12s.
  • 29. Viſions in Verſe, for the Entertainment and Inſtruction of younger Minds, 12mo. 2s.
  • 30. Poems by John Dyer, LL.B. viz. 1. Grongar-Hill. 2. The Ruins of Rome. 3. The Fleece in four Books. Small 8vo. 3s.
  • 31. Fables for the Female Sex. By Edward Moore, adorned with Cuts, 8vo. 5s.
  • 32. Poems by Mr. Gray, with Deſigns by Mr. Bentley, large 4to. 10s. 6d. boards.
  • []33. Reliques of Antient Engliſh Poetry: conſiſting of old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and other Pieces of our earlier Poets (chiefly of the Lyric Kind) together with ſome few of later Date, 3 vols. ſmall 8vo. 10s. 6d.
  • 34. The Microſcope made eaſy; or, 1. The Nature, Uſes, and magnifying Powers of the beſt Kinds of Microſcopes deſcribed, calculated, and explained; for the Inſtruction of ſuch particularly as deſire to ſearch into the Wonders of the Minute Creation, though they are not acquainted with Optics; together with full Directions how to prepare, apply, examine, and preſerve, all Sorts of Objects, and proper Cautions to be obſerved in viewing them. 2. An Account of what ſurpriſing Diſcoveries have been already made by the Microſcope; with uſeful Reflections on them. And alſo a great Variety of new Experiments and Obſervations, pointing out many uncommon Subjects for the Examination of the Curious. By Henry Baker, F. R. S. and of the Society of Antiquaries in London, 8vo. 5s.
  • 35. Employment for the Microſcope; containing Examinations of a great Variety of Subſtances, with Directions how to prepare ſuch Subſtances, alſo occaſional Conſiderations on them; and an Account of various Animalcules never before deſcribed, and many other microſcopical Diſcoveries. By Henry Baker, F. R. S. and of the Society of Antiquaries, 8vo. 6s.
  • []36. An Attempt towards a Natural Hiſtory of the Polype, with a real Courſe of Experiments, performed by cutting theſe Creatures every Way that can be eaſily contrived; ſhewing the daily Progreſs of each Part towards becoming a perfect Polype. By Henry Baker, F. R. S. and of the Society of Antiquaries, 8vo. 4s.
  • 37. The Anatomy of the Human Body. By W. Cheſelden, Surgeon to His Majeſty's Royal Hoſpital at Chelſea, F. R. S. and Member of the A [...]y of Surgeons at Paris; illuſtrated with forty Copper Plates, 8vo. 6s.
  • 38. The Operations in Surgery of Monſ. Le Dran. Tranſlated by Mr. Gataker; with Remarks, Plates of the Operations, and a Set of Inſtruments, by Mr. Cheſelden, 8vo. 6s.
  • 39. Select Fables of Aeſop and other Fabuliſts. In three Books; 1. Fables from the Antients. 2. Fables from the Moderns. 3. Fables newly invented. To which are prefixed, the Life of Aeſop, and an Eſſay on Fable. By R. Dodſley, with Cuts to every Fable, 12mo. 3s.
  • 40. The ſame Book, elegantly printed by Mr. Baſkerville, ſmall 8vo. 5s.
  • 41. Original Letters, written by Mr. Pope to a Lady, and not printed in his Works, ſmall 8vo. 2s.
Notes
*
This and the following Letters are miſ-numbered by Miſtake.
*
To baniſh the profane Vulgar.
*
Souls that are deſirous of little Praiſe.
*
The Editor can give no preciſe Account of the Dates of Mr. WHISTLER's Letters. This laſt, however, from his Brother muſt have been written in the Year 1754; that being the Year which deprived him of ſo valuable a Brother, and Mr. SHENSTONE of ſuch an amiable Friend and Correſpondent. According to this Calculation, theſe Letters of Mr. WHISTLER ſhould have come earlier in this Collection, but they did not come Time enough into the Editor's Hands. The ſame Reaſon muſt alſo be advanced for ſome other Letters being miſplaced in Point of Time; but as the ſeveral Subjects are independent of each other, it is an Error (the Editor preſumes) which the Reader will more readily excuſe.
*
The Tragedy of Cleone, produced at Covent-Garden Theatre.
*
Author of the Sublime and Beautiful.
*
The preſent Sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
*
A haſty and imperfect Compilation of ſome Scenes, on the Subject of ROSAMOND, which, however, laid the Ground-Work of the preſent Tragedy, acted at Covent-Garden Theatre. The Public may eaſily diſcern how fully the Author has availed himſelf of the kind and judicious Hints contained in the Letter before us.
Introduced in a Pantomime performed the ſame Evening.
*
Antient Poetry, now publiſhed in three Volumes; the univerſal Eſtimation and Encouragement of which Work, ſufficiently teſtifies its Excellence.
*
Epilogue to the Tragedy of Hecuba, produced that Year at Drury-Lane Theatre.
The Editor's Uncle.
*
See GRAY's Elegy in a Country Church-Yard.
*
See a Paſſage about an Aſs in his Sentimental Journey.
*
Abſtain from Beans.
*
POPE's Rape of the Lock.
*
This Letter (like ſome others in this Collection) is purpoſely miſplaced in Point of Date, in Order to connect Matter rather than Periods—the enſuing being wholly from one Correſpondent, and comprehending, among them, Obſervations on the Venetian Republic.
*
This and the enſuing Letters are the Tranſcripts deſired in the foregoing, which, the Editor preſumes, are not an unwelcome Addition.
*
This and the following are evidently written on a ſecond Trip to Venice.
Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4863 Select letters between the late Duchess of Somerset Lady Luxborough and others including a sketch of the manners laws c of the republic of Venice The whole now first published from ori. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5E97-1