Chapter LIX: Book III: , chap, i, p. 326, line 19: for “Frank”, Thackeray by an (14)

102 “As to the pursuits after affection and esteem, the fair sex are
happy in this particular, that with them the one is much more nearly
related to the other than in men. The love of a woman is inseparable
from some esteem of her; and as she is naturally the object of
affection, the woman who has your esteem has also some degree of
your love. A man that dotes on a woman for her beauty, will whisper
his friend, ‘that creature has a great deal of wit when you are well
acquainted with her.’ And if you examine the bottom of your esteem
for a woman, you will find you have a greater opinion of her beauty
than anybody else. As to us men, I design to pass most of my time
with the facetious Harry Bickerstaff; but William Bickerstaff, the
most prudent man of our family, shall be my executor.”—_Tatler_, No.
206.

103 The Correspondence of Steele passed after his death into the
possession of his daughter Elizabeth, by his second wife, Miss
Scurlock, of Carmarthenshire. She married the Hon. John, afterwards
third Lord Trevor. At her death, part of the letters passed to Mr.
Thomas, a grandson of a natural daughter of Steele’s; and part to
Lady Trevor’s next of kin, Mr. Scurlock. They were published by the
learned Nichols—from whose later edition of them, in 1809, our
specimens are quoted.

Here we have him, in his courtship—which was not a very long one.

TO MRS. SCURLOCK

“Aug. 30, 1707.

“MADAM,—

“I beg pardon that my paper is not finer, but I am forced to write
from a coffee-house, where I am attending about business. There is a
dirty crowd of busy faces all around me, talking of money; while all
my ambition, all my wealth, is love! Love which animates my heart,
sweetens my humour, enlarges my soul; and affects every action of my
life. It is to my lovely charmer I owe, that many noble ideas are
continually affixed to my words and actions; it is the natural
effect of that generous passion to create in the admirer some
similitude of the object admired. Thus, my dear, am I every day to
improve from so sweet a companion. Look up, my fair one, to that
Heaven which made thee such; and join with me to implore its
influence on our tender innocent hours, and beseech the Author of
love to bless the rites He has ordained—and mingle with our
happiness a just sense of our transient condition, and a resignation
to His will, which only can regulate our minds to a steady endeavour
to please Him and each other.

“I am for ever your faithful servant,

“RICH. STEELE.”

Some few hours afterwards, apparently, Mistress Scurlock received
the next one—obviously written later in the day!

“Saturday night (Aug. 30, 1707).

“DEAR, LOVELY MRS. SCURLOCK,—

“I have been in very good company, where your health, under the
character of _the woman I loved best_, has been often drunk; so that
I may say that I am dead drunk for your sake, which is more than _I
die for you_.

“RICH. STEELE.”

TO MRS. SCURLOCK.

“Sept. 1, 1707.

“MADAM,—

“It is the hardest thing in the world to be in love, and yet attend
business. As for me, all who speak to me find me out, and I must
lock myself up, or other people will do it for me.

“A gentleman asked me this morning, ‘What news from Lisbon?’ and I
answered, ‘She is exquisitely handsome.’ Another desired to know
‘when I had last been at Hampton Court?’ I replied, ‘It will be on
Tuesday come se’nnight.’ Pr’ythee allow me at least to kiss your
hand before that day, that my mind may be in some composure. O Love!

“A thousand torments dwell about thee,
Yet who could live, to live without thee?

“Methinks I could write a volume to you; but all the language on
earth would fail in saying how much, and with what disinterested
passion,

“I am ever yours,
“RICH. STEELE.”

Two days after this, he is found expounding his circumstances and
prospects to the young lady’s mamma. He dates from “Lord
Sunderland’s office, Whitehall”; and states his clear income at
1,025_l._ per annum. “I promise myself,” says he, “the pleasure of
an industrious and virtuous life, in studying to do things agreeable
to you.”

They were married according to the most probable conjectures about
the 7th inst. There are traces of a tiff about the middle of the
next month; she being prudish and fidgety, as he was impassioned and
reckless. General progress, however, may be seen from the following
notes. The “house in Bury Street, St. James’s”, was now taken.

TO MRS. STEELE.

“Oct. 16, 1707.

“DEAREST BEING ON EARTH,—

“Pardon me if you do not see me till eleven o’clock, having met a
schoolfellow from India, by whom I am to be informed on things this
night which expressly concern your obedient husband,

“RICH. STEELE.”

TO MRS. STEELE.

“Eight o’clock, Fountain Tavern,

“Oct. 22, 1707.

“MY DEAR,—

“I beg of you not to be uneasy; for I have done a great deal of
business to-day very successfully, and wait an hour or two about my
_Gazette_.”

“Dec. 22, 1707.

“MY DEAR, DEAR WIFE,—

“I write to let you know I do not come home to dinner, being obliged
to attend some business abroad, of which I shall give you an account
(when I see you in the evening), as becomes your dutiful and
obedient husband.”

“Devil Tavern, Temple Bar.

“Jan. 3, 1707-8.

“DEAR PRUE,—

“I have partly succeeded in my business to-day, and inclose two
guineas as earnest of more. Dear Prue, I cannot come home to dinner.
I languish for your welfare, and will never be a moment careless
more.

“Your faithful husband,” &c.

“Jan. 14, 1707-8.

“DEAR WIFE,—

“Mr. Edgecombe, Ned Ask, and Mr. Lumley, have desired me to sit an
hour with them at the George, in Pall Mall, for which I desire your
patience till twelve o’clock, and that you will go to bed,” &c.

“Gray’s Inn, Feb. 3, 1708.

“DEAR PRUE,—

“If the man who has my shoemaker’s bill calls, let him be answered
that I shall call on him as I come home. I stay here in order to get
Jonson to discount a bill for me, and shall dine with him for that
end. He is expected at home every minute.

“Your most humble, obedient servant,” &c.

“Tennis Court Coffee-house,
“May 5, 1708.

“DEAR WIFE,—

“I hope I have done this day what will be pleasing to you; in the
meantime shall lie this night at a baker’s, one Leg, over against
the ‘Devil’ Tavern, at Charing Cross. I shall be able to confront
the fools who wish me uneasy, and shall have the satisfaction to see
thee cheerful and at ease.

“If the printer’s boy be at home, send him hither; and let Mrs. Todd
send by the boy my night-gown, slippers, and clean linen. You shall
hear from me early in the morning,” &c.

Dozens of similar letters follow, with occasional guineas, little
parcels of tea, or walnuts, &c. In 1709 the _Tatler_ made its
appearance. The following curious note dates April 7, 1710:—

“I inclose to you [‘Dear Prue’] a receipt for the saucepan and
spoon, and a note of 23_l_. of Lewis’s, which will make up the
50_l._ I promised for your ensuing occasion.

“I know no happiness in this life in any degree comparable to the
pleasure I have in your person and society. I only beg of you to add
to your other charms a fearfulness to see a man that loves you in
pain and uneasiness, to make me as happy as it is possible to be in
this life. Rising a little in a morning, and being disposed to a
cheerfulness ... would not be amiss.”

In another, he is found excusing his coming home, being “invited to
supper to Mr. Boyle’s”. “Dear Prue,” he says on this occasion, “do
not send after me, for I shall be ridiculous.”

104 Of this famous Bishop, Steele wrote,—

Virtue with so much ease on Bangor sits,
All faults he pardons, though he none commits.

105 Here we have some of his later letters:—

TO LADY STEELE.
“Hampton Court, March 16, 1716-17.

“DEAR PRUE,

“If you have written anything to me which I should have received
last night, I beg your pardon that I cannot answer till the next
post.... Your son at the present writing is mighty well employed in
tumbling on the floor of the room and sweeping the sand with a
feather. He grows a most delightful child, and very full of play and
spirit. He is also a very great scholar: he can read his primer; and
I have brought down my Virgil. He makes most shrewd remarks about
the pictures. We are very intimate friends and playfellows. He
begins to be very ragged; and I hope I shall be pardoned if I equip
him with new clothes and frocks, or what Mrs. Evans and I shall
think for his service.”

TO LADY STEELE.
[Undated.]

“You tell me you want a little flattery from me. I assure you I know
no one who deserves so much commendation as yourself, and to whom
saying the best things would be so little like flattery. The thing
speaks for itself, considering you as a very handsome woman that
loves retirement—one who does not want wit, and yet is extremely
sincere; and so I could go through all the vices which attend the
good qualities of other people, of which you are exempt. But,
indeed, though you have every perfection, you have an extravagant
fault, which almost frustrates the good in you to me; and that is,
that you do not love to dress, to appear, to shine out, even at my
request, and to make me proud of you, or rather to indulge the pride
I have that you are mine....

“Your most affectionate, obsequious husband,
“RICH. STEELE.

“A quarter of Molly’s schooling is paid. The children are perfectly
well.”

TO LADY STEELE.
“March 26, 1717.

“MY DEAREST PRUE,

“I have received yours, wherein you give me the sensible affliction
of telling me enow of the continual pain in your head.... When I lay
in your place, and on your pillow, I assure you I fell into tears
last night, to think that my charming little insolent might be then
awake and in pain; and took it to be a sin to go to sleep.

“For this tender passion towards you, I must be contented that your
_Prueship_ will condescend to call yourself my well-wisher.”

At the time when the above later letters were written, Lady Steele
was in Wales, looking after her estate there. Steele, about this
time, was much occupied with a project for conveying fish alive, by
which, as he constantly assures his wife, he firmly believed he
should make his fortune. It did not succeed, however.

Lady Steele died in December of the succeeding year. She lies buried
in Westminster Abbey.

106 Lord Chesterfield sends these verses to Voltaire in a characteristic
letter.

107 Steele replied to Dennis in an _Answer to a Whimsical Pamphlet,
called __“__The Character of Sir John Edgar__”_. What Steele had to
say against the cross-grained old Critic discovers a great deal of
humour:

“Thou never didst let the sun into thy garret, for fear he should
bring a bailiff along with him....

“Your years are about sixty-five, an ugly, vinegar face, that if you
had any command you would be obeyed out of fear, from your
ill-nature pictured there; not from any other motive. Your height is
about some five feet five inches. You see I can give your exact
measure as well as if I had taken your dimension with a good cudgel,
which I promise you to do as soon as ever I have the good fortune to
meet you....

“Your doughty paunch stands before you like a firkin of butter, and
your duck-legs seem to be cast for carrying burdens.

“Thy works are libels upon others, and satires upon thyself; and
while they bark at men of sense, call him knave and fool that wrote
them. Thou hast a great antipathy to thy own species; and hatest the
sight of a fool but in thy glass.”

Steele had been kind to Dennis, and once got arrested on account of
a pecuniary service which he did him. When John heard of the
fact—“’Sdeath!” cries John; “why did not he keep out of the way as I
did?”

The _Answer_ concludes by mentioning that Cibber had offered Ten
Pounds for the discovery of the authorship of Dennis’s pamphlet; on
which, says Steele,—

“I am only sorry he has offered so much, because the _twentieth
part_ would have over-valued his whole carcass. But I know the
fellow that he keeps to give answers to his creditors will betray
him; for he gave me his word to bring officers on the top of the
house that should make a hole through the ceiling of his garret, and
so bring him to the punishment he deserves. Some people think this
expedient out of the way, and that he would make his escape upon
hearing the least noise. I say so too; but it takes him up half an
hour every night to fortify himself with his old hair trunk, two or
three joint-stools, and some other lumber, which he ties together
with cords so fast that it takes him up the same time in the morning
to release himself.”

108 Gay calls him—“Dear Prior ... beloved by every muse”.—_Mr. Pope’s
Welcome from Greece._

Swift and Prior were very intimate, and he is frequently mentioned
in the _Journal to Stella_. “Mr. Prior,” says Swift, “walks to make
himself fat, and I to keep myself down.... We often walk round the
park together.”

In Swift’s works there is a curious tract called _Remarks on the
Characters of the Court of Queen Anne_ [Scott’s edition, vol. xii].
The _Remarks_ are not by the Dean: but at the end of each is an
addition in italics from his hand, and these are always
characteristic. Thus, to the Duke of Marlborough, he adds,
“_Detestably Covetous_,” &c. Prior is thus noticed—

“MATTHEW PRIOR, ESQ., Commissioner of Trade.

“On the Queen’s accession to the throne, he was continued in his
office; is very well at Court with the ministry, and is an entire
creature of my Lord Jersey’s, whom he supports by his advice; is one
of the best poets in England, but very facetious in conversation. A
thin, hollow-looked man, turned of 40 years old. _This is near the
truth._”

Yet counting as far as to fifty his years,
His virtues and vices were as other men’s are,
High hopes he conceived and he smothered great fears,
In a life party-coloured—half pleasure, half care.

Not to business a drudge, nor to faction a slave,
He strove to make interest and freedom agree,
In public employments industrious and grave,
And alone with his friends, Lord, how merry was he!

Now in equipage stately, now humbly on foot,
Both fortunes he tried, but to neither would trust;
And whirled in the round as the wheel turned about,
He found riches had wings, and knew man was but dust.

PRIOR’S _Poems_. [“For my own monument.”]

109 “They joined to produce a parody, entitled _The Town and Country
Mouse_, part of which Mr. Bayes is supposed to gratify his old
friends Smart and Johnson, by repeating to them. The piece is
therefore founded upon the twice-told jest of the _Rehearsal_....
There is nothing new or original in the idea.... In this piece,
Prior, though the younger man, seems to have had by far the largest
share.”—SCOTT’S _Dryden_, vol. i, p. 330.

110 “He was to have been in the same commission with the Duke of
Shrewsbury, but that that nobleman,” says Johnson, “refused to be
associated with one so meanly born. Prior therefore continued to act
without a title till the duke’s return next year to England, and
then he assumed the style and dignity of ambassador.”

He had been thinking of slights of this sort when he wrote his
Epitaph:—

Nobles and heralds by your leave,
Here lies what once was Matthew Prior,
The son of Adam and of Eve;
Can Bourbon or Nassau claim higher?

But, in this case, the old prejudice got the better of the old joke.

111 His epigrams have the genuine sparkle:

THE REMEDY WORSE THAN THE DISEASE.

I sent for Radcliff; was so ill,
That other doctors gave me over:
He felt my pulse, prescribed a pill,
And I was likely to recover.

But when the wit began to wheeze,
And wine had warmed the politician,
Cured yesterday of my disease,
I died last night of my physician.

——

Yes, every poet is a fool;
By demonstration Ned can show it;
Happy could Ned’s inverted rule
Prove every fool to be a poet.

——

On his death-bed poor Lubin lies,
His spouse is in despair;
With frequent sobs and mutual sighs,
They both express their care.

A different cause, says Parson Sly,
The same effect may give;
Poor Lubin fears that he shall die,
His wife that he may live.

112 PRIOR TO SIR THOMAS HANMER.

“Aug. 4, 1709.

“DEAR SIR,

“Friendship may live, I grant you, without being fed and cherished
by correspondence; but with that additional benefit I am of opinion
it will look more cheerful and thrive better: for in this case, as
in love, though a man is sure of his own constancy, yet his
happiness depends a good deal upon the sentiments of another, and
while you and Chloe are alive, ’tis not enough that I love you both,
except I am sure you both love me again; and as one of her scrawls
fortifies my mind more against affliction than all Epictetus, with
Simplicius’s comments into the bargain, so your single letter gave
me more real pleasure than all the works of Plato.... I must return
my answer to your very kind question concerning my health. The Bath
waters have done a good deal towards the recovery of it, and the
great specific, _Cape Caballum_, will, I think, confirm it. Upon
this head I must tell you that my mare Betty grows blind, and may
one day, by breaking my neck, perfect my cure: if at Rixham fair any
pretty nagg that is between thirteen and fourteen hands presented
himself, and you would be pleased to purchase him for me, one of
your servants might ride him to Euston, and I might receive him
there. This, sir, is just as such a thing happens. If you hear, too,
of a Welch widow, with a good jointure, that has her _goings_ and is
not very skittish, pray, be pleased to cast your eye on her for me,
too. You see, sir, the great trust I repose in your skill and
honour, when I dare put two such commissions in your hand....”—_The
Hanmer Correspondence_, p. 120.

FROM MR. PRIOR.

“Paris, 1st-12th May, 1714.

“MY DEAR LORD AND FRIEND,

“Matthew never had so great occasion to write a word to Henry as
now: it is noised here that I am soon to return. The question that I
wish I could answer to the many that ask, and to our friend Colbert
de Torcy (to whom I made your compliments in the manner you
commanded) is, What is done for me: and to what I am recalled? It
may look like a bagatelle, what is to become of a philosopher like
me? but it is not such: what is to become of a person who had the
honour to be chosen, and sent hither as intrusted, in the midst of a
war, with what the Queen designed should make the peace; returning
with the Lord Bolingbroke, one of the greatest men in England, and
one of the finest heads in Europe (as they say here, if true or not,
_n’importe_); having been left by him in the greatest character
(that of Her Majesty’s Plenipotentiary), exercising that power
conjointly with the Duke of Shrewsbury, and solely after his
departure; having here received more distinguished honour than any
minister, except an Ambassador, ever did, and some which were never
given to any, but who had that character; having had all the success
that could be expected, having (God be thanked!) spared no pains, at
a time when at home the peace is voted safe and honourable—at a time
when the Earl of Oxford is Lord Treasurer and Lord Bolingbroke First
Secretary of State? This unfortunate person, I say, neglected,
forgot, unnamed to anything that may speak the Queen satisfied with
his services, or his friends concerned as to his fortune.

“Mr. de Torcy put me quite out of countenance, the other day, by a
pity that wounded me deeper than ever did the cruelty of the late
Lord Godolphin. He said he would write to Robin and Harry about me.
God forbid, my lord, that I should need any foreign intercession, or
owe the least to any Frenchman living, besides the decency of
behaviour and the returns of common civility: some say I am to go to
Baden, others that I am to be added to the Commissioners for
settling the commerce. In all cases I am ready, but in the meantime,
_dic aliquid de tribus capellis_. Neither of these two are, I
presume, honours or rewards, neither of them (let me say to my dear
Lord Bolingbroke, and let him not be angry with me), are what Drift
may aspire to, and what Mr. Whitworth, who was his fellow clerk, has
or may possess. I am far from desiring to lessen the great merit of
the gentleman I named, for I heartily esteem and love him; but in
this trade of ours, my lord, in which you are the general, as in
that of the soldiery, there is a certain right acquired by time and
long service. You would do anything for your Queen’s service, but
you would not be contented to descend, and be degraded to a charge,
no way proportioned to that of Secretary of State, any more than Mr.
Ross, though he would charge a party with a halbard in his hand,
would be content all his life after to be Serjeant. Was my Lord
Dartmouth, from Secretary, returned again to be Commissioner of
Trade, or from Secretary of War, would Frank Gwyn think himself
kindly used to be returned again to be Commissioner? In short, my
lord, you have put me above myself, and if I am to return to myself,
I shall return to something very discontented and uneasy. I am sure,
my lord, you will make the best use you can of this hint for my
good. If I am to have anything, it will certainly be for her
Majesty’s service, and the credit of my friends in the Ministry,
that it be done before I am recalled from home, lest the world may
think either that I have merited to be disgraced, or that ye dare
not stand by me. If nothing is to be done, _fiat voluntas Dei_. I
have writ to Lord Treasurer upon this subject, and having implored
your kind intercession, I promise you it is the last remonstrance of
this kind that I will ever make. Adieu, my lord; all honour, health,
and pleasure to you.

“Yours ever,

“MATT.”

“PS.—Lady Jersey is just gone from me. We drank your healths
together in usquebaugh after our tea: we are the greatest friends
alive. Once more adieu. There is no such thing as the _Book of
Travels_ you mentioned; if there be, let friend Tilson send us more
particular account of them, for neither I nor Jacob Tonson can find
them. Pray send Barton back to me, I hope with some comfortable
tidings.”—_Bolingbroke’s Letters._

113 “I asked whether Prior’s poems were to be printed entire; Johnson
said they were. I mentioned Lord Hales’s censure of Prior in his
preface to a collection of sacred poems, by various hands, published
by him at Edinburgh a great many years ago, where he mentions ‘these
impure tales, which will be the eternal opprobium of their ingenious
author’. JOHNSON: ‘Sir, Lord Hales has forgot. There is nothing in
Prior that will excite to lewdness. If Lord Hales thinks there is,
he must be more combustible than other people.’ I instanced the tale
of _Paulo Purganti and his Wife_. JOHNSON: ‘Sir, there is nothing
there but that his wife wanted to be kissed, when poor Paulo was out
of pocket. No, sir, Prior is a lady’s book. No lady is ashamed to
have it standing in her library.’ ”—BOSWELL’S _Life of Johnson_.

114 Gay was of an old Devonshire family, but his pecuniary prospects not
being great, was placed in his youth in the house of a silk-mercer
in London. He was born in 1688—Pope’s year, and in 1712 the Duchess
of Monmouth made him her secretary. Next year he published his
_Rural Sports_, which he dedicated to Pope, and so made an
acquaintance, which became a memorable friendship.

“Gay,” says Pope, “was quite a natural man,—wholly without art or
design, and spoke just what he thought and as he thought it. He
dangled for twenty years about a Court, and at last was offered to
be made usher to the young princess. Secretary Craggs made Gay a
present of stock in the South-Sea year; and he was once worth
20,000_l._, but lost it all again. He got about 500_l._ by the first
_Beggar’s Opera_, and 1,100_l._ or 1,200_l._ by the second. He was
negligent and a bad manager. Latterly, the Duke of Queensberry took
his money into his keeping, and let him only have what was necessary
out of it, and, as he lived with them, he could not have occasion
for much. He died worth upwards of 3,000_l._”—POPE (_Spence’s
Anecdotes_).

115 “Mr. Gay is, in all regards, as honest and sincere a man as ever I
knew.”—SWIFT, _to Lady Betty Germaine_, Jan. 1733.

116 Of manners gentle, of affections mild;
In wit a man; simplicity, a child;
With native humour temp’ring virtuous rage,
Form’d to delight at once and lash the age;
Above temptation in a low estate,
And uncorrupted e’en among the great:
A safe companion, and an easy friend,
Unblamed through life, lamented in the end.
These are thy honours; not that here thy bust
Is mix’d with heroes, or with kings thy dust;
But that the worthy and the good shall say,
Striking their pensive bosoms, “_Here_ lies Gay.”

POPE’S _Epitaph on Gay_.

A hare who, in a civil way,
Complied with everything, like Gay.

_Fables_, “The Hare and Many Friends.”

117 “I can give you no account of Gay,” says Pope, curiously, “since he
was raffled for, and won back by his Duchess.”—_Works_, Roscoe’s
ed., vol. ix, p. 392.

Here is the letter Pope wrote to him when the death of Queen Anne
brought back Lord Clarendon from Hanover, and lost him the
secretaryship of that nobleman, of which he had had but a short
tenure.

Gay’s Court prospects were never happy from this time.—His
dedication of the _Shepherd’s Week_ to Bolingbroke, Swift used to
call the “original sin”, which had hurt him with the house of
Hanover.

“Sept. 23, 1714.

“DEAR MR. GAY,

“Welcome to your native soil! welcome to your friends! thrice
welcome to me! whether returned in glory, blest with Court interest,
the love and familiarity of the great, and filled with agreeable
hopes; or melancholy with dejection, contemplative of the changes of
fortune, and doubtful for the future; whether returned a triumphant
Whig or a depending Tory, equally all hail! equally beloved and
welcome to me! If happy, I am to partake of your elevation; if
unhappy, you have still a warm corner in my heart, and a retreat at
Benfield in the worst of times at your service. If you are a Tory,
or thought so by any man, I know it can proceed from nothing but
your gratitude to a few people who endeavoured to serve you, and
whose politics were never your concern. If you are a Whig, as I
rather hope, and as I think your principles and mine (as brother
poets) had ever a bias to the side of liberty, I know you will be an
honest man and an inoffensive one. Upon the whole, I know you are
incapable of being so much of either party as to be good for
nothing. Therefore, once more, whatever you are or in whatever state
you are, all hail!

“One or two of your own friends complained they had nothing from you
since the Queen’s death; I told them no man living loved Mr. Gay
better than I, yet I had not once written to him in all his voyage.
This I thought a convincing proof, but truly one may be a friend to
another without telling him so every month. But they had reasons,
too, themselves to allege in your excuse, as men who really value
one another will never want such as make their friends and
themselves easy. The late universal concern in public affairs threw
us all into a hurry of spirits: even I, who am more a philosopher
than to expect anything from any reign, was borne away with the
current, and full of the expectation of the successor. During your
journeys, I knew not whither to aim a letter after you; that was a
sort of shooting flying: add to this the demand Homer had upon me,
to write fifty verses a day, besides learned notes, all of which are
at a conclusion for this year. Rejoice with me, O my friend! that my
labour is over; come and make merry with me in much feasting. We
will feed among the lilies (by the lilies I mean the ladies). Are
not the Rosalindas of Britain as charming as the Blousalindas of the
Hague? or have the two great Pastoral poets of our own nation
renounced love at the same time? for Philips, unnatural Philips,
hath deserted it, yea, and in a rustic manner kicked his Rosalind.
Dr. Parnell and I have been inseparable ever since you went. We are
now at the Bath, where (if you are not, as I heartily hope, better
engaged) your company would be the greatest pleasure to us in the
world. Talk not of expenses: Homer shall support his children. I beg
a line from you, directed to the Post-house in Bath. Poor Parnell is
in an ill state of health.

“Pardon me if I add a word of advice in the poetical way. Write
something on the King, or Prince, or Princess. On whatsoever foot
you may be with the court, this can do no harm. I shall never know
where to end, and am confounded in the many things I have to say to
you, though they all amount but to this, that I am, entirely, as
ever,

“Your,” &c.

Gay took the advice “in the poetical way”, and published _An Epistle
to a Lady, occasioned by the arrival of her Royal Highness the
Princess of Wales_. But, though this brought him access to Court,
and the attendance of the Prince and Princess at his farce of the
_What d’ye, call it?_ it did not bring him a place. On the accession
of George II, he was offered the situation of Gentleman Usher to the
Princess Louisa (her Highness being then two years old); but “by
this offer”, says Johnson, “he thought himself insulted.”

118 Gay was a great eater.—As the French philosopher used to prove his
existence by _cogito, ergo sum_, the greatest proof of Gay’s
existence is, _edit, ergo est_—CONGREVE, _in a Letter to Pope_
(_Spence’s Anecdotes_).

119 Swift indorsed the letter—“On my dear friend Mr. Gay’s death;
received Dec. 15, but not read till the 20th, by an impulse
foreboding some misfortune.”

“It was by Swift’s interest that Gay was made known to Lord
Bolingbroke, and obtained his patronage.”—SCOTT’S _Swift_, vol. i,
p. 156.

Pope wrote on the occasion of Gay’s death, to Swift, thus:—

“[Dec. 5, 1732.]

“One of the dearest and longest ties I have ever had is broken all
on a sudden by the unfortunate death of poor Mr. Gay. An
inflammatory fever carried him out of this life in three days.... He
asked of you a few hours before when in acute torment by the
inflammation in his bowels and breast.... His sisters, we suppose,
will be his heirs, who are two widows.... Good God! how often are we
to die before we go quite off this stage? In every friend we lose a
part of ourselves, and the best part. God keep those we have left!
few are worth praying for, and one’s self the least of all.”

120 “Gay, like Goldsmith, had a musical talent. ‘He could play on the
flute,’ says Malone, ‘and was, therefore, enabled to adapt so
happily some of the airs in the _Beggar’s Opera_.’ ”—_Notes to_
SPENCE.

121 ’Twas when the seas were roaring
With hollow blasts of wind,
A damsel lay deploring
All on a rock reclined.
Wide o’er the foaming billows
She cast a wistful look;
Her head was crown’d with willows
That trembled o’er the brook.

Twelve months are gone and over,
And nine long tedious days;
Why didst thou, venturous lover—
Why didst thou trust the seas?
Cease, cease, thou cruel Ocean,
And let my lover rest;
Ah! what’s thy troubled motion
To that within my breast?

The merchant robb’d of pleasure,
Sees tempests in despair;
But what’s the loss of treasure
To losing of my dear?
Should you some coast be laid on,
Where gold and diamonds grow,
You’d find a richer maiden,
But none that loves you so.

How can they say that Nature
Has nothing made in vain;
Why, then, beneath the water
Should hideous rocks remain?
No eyes the rocks discover
That lurk beneath the deep,
To wreck the wandering lover,
And leave the maid to weep?

All melancholy lying,
Thus wail’d she for her dear;
Repay’d each blast with sighing,
Each billow with a tear;
When o’er the white wave stooping,
His floating corpse she spy’d;
Then, like a lily drooping,
She bow’d her head, and died.

_A Ballad_, from the “_What d’ye call it?_”

“What can be prettier than Gay’s ballad, or, rather, Swift’s,
Arbuthnot’s, Pope’s, and Gay’s, in the _What d’ye call it?_ ‘’Twas
when the seas were roaring’? I have been well informed, that they
all contributed.”—Cowper to Unwin, 1783.

122 “Dr. Swift had been observing once to Mr. Gay, what an odd pretty
sort of thing a Newgate Pastoral might make. Gay was inclined to try
at such a thing for some time, but afterwards thought it would be
better to write a comedy on the same plan. This was what gave rise
to the _Beggar’s Opera_. He began on it, and when he first mentioned
it to Swift, the Doctor did not much like the project. As he carried
it on, he showed what he wrote to both of us; and we now and then
gave a correction, or a word or two of advice; but it was wholly of
his own writing. When it was done, neither of us thought it would
succeed. We showed it to Congreve, who, after reading it over, said,
‘It would either take greatly, or be damned confoundedly.’ We were
all at the first night of it, in great uncertainty of the event,
till we were very much encouraged by overhearing the Duke of Argyle,
who sat in the next box to us, say, ‘It will do—it must do!—I see it
in the eyes of them!’ This was a good while before the first Act was
over, and so gave us ease soon; for the Duke [besides his own good
taste] has a more particular research than any one now living in
discovering the taste of the public. He was quite right in this as
usual; the good nature of the audience appeared stronger and
stronger every act, and ended in a clamour of applause.”—POPE
(_Spence’s Anecdotes_).

123 “Waller, Spenser, and Dryden were Mr. Pope’s great favourites, in
the order they are named, in his first reading, till he was about
twelve years old.”—POPE (_Spence’s Anecdotes_).

“Mr. Pope’s father (who was an honest merchant, and dealt in
Hollands, wholesale) was no poet, but he used to set him to make
English verses when very young. He was pretty difficult in being
pleased; and used often to send him back to new turn them. ‘These
are not good rhimes;’ for that was my husband’s word for
verses.”—POPE’S MOTHER (_Spence_).

“I wrote things, I’m ashamed to say how soon. Part of an Epic Poem
when about twelve. The scene of it lay at Rhodes, and some of the
neighbouring islands; and the poem opened under water with a
description of the Court of Neptune.”—POPE (ibid.).

“His perpetual application (after he set to study of himself)
reduced him in four years’ time to so bad a state of health, that,
after trying physicians for a good while in vain, he resolved to
give way to his distemper; and sat down calmly in a full expectation
of death in a short time. Under this thought, he wrote letters to
take a last farewell of some of his more particular friends, and,
among the rest, one to the Abbé Southcote. The Abbé was extremely
concerned, both for his very ill state of health and the resolution
he said he had taken. He thought there might yet be hope, and went
immediately to Dr. Radcliffe, with whom he was well acquainted, told
him Mr. Pope’s case, got full directions from him, and carried them
down to Pope in Windsor Forest. The chief thing the Doctor ordered
him was to apply less, and to ride every day. The following his
advice soon restored him to his health.”—POPE (ibid.).

124 MR. POPE TO THE REV. MR. BROOME, PULHAM, NORFOLK.

“Aug. 29, 1730.

“DEAR SIR,—

“I intended to write to you on this melancholy subject, the death of
Mr. Fenton, before yours came, but stayed to have informed myself
and you of the circumstances of it. All I hear is, that he felt a
gradual decay, though so early in life, and was declining for five
or six months. It was not, as I apprehended, the gout in his
stomach, but, I believe, rather a complication first of gross
humours, as he was naturally corpulent, not discharging themselves,
as he used no sort of exercise. No man better bore the approaches of
his dissolution (as I am told), or with less ostentation yielded up
his being. The great modesty which you know was natural to him, and
the great contempt he had for all sorts of vanity and parade, never
appeared more than in his last moments: he had a conscious
satisfaction (no doubt) in acting right, in feeling himself honest,
true, and unpretending to more than his own. So he died as he lived,
with that secret, yet sufficient contentment.

“As to any papers left behind him, I dare say they can be but few;
for this reason, he never wrote out of vanity, or thought much of
the applause of men. I know an instance when he did his utmost to
conceal his own merit that way; and if we join to this his natural
love of ease, I fancy we must expect little of this sort: at least,
I have heard of none, except some few further remarks on Waller
(which his cautious integrity made him leave an order to be given to
Mr. Tonson), and perhaps, though it is many years since I saw it, a
translation of the first book of _Oppian_. He had begun a tragedy of
_Dion_, but made small progress in it.

“As to his other affairs, he died poor but honest, leaving no debts
or legacies, except of a few pounds to Mr. Trumbull and my lady, in
token of respect, gratefulness, and mutual esteem.

“I shall, with pleasure, take upon me to draw this amiable, quiet,
deserving, unpretending, Christian, unphilosophical character in his
epitaph. There truth may be spoken in a few words; as for flourish,
and oratory, and poetry, I leave them to younger and more lively
writers, such as love writing for writing sake, and would rather
show their own fine parts than report the valuable ones of any other
man. So the elegy I renounce.

“I condole with you from my heart on the loss of so worthy a man,
and a friend to us both....

“Adieu; let us love his memory, and profit by his example. Am very
sincerely, dear sir,

“Your affectionate and real servant.”

TO THE EARL OF BURLINGTON.

“August, 1714.

“MY LORD,

“If your mare could speak she would give you an account of what
extraordinary company she had on the road, which, since she cannot
do, I will.”

“It was the enterprising Mr. Lintot, the redoubtable rival of Mr.
Tonson, who, mounted on a stonehorse, overtook me in Windsor Forest.
He said he heard I designed for Oxford, the seat of the Muses, and
would, as my bookseller, by all means accompany me thither.

“I asked him where he got his horse? He answered he got it of his
publisher; ‘for that rogue, my printer,’ said he, ‘disappointed me.
I hoped to put him in good humour by a treat at the tavern of a
brown fricassée of rabbits, which cost ten shillings, with two
quarts of wine, besides my conversation. I thought myself cocksure
of his horse, which he readily promised me, but said that Mr. Tonson
had just such another design of going to Cambridge, expecting there
the copy of a new kind of Horace from Dr. ——; and if Mr. Tonson
went, he was pre-engaged to attend him, being to have the printing
of the said copy. So, in short, I borrowed this stonehorse of my
publisher, which he had of Mr. Oldmixon for a debt. He lent me, too,
the pretty boy you see after me. He was a smutty dog yesterday, and
cost me more than two hours to wash the ink off his face; but the
devil is a fair-conditioned devil, and very forward in his
catechism. If you have any more bags he shall carry them.’

“I thought Mr. Lintot’s civility not to be neglected, so gave the
boy a small bag containing three shirts and an Elzevir Virgil, and,
mounting in an instant, proceeded on the road, with my man before,
my courteous stationer beside, and the aforesaid devil behind.

“Mr. Lintot began in this manner: ‘Now, damn them! What if they
should put it into the newspaper how you and I went together to
Oxford? What would I care? If I should go down into Sussex they
would say I was gone to the Speaker; but what of that? If my son
were but big enough to go on with the business, by G-d, I would keep
as good company as old Jacob.’

“Hereupon, I inquired of his son. ‘The lad,’ says he, ‘has fine
parts, but is somewhat sickly, much as you are. I spare for nothing
in his education at Westminster. Pray, don’t you think Westminster
to be the best school in England? Most of the late Ministry came out
of it; so did many of this Ministry. I hope the boy will make his
fortune.’

“ ‘Don’t you design to let him pass a year at Oxford?’ ‘To what
purpose?’ said he. ‘The Universities do but make pedants, and I
intend to breed him a man of business.’

“As Mr. Lintot was talking I observed he sat uneasy on his saddle,
for which I expressed some solicitude. ‘Nothing,’ says he. ‘I can
bear it well enough; but, since we have the day before us, methinks
it would be very pleasant for you to rest awhile under the woods.’
When we were alighted, ‘See, here, what a mighty pretty Horace I
have in my pocket! What, if you amused yourself in turning an ode
till we mount again? Lord! if you pleased. What a clever miscellany
might you make at leisure hours!’ ‘Perhaps I may,’ said I, ‘if we
ride on; the motion is an aid to my fancy; a round trot very much
awakens my spirits; then jog on apace, and I’ll think as hard as I
can.’

“Silence ensued for a full hour; after which Mr. Lintot lugged the
reins, stopped short, and broke out, ‘Well, sir, how far have you
gone?’ I answered, seven miles. ‘Z—ds, sir,’ said Lintot, ‘I thought
you had done seven stanzas. Oldisworth, in a ramble round Wimbledon
Hill, would translate a whole ode in half this time. I’ll say that
for Oldisworth [though I lost by his Timothy’s] he translates an ode
of Horace the quickest of any man in England. I remember Dr. King
would write verses in a tavern, three hours after he could not
speak: and there is Sir Richard, in that rumbling old chariot of
his, between Fleet Ditch and St. Giles’s pound shall make you half a
Job.’

“ ‘Pray, Mr. Lintot,’ said I, ‘now you talk of translators, what is
your method of managing them?’ ‘Sir,’ replied he, ‘these are the
saddest pack of rogues in the world: in a hungry fit, they’ll swear
they understand all the languages in the universe. I have known one
of them take down a Greek book upon my counter, and cry, “Ah, this
is Hebrew,” and must read it from the latter end. By G-d, I can
never be sure in these fellows, for I neither understand Greek,
Latin, French, nor Italian myself. But this is my way; I agree with
them for ten shillings per sheet, with a proviso that I will have
their doings corrected with whom I please; so by one or the other
they are led at last to the true sense of an author; my judgement
giving the negative to all my translators.’ ‘Then how are you sure
these correctors may not impose upon you?’ ‘Why, I get any civil
gentleman (especially any Scotchman) that comes into my shop, to
read the original to me in English; by this I know whether my first
translator be deficient, and whether my corrector merits his money
or not.

“ ‘I’ll tell you what happened to me last month. I bargained with
S—— for a new version of _Lucretius_, to publish against Tonson’s,
agreeing to pay the author so many shillings at his producing so
many lines. He made a great progress in a very short time, and I
gave it to the corrector to compare with the Latin; but he went
directly to Creech’s translation, and found it the same, word for
word, all but the first page. Now, what d’ye think I did? I arrested
the translator for a cheat; nay, and I stopped the corrector’s pay,
too, upon the proof that he had made use of Creech instead of the
original.’

“ ‘Pray tell me next how you deal with the critics?’ ‘Sir,’ said he,
‘nothing more easy. I can silence the most formidable of them; the
rich ones for a sheet a-piece of the blotted manuscript, which cost
me nothing; they’ll go about with it to their acquaintance, and
pretend they had it from the author, who submitted it to their
correction: this has given some of them such an air, that in time
they come to be consulted with and dedicated to as the tip-top
critics of the town.—As for the poor critics, I’ll give you one
instance of my management, by which you may guess the rest: a lean
man, that looked like a very good scholar, came to me, t’other day;
he turned over your Homer, shook his head, shrugged up his
shoulders, and pish’d at every line of it. “One would wonder,” says
he, “at the strange presumption of some men; Homer is no such easy
task as every stripling, every versifier—” He was going on, when my
wife called to dinner; “Sir,” said I, “will you please to eat a
piece of beef with me?” “Mr. Lintot,” said he, “I am very sorry you
should be at the expense of this great book, I am really concerned
on your account.” “Sir, I am much obliged to you: if you can dine
upon a piece of beef together with a slice of pudding—?” “Mr.
Lintot, I do not say but Mr. Pope, if he would condescend to advise
with men of learning—” “Sir, the pudding is upon the table, if you
please to go in.” My critic complies; he comes to a taste of your
poetry, and tells me in the same breath, that the book is
commendable, and the pudding excellent.’

“ ‘Now, sir,’ continued Mr. Lintot, ‘in return for the frankness I
have shown, pray tell me, is it the opinion of your friends at Court
that my Lord Lansdowne will be brought to the bar or not?’ I told
him I heard he would not, and I hoped it, my lord being one I had
particular obligations to.—‘That may be,’ replied Mr. Lintot; ‘but
by G— if he is not, I shall lose the printing of a very good trial.’

“These, my lord, are a few traits with which you discern the genius
of Mr. Lintot, which I have chosen for the subject of a letter. I
dropped him as soon as I got to Oxford, and paid a visit to my Lord
Carleton, at Middleton....

“I am,” &c.

DR. SWIFT TO MR. POPE.

“Sept. 29, 1725.

“I am now returning to the noble scene of Dublin—into the _grand
monde_—for fear of burying my parts; to signalize myself among
curates and vicars, and correct all corruptions crept in relating to
the weight of bread-and-butter through those dominions where I
govern. I have employed my time (besides ditching) in finishing,
correcting, amending, and transcribing my _Travels_ [_Gulliver’s_],
in four parts complete, newly augmented, and intended for the press
when the world shall deserve them, or rather, when a printer shall
be found brave enough to venture his ears. I like the scheme of our
meeting after distresses and dissensions; but the chief end I
propose to myself in all my labours is to vex the world rather than
divert it; and if I could compass that design without hurting my own
person and fortune, I would be the most indefatigable writer you
have ever seen, without reading. I am exceedingly pleased that you
have done with translations; Lord Treasurer Oxford often lamented
that a rascally world should lay you under a necessity of
misemploying your genius for so long a time; but since you will now
be so much better employed, when you think of the world, give it one
lash the more at my request. I have ever hated all societies,
professions, and communities; and all my love is towards
individuals—for instance, I hate the tribe of lawyers, but I love
Councillor Such-a-one and Judge Such-a-one: it is so with physicians
(I will not speak of my own trade), soldiers, English, Scotch,
French, and the rest. But principally I hate and detest that animal
called man—although I heartily love John, Peter, Thomas, and so on.

“... I have got materials towards a treatise proving the falsity of
that definition _animal rationale_, and to show it should be only
_rationis capax_.... The matter is so clear that it will admit of no
dispute—nay, I will hold a hundred pounds that you and I agree in
the point....

“Dr. Lewis sent me an account of Dr. Arbuthnot’s illness, which is a
very sensible affliction to me, who, by living so long out of the
world, have lost that hardness of heart contracted by years and
general conversation. I am daily losing friends, and neither seeking
nor getting others. Oh, if the world had but a dozen of Arbuthnots
in it, I would burn my _Travels_!”

MR. POPE TO DR. SWIFT.

“October 15, 1725.

“I am wonderfully pleased with the suddenness of your kind answer.
It makes me hope you are coming towards us, and that you incline
more and more to your old friends.... Here is one [Lord Bolingbroke]
who was once a powerful planet, but has now (after long experience
of all that comes of shining) learned to be content with returning
to his first point without the thought or ambition of shining at
all. Here is another [Edward, Earl of Oxford], who thinks one of the
greatest glories of his father was to have distinguished and loved
you, and who loves you hereditarily. Here is Arbuthnot, recovered
from the jaws of death, and more pleased with the hope of seeing you
again than of reviewing a world, every part of which he has long
despised but what is made up of a few men like yourself....

“Our friend Gay is used as the friends of Tories are by Whigs—and
generally by Tories too. Because he had humour, he was supposed to
have dealt with Dr. Swift, in like manner as when any one had
learning formerly, he was thought to have dealt with the devil....