I YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY This book was digitized by Microsoft Corporation in cooperation with Yale University Library, 2008. You may not reproduce this digitized copy of the book for any purpose other than for scholarship, research, educational, or, in limited quantity, personal use. You may not distribute or provide access to this digitized copy (or modified or partial versions of it) for commercial purposes. LETTERS. Entry on a blank page in the first of five Port-folios, containing the Originals of the following Letters. " These Letters give so true a picture of the Writer's " character, and are, besides, so worthy of him in all "wespects (I mean, if the Reader can forgive the play- 11 fulness of Ms 'wit in some instances, and the partiality " of his friendship in many more J, that, in honour of his " Memory, I would have them published after my death, *' and the profits arising from the sale of them, applied to " the benefit of the Worcester Infirmary. R, WORCESTER. l( January 18th, 1793," NICHOLS aud SON, Print-en. ReiJ Lion Passage, Fleet Street. WIELIAM WA1BU1TON ?*7ff> T^£2> ¦ma^^us/avinr, Strand., LETTERS FROM A LATE EMINENT PRELATE TO ONE OF HIS FRIENDS. THE SECOND EDITION. " SI IMAGINES NOBIS AHICORUM ABSENTIUM JUCUND4; SUNT, QVM " MEMORIAM BENOVANT, ET DF.SIDERIUM ABSENTIA FALSO ATQUB " INANI SOLATIO LEVANT ;' QUANTO JUCUNDIORES SUNT LITERS, " QU.E VERA AMICI ABSENTIS VESTIGIA, VEB.AS NOTAS AFFERUNX?" Sen. Ep. XL. " LES LETTItES DES HOMMES CELEBRES SONT, ORDINAIREMENT, LA " PABTIE IA PLUS CURIEUSE DE LEUR ECRIT9." PREF. A l'hIST. DE JovlEN, p. 50. LONDON: PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND. 180Q. ICHAID HMD Y // ^rrejf'&rrz). <^l/eaale'.#u>7n< ^ ^2- ^^e/-^^^ J, tfSaao /ff^/r, AJ&W mv^,s.lM, tj, ajui IcDa-vics. LETTERS. LETTER I. Mr. WARBURTON to Mr. KURD. Bedford-Row, June 1st, 1749. REV. SIRj I RECEIVED the favour of your edition of Horace's Art of Poetry : for which I beg leave to make my best acknowledgments. You have given very little advantage to the critics, but where you speak of me : and yet my self-love will not suffer me to wish it unsaid, when I consider how much real honour is done to every one whom such an author commends. I tell you, with all sincerity, I think the Notes one of the most masterly pieces of criticism that ever was written. I am sure (and I ought to be Ashamed to say it) that I should have envied you for it, had I not found you so generous to the Commentator of Mr. Pope. As it is, I take a pride B in it as my own ; a greater, than I can take in any of my own. I wish it was in my power to make a suitable acknowledgment for my obligations. The best thing I have to offer you is a very unprofitable friendship. Such as it is, you have a right to it. And, if you will make me still more your debtor, you must give me yours. You will always find in mine all the frankness and warmth wherewith I now beg leave to subscribe myself, Rev. Sir, Your very obliged and most faithful humble servant,W. WARBURTON. LETTER II. DEAR SIR, 1 HAVE your obliging letter of- the 4th, which but the more confirms me in my good fortune in the acquisition of so valuable a friend. After hav ing seen so much of a person's mind as one does in a well-wrote book, one steps at once into his ac quaintance. So that you must not wonder at the familiarity of my demands.-^— Pray do you reside generally in College, or where ? Have you ever any Calls to Town ? I hope you have. I am here al- most always in Term-time ; and you may be as sured always much your servant. When I am not here, I am at Prior-Park, near -Bath ; where indeed a letter directed to me, under cover to Ralph Allen, Esq. will always find me out wherever I am. For don't imagine I shall willingly suffer you to drop our correspondence. Tshall have too much use for it. And, if I had you now near me, I have a great deal of your advice to ask concerning some projects I have in hand, which you shall know more of. Particularly a tract on Julian's famous attempt: that I shall contrive to let you see, to criticise, be fore I publish it. But what at present is most in my thoughts, is to press you to oblige us with Ho race's Epistle to Augustus, just in the same manner and form you have given us the Art of Poetry. It will be a fine field for your talents, and complete what is much wanted, a sensible comment on all Horace's Critical Works. For I tell you again, what you have already done is far above the taste and comprehension of these times. For whenever the public taste is right, it is set so by half a dozen fashionable people of good understanding, who lead the rest to it. Sometimes they readily follow, sometimes not. But what is the genuine public taste, and properly .their own, is the most wretched. imaginable. I have spoken of your Comment, to the best judges, as it deserves ; and I have already had the thanks of some of them for my recommen dation. b 2 I shall stay in town above a week longer, and then return into the West a little by the North. But wherever I am, be assured you have, Dear Sir, A very faithful and obliged friend, and humble servant, W. WARBURTON. Bedford-Row, June 6th, 1749. LETTER III. DEAR SIR, I HAVE your obliging letter of the 9th . I could not leave the town without making my acknowledgments for it. Be assured every good occasion, that brings you to town, will give me a particular pleasure. Give me leave to tell you, you do not reason so well by a great deal, on the Epistle to Augustus, as on the Epistle to the Pisos. Mr. Pope, you know, uses the Roman poet for little more than his canvas. And, if the old design or colouring chance to suit his purpose, it is well : if not, he employs his own, without ceremony or scruple. Hence it is, that he is so frequently serious where Horace is in jest, and gay, where the other is disgusted. Had it been his purpose to paraphrase an ancient satyrist, he had hardly made choice of Horace ; with whom, as a poet, he held little in common, besides his compre hensive knowledge of life and manners, and a cer tain curious felicity of expression, which consists in using the simplest language with dignity, and the most adorned, with ease. But his harmony and strength of numbers, his force and splendour of colouring, his gravity and sublime of sentiment, are of another school. If you ask then why he took any body to imitate, I will tell you, these imi tations being of the nature of parodies they add a borrowed grace and vigour to his original wit. On all these accounts his poem should rather excite you than otherwise. Besides I am sure there is opportunity for many important observations in the poetical way. But as soon as I can get my notes on this Imitation in a condition to be read, you shall see them, to convince you how much a good comment on this Epistle is wanted. My discourse on Julian, that is, as much as I have done of it, is gone to the press, which, when I can get enough worth sending, you shall have. It is in three parts. In the first I endeavour to establish the fact : in the second I answer to objec tions, of various kinds : and in the third I discuss this question, " What -evidence is required, and " what is its peculiar nature, that will justify a " reasonable man in giving credit to a miraculous ie fact?" A question much easier asked, than an swered. Believe me, dear Sir, to be in a particular manner, Your faithful friend, and obedient servant, W. WARBURTON. Bedford-Row, June 13th, 1749. P.S. I am pleased with one thing you tell me, which is, that your residence is generally in College. I think it should be so, as it will keep you more advantageously in the world's eye, till merit and good luck bring you out with distinction. — You ask about Lord Bo- lingbroke's advertisement. The pamphlet called " A Letter to the Editor, &c," will let you into the fact. LETTER IV. Prior-Park, August 6th, 1749. DEAR SIR, 1 HAVE the pleasure of yours of the 24th past. You must not expect too much from my Julian. ' It is part of the trade of Pamphleteers to set off their ware by pompous titles. I think you judge right of the Inquirer and his inquiries. As you do of another fashionable writer, who is in Politics just what this is in Divinity. And I am persuaded this character of them would satisfy them both ; so good an opinion they have mutually of one another. But I esteem Dr. Middleton to be an honest man, and the other the greatest in the kingdom. This, and my acquaintance with him, and my dislike of his adversaries' scheme, make me begin the discourse in a manner he ought riot to dislike, and conclude it in a manner, 1 am sure, they will not approve. But a deluge of answerers are coming out against him. I have seen, by the Bp. of London's favour, the new edition of his book on the Prophecies. Whiston, I am told, likes the " Appendix on the Fall" so little that he is going to write upon it him self, but on so beastly a system that he does not think fit to express himself in English ; and the Italian, which is properest for this occasion, he is a stranger to. You are so obliging on the subject of the Epistle to Augustus that the least I could do was to send you the copy I have prepared for the press, to con vince you there is the same necessity for your pen, as if I had never wrote a word on the Imitation. I have indeed wrote comments as well as notes on Mr. Pope's Moral Epistles : but these on the Imi tations, as you wilt see by this specimen, are merely occasional remarks. But if this will not in duce you to execute my scheme ; I here give you, 8 with a good deal of fair paper, a fair opportunity of enriching my edition with your remarks, and in good earnest I hope you will dd me this honour. But what should hinder you from doing both ? Not the want of that true esteem wjth which I profess jnyself to be, &c. You need not send the MS. back till I acquaint you with my want of it, or that you have an opportunity of sending to Mr. Knapton, bookseller, in Ludgate-Street, LETTER V. DEAR SIR, I HAVE the pleasure of your two last kind letters. Though I know I am to place your good opinion of the trifle I sent to you to your favourable partiality, yet that does not much abate the satis faction I receive in your approbation. I think myself much obliged to you for your in clination to comply with my request in writing on the Epistle to Augustus. I think the scheme of making it an appendix to the Ars poet, a good one, and I have nothing further to say on the subject than \o insist on the performance of your promise, 9 ; Your generous concern for the character of a truly great and much injured man, Dr, Bentley, charms me. Part of the false judgment passed u|pon him, which I complain of, is, that he was ejsteemed a Dance amongst wits, which he was as %r from being as any man. The wits I meant, /ere Dr. Garth, Dr. Swift, Mr, Pope, who were all the interests of a cabal against him ; and not the )xford men, whom I think, with you, he beat at leir own weapons. On this subject I must tell you a story. — The only thing the Oxford people hit off was Bentley's plagiarism, from Vizzanius. And when they had done, they could not support it against Bentley's defence : who solemnly denies it, avers it was a calumny, and gives this proof of his innocence, that the Greek passage quoted by him from Jamblicus, on which both he and Vizzanius had founded their discoveries, is differently transla ted by them. " The thing as I said it," says the Doctor, " is thus, the Pythagoreans enjoined all " the Greeks that entered themselves into the so- " ciety, to use every man his mother tongue \jpuv$ " Xp^xl T>5 vs-oil polei] , Ocellus therefore being a Do- " rian of Lucania must have writ in the Doric. " This I took to be Jamblicus his meaning. But " Vizzanius has represented it thus, That they en- " joined all that came to them to use the mother " tongue of Crotona, which was the Doric. Whe- " ther Vizzanius or I have hit upon the true mean- " ing, perhaps all competent readers ivill not be of 10 " a mind." p. 384 of Dis. Def. To this the Ox ford men had nothing to reply, though in the future editions they replied to many parts of the Defence. And yet I will venture to say this very Defence was his conviction. Observe the diffidence of the concluding words ; so contrary to the Doctor's manner, that one would suspect he was convinced Vizzanius was right! The truth of the matter is this ; the Doctor between^ his writing the Dissertation on Phalaris and thisl Def. had looked into Jamblicus ; and found ; (as jrou will find if you look into him) that it ad mits of no other meaning. Yet I will venture to say the words of Jamblicus taken separately, just as they are quoted by Vizzanius without the context, would have been translated by every man, who un derstood the Greek idiom, just as Dr. Bentley has translated them. " From whence I conclude that when Dr. Bentley wrote the Dissertation on Phala ris, he had seen the words of Jamblicus no where but in Vizzanius, consequently the charge upon him was just. I remember when my old friend Bishop Hare (who idolized Bentley, notwithstanding his Critique on Phaedrus) insinuated to me he thought I was too hard, on Bentley in the 2d B. 3d Sect, of D. L. I told him the story I here tell you, and he confessed I had indeed spared him. — This leads me to say, that the persons I hinted at in the note, who had extravagantly flattered Dr. Bentley, were Bp. Hare 11 in his Letter of Thanhs, &c. and Dr. S. Clarke in the preface to his Caesar. They were both afraid of him- Before I leave this subject, I will just tell you what Mr. Pope told me, who had been let into the secret, concerning the Oxford performance. — That Boyle wrote only the narrative of what passed between him and the Bookseller, which too was corrected for him ; that Freind, the Master of Westminster, and Atterbury wrote the body of the criticisms ; and that Dr. King of the Commons wrote the droll argument to prove Dr. Bentley was not the author of the Dissertation on Phalaris, and the' Index. And a powerful cabal gave it a sur prising run.—- Your character of that species of wit, in, which Bentley excelled, is just. With regard to the story of Abbot, to tell you the truth, nothing but my indignation for the treatment of such a man as Grotius made me transcribe from the writings of a man now alto gether forgotten. I told this story to Lord Chan cellor; and when Icame to the complaint of the' cruel treatment of the Bishop of Ely, he laughed very heartily. But you mention a more serious matter; in which your indignation for the mean treatment of your friend, from one who has long pretended a friendship for me, deserves my heartiest thanks. I could say a great deal to you on this subject if you was here with me. But dp you know that mean ness is inseparable 'from false greatness ? 12 You have touched the thing with the greatest truth and nicety where you say you think him not so happy in clearing up certain points connected with the fall. I think I shall shew it in the last volume of the Divine Legation, which is advancing, though slowly, amidst a thousand avocations, of indolence, amusement, business, &c. I hope very shortly to send you the six first sheets of my Pamphlet. What I expect of your friendship is, to be very severe on every part before its publication, and very indulgent to it after. Do not believe I shall let your promise slip, through concerning the Appendix. For I must interest myself in what I think is for your advan tage as well as the public, otherwise I should have offered you a poor thing indeed when I offered you my friendship. Prior- Park, August IS th, 1749. 13 LETTER VI. Prior-Park, September 28th, 1749. DEAR SIR, I HAVE the pleasure of yours of the 12th. What you divine of the new edition of the Para dise-lost, just now upon the point of appearing, may perhaps prove too true. I agree with you, the editor prejudiced nobody in his favour by his specimen. He was all-advised to give such a one. I have indeed, as you say, raised a spirit without designing it. And while I thought I was only conjecturing, it seems I was conjuring. So that I had no sooner evoked the name of Shake- spear from the rotten monument of his former editions, than a crew of strange devils, and more grotesque than any of those he laughs at in the old farces, came chattering, mewing, and grinning round about me. The Oxford man you mention, who writ some thing about Shakespear, and would write about Jpnson, is a pert dunce, the most troublesome sort of vermin in all Parnassus. I have got but six sheets of Julian yet from under the press. These I have ordered to be sent to you. The thing grows upon me too much, and I suspect these six will make but a fourth 14 .part of the whole. M. J. Basnage is a great name, and deservedly so. I was obliged to examine his objections ; they are pushed home with little fear and less wit, in the sixth Book of hjs History of the Jews. And this takes up a good deal of room. I am strongly tempted too to have a stroke at Hume in parting. He is the author of a little book called " Philosophical Essays," in one part of which he argues against the being of a God, and in another (very needlessly you will say) against' the possibility of miracles. He has crowned the liberty of the press. And yet he has a considerable post under the Government. I havega great mind to do justice on his argu ments against miracles, which I think might be done in few words. But does he deserve notice? Is he known amongst you ? Pray answer me these questions. For if his own weight keeps him down, I should be sorry to contribute to his advancement to any place but the pillory. Your true taste and love of the fine arts made me think the two inclosed sheets would give you some amusement. I am sure Mr. Pope's Epistle on Taste must be a favourite of yours. 15 LETTER VII. Bedford-Row, October 28th, 1749. DEAR SIR, I DEFERRED making my acknowledg ments for the favour of your last obliging letter till I came to town. I am now got hither to spend the month of November. The dreadful month of November ! when the little wretches hang and drown themselves, and the great ones sell themselves to the C and the Devil. I should be glad if any occasion would bring you hither, that I might have the pleasure of waiting on you, — I don't mean to the C and the Devil, but in Bedford-Row. Not that I would fright you from that earthly Pandemonium, a C , because I never go thither. On the con trary I wish I could get you into the circle. For (with regard to you) I should be something of the humour of honest Cornelius Agrippa, who when he left off conjuring, and wrote of the vanity of the art, could not forbear to give receipts, and teach young novices the way to raise the Devil. One method serves for both, and his political representatives are rendered tractable by the very same method, namely fumigations. But these 16 high mysteries you are unworthy to partake of. You are no true Son of Agrippa, who choose to waste your incense in raising the meagre spirit of friendship, when the wisdom of the prince of this world would have inspired you with more profita ble sentiments. Let me hear, at least, of your health ; and believe that no absence can lessen what the expressions of your good-will have made me, that is to say, very much your servant. I have now put that volume of which the Epistle to Augustus is part, to the press ; so should be obliged to you to send it, by your letter-carrier, directed to Mr. Knapton, bookseller, in Ludgate- Street. But you must be careful not to pay the carriage, because that will endanger a miscarriage, as I have often experienced.1 — I intend to soften the conclusion of the note about Grotius and the Arch bishop, according to your friendly hint. rj LETTER VIII. Mr. HURD to Mr. WARBURTON". Cambridge, October 2&th, 1749, REV. SIRj I HAVE read, with gr eat pleasure, the six sheets of your discourse on Julian. The introduc tion, which respects Dr. Middleton, is extremely handsome. I agree with you, he ought to be pleased with it. That he will be so, there may be reason to, doubt. I suspect your candour hath put a distinction, which the learned Inquirer never thought of. However, a fair occasion is offered of explaining himself. For the discourse itself, you have established the fact with uncommon force and perspicuity. The characters of Julian and Marcellinus are very mas terly. And the evidence you make the Apostate bear against himself, is one of those happy conjec tures, or rather discoveries, peculiar to your genius. The only thing, that sticks with me at all, is, where you shew, from the nature and end of Ju daism, that the destruction of the temple must 18 needs be final. Your reasoning, as I apprehend it, stands tlius. The Jewish worship, as being the shadow or figure only of one more perfect, was, of necessity, on the introduction of the substance, to be done away. The temple was essential to the subsistence of that worship. Therefore the temple itself was also utterly and finally to be destroyed. But may it not be said, that all, which follows from the dependence of the two dispensations, is, that the one was to cease, that is, to be no longer of obligation, on the appearance of the other 9 Was any thing more requisite to the establishment of the Christian Institution, than that -the Jewish be declared null and void ? Or, was the honour of God's providence concerned to defeat, by extraor dinary means, and overrule the. Jew's perverseness in adhering to his abrogated ritual ? The destruc tion of the temple might, as you observe from St. Chrysostom, be a means of withdrawing the Jew from the rage of ritual observances.- But was it essentially necessary, on account of the dependence betwixt the two religions, to the subsistence of Christianity ? It is very likely, I may misrepre sent or misconceive your argument. But you will perceive, I. suspect some ambiguity in the term done away in the major proposition; and that my doubt is, whether it necessarily means, that the Jewish Worship was to be removed, i.e. the obser vance of its ritual to be absolutely prevented, and 19 rendered impfacticable, — or that the law itself, enjoining such worship, was, simply, to be abro gated, or repealed. I interest myself the more in the success of this argument, as it renders the miracle, here de fended, of the last importance to Christianity ; and thereby affords an illustrious instance, among a thousand others, of the momentous use, to which that great work of the D. L. will be found to serve. On the whole, I can rely on your excuse for the freedom, 1 have here taken in hazarding these loose thoughts. Whatever else they may fail in, they will, at least, be a proof of the entire confidence I repose, in your friendship, when I take a rout of so little ceremony to assure you of the very particular -esteem, with which I am, always, Rev. Sir, Your most obliged and most faithful humble servant, R. HURD. C 2 20 LETTER IX. I HAVE just received your ' truly friendly letter of the £5th, sent me from Bath. Your ob jection "to my argument, about the abolition of the Temple worship, is extremely accurate ; and the least that it shews me is that I have not been suffi ciently clear. 1 will state it over again, and see if I can make any thing of it : of rather you will see ; for if you do not, I am sure there is nothing itt it. But first let the premise that the necessity of God's interfering to prevent the re-building, does not arise from the incompatibility between Judaisin and Christianity ; but from the prophecies of the destruction. So that had there been no incompati bility, yet if there had been a prophecy, God's ho nour was concerned. You will say, yes ; if that prophecy was of a final destruction. But that is the question. I own it : and to determine that question was the reason I considered the incompa tibility. You will say then, though God's inter fering does not depend immediately on the incom patibility, but on the prophecy, yet it does medi ately. But neither would I allow this. For I think I could prove, though there was no moral necessity, but only an expediency (which you will allow) for the abolition of the Temple worship, yet if, for the 21 sake of that expediency, God decreed to abolish it, and prophesied of that decree, the abolition must be understood to be final, and consequently his ve- fraeity would be concerned to hinder the rebuilding. But as. I have contended for a moral necessity (by which vI mean, the bringing of that thing to pass which the relation of things, in God's religious dis pensations, requires) I shall endeavour to shew there was one. The abolitiqn of a preparatory Religion son the introduction of that which it prepared the way for, is not a matter of every day's experience. There is but one instance in the world, and never will be anether. Now let us divest ourselves of all the common notions of theology, and then consider what an abolition one would expect ; — an actual or virtual only ? certainly the first. But generally speaking, religion is of such a nature that an actual eould not be had without a miraculous force upon the minds of men ; hence a virtual abolition is all that, in common cases, one could reasonably expect. But if this abolished Religion should consist of two essential parts, essentially distinct ; and that one of these, from its nature and circumstances, might be Actually abolished without any sueh force on the will, should we not then expect it to be so ? Cer tainly; because that only circumstance which shews it unreasonable to expect an actual abolition, is away. Now Judaism consisted of two essential parts, a jprivate, and a public. To the public 22 belonged a local worship. This worship might be actually abolished without any such force upon the will. We conclude therefore the nature of things requires it should. We see it actually abolished ; and from this, and the Prophecies, we are supported in the principle of a moral necessity for it. For it is certain, that the reason of things and the Pro- phecies support each other, and enable each of them to bear the conclusion we draw from the other, of a final destruction. Nor do I see there is any thing illogical in so employing them. On the whole, then,' I conclude, that a virtual abolition of circumcision, purification, abstinences from meats, &c. (which belong to the private part of the Jewish Religion) is all that could reasonably be expected ; but that the actual abolition of the Temple worship (which belongs to the public part) seems to be re quired from the nature of things, There are various other considerations to support this conclusion — such as the necessity of shewing this nation was no longer God's peculiar ; which could not well be done while they were in possession of that worship, which was the characteristic mark of their, being his peculiar — the transferring of the Kingship of the Jews from God to Christ. But the temple worship was the specific act of allegi ance, &c. There are many other considerations of equal weight. But, if I be right, I have said enough tpyou; if wrong, a great deal too much. Bedford-Ro-e, October 31st, 1749, 23 LETTER X. Bedford^Row, November 28th, 1749. AN old acquaintance of mine, Mr. Caryl, of Jesus, after many years, solicitation, has at length got a poor prebend of the Duke of Newcastle. As this vacates his Fellowship, he imagines it will va cate his Preachership at Whitehall. On which account he has just wrote to me to use my interest with the Bishop of London for the continuance of it. Though I ask nothing of him myself, and have rea son to be dissatisfied with him, I cannot refuse a friend. — I have riot yet seen Mr. Caryl. But I hear his continuance in the preachership is imprac ticable, and contrary to the institution. If so, I dare say he is too reasonable a man to desire I should ask an absurd thing; But this has put it into my head to ask you whe ther you be a Whitehall preacher. If not, whether any of your College be ? and if two of the same College be ever appointed ? If you have it not al ready, and should like it, and that it lies open, what should hinder me from asking this for you, of the B. L. as a favour done to myself ? It is a great question whether he would oblige me : but I should like to try him, if the request for Caryl cannot be u made, as I suppose it cannot. I shall urge him ; and if he denies me, it will be no great mat ter to you, and as little to myself: I shall have only one subject more to fall out with him upon*. I am just on the point of leaving London for Prior- Park, where a letter will find me. LETTER XL Prior-Park, December $th, 1749. BOTH your obliging letters are now before me. I like your discourse on the Templej in that of 28th past, so well, that if you choose to enlarge it into the form of a Dissertationy I will print it at the end of my Book, either anonymous, or with your name, as you like. If. not, I will, if I can possibly contrive it, try to get in the substance some where. But this is not so eligible. The packet came safe to Mr. Knaptoifs. Your letter of the 30th I have received an hour or two ago. I thought it proper to lose no time, and have wrote by this post to the Bishop of London. I * He thought the Bishop, who professed himself to be his friend, should have restrained some persons, of known depend ence upon him, from writing with much bitterness against the D. L. — Hence the dissatisfaction expressed in this, and som,9 4>ther Letters, H, 25 send you inclosed a copy of the Letter. It will do no harm, if it dees no good. I think at least it must certainly produce your being put upon his list. However, if his knowing you for what you are, produce no good effect to you, my knowing him for what he is, will produce a good effect to me. Be lieve me to be what you have made me, , Dear Sir, Your truly affectionate friend and servant;, W. WARBURTON. LETTER XII. Mr, WARBURTON to the BISHOP of LONDON J1Y LORD, PRESUMING on your Lordship's favour, and even friendship, I desire to prefer one of the^ two following requests. Mr. Caryl, a fellow of Jesus, whom I have long intimately known, and for whose excellent character I can answer, has lately got of the Duke of New castle, a small prebend of Southwell, in Notting- Jiamshire, which vacates his Fellowship. He has 26 been some time a preacher at Whitehall ; and if it be not contrary to the practice or to the institution, the mediocrity of his circumstances in a married life (for I need not teU your Lordship, old residents in College rarely quit their Fellowships but for a wife, and oftentimes quit them on small tempta-. tions besides) this, my Lord, makes him very desi rous, as he shall live in the University, to continue his Preachership : and his character is such, that what he wishes, his friends cannot but be solicitous to help him to obtain. But neither he nor they would ask for any thing so improper as the going against uniform practice and institution. If this should unfortunately be the case, then, my Lord, give me leave to bespeak your favour for another friend: so willing I am to be obliged to your Lordship. It is for Mr. R. Hurd, Fellow of Emanuel Col lege, of which there is, at this present, no White hall preacher. I do myself the honour to call him my intimate friend, for he is one of the best scho lars in the kingdom, and of parts and genius equal to his learning, and a moral character that adorns both. These, I know, are the best recommenda tions to your Lordship. Nor has your Lordship suffered me to think so meanly of myself as not to believe that what I so much interest myself in (as in the service of my friends) will have some weiofrt with your Lordship. I am, &c, W. w 27 LETTER XIII, Prior-Park, December llth, 1749, MR. Caryl's holding the Preachership is judged inconsistent with the quitting his Fellow ship. But he has his grace in it till May next. - I believe I may congratulate you on the certainty of your succeeding him at that time. At least I Understand the inclosed to signify thus much.: — It is time you should think of being a little more known ; and it will not be the least thing acceptable in this affair, that it will bring you into the acquaintance of this Bishop, who stands so supereminent in the learned and political world. I can overlook, a great deal for such a testimony, so willing to be paid to merit; believe me I shall always have a particular pleasure in seeing it have its due. But to turn to a subject we both like better, tell me sincerely your opinion of the new edition of Milton ! not as a Bookseller or Petit Maitre, about the print and the pictures ; but as a Critic, about {jeep1 erudition of its fariorums. 28 LETTER XIV, The BISHOP of LONDON to Mr, WARBURTON. Temple, Dec. 10th, 1749. SIR, I HAD the favour of yours, and say very truly, that it will be a pleasure to me to shew the regard I have long had for you. Mr. Caryl has been with me, and I told him that when his Fellowship becomes void, the quali fication for a Whitehall preacher will be gone ; but his turn being in May next, X apprehend he means to continue Fellow so long, and to preach his next turn. When the vacancy happens, I shall not be unmindful of your recommendation. I am told we are to expect soon something from your hand in vindication of the miraculous preven tion °f Julian's attempt to rebuild Jerusalem. I have a pleasure in seeing any thing of yours ; and I dare promise myself to see the argument you have undertaken, set in a trUe and clear light. — I am, Sir, / Your very obedient humble servant, THOMAS LONDON, 29 LETTER XV, Prior-Park^ December 2Zd, 174*. 1 HAVE the favour of two of yours to ac knowledge. I make not the least doubt of the Bishop's keeping his promise to us. I have just read the most silly and knavish hook 1 ever saw ; one Lauder on Milton's Imitations. Ari observation at the bottom of 44 and the top of 45, proves hini either the one of the other with a vengeance. If there are those things in Masenius, why did he not produce them ? They are of more weight to prove his charge than all he says besides. If they are not, he is a knaves— I thiak he has produced about half a dozen particular thoughts that look like imitations. — But the matter oiimita- tion is a thing very little understood. However, in one view the book does not displease me. It is likely enough to mortify all the silly adorers of Milton, who deserve to be laughed at. Poor Job ! It was his eternal fate to be persecu ted by his friends. His three comforters passed. sentence of condemnation upon him, and he has been executing in effigie ever since. He was first bound to the stake by a long catena of Greek Fa thers ; then tortured by Pineda; then strangled by Caryl, and afterwards cut up by Wesley, and ana- 30 tomized by Garnet. Pray don't reckon me amongst his hangmen. I only acted the tender part of his wife, and was for making short work with him, But he was ordained, I think, by a fate like that of Prometheus, to lie still upon his dunghill and have his brains sucked out by owls. One Hodges, a head of Oxford, now threatens us with a new Auto defe. I have been revising my notes on the Essay on Criticism (I mean for the general edition — that lit tle thing you see advertised I have never seen nor know any thing of), and have corrected what I said, in conformity to the notions of Mr. Addison and other critics, about the Ars Poetica. For which better notion of the work I and the public are in debted to the English Commentator upon it. lam, &c. 31 LETTER XVI. Prior-Park, January 13th, 1749-50. I HAD the pleasure of yours of the 2d Jan. and should have acknowledged it before ; but that my time was taken up by several accidents, amongst the rest by a visit which Mr. C. Yorke was so kind to make me at this place. He came down from London to spend the Christmas with me. The first news I had of Dr. M 's attack on the Bishop of London, I had from Mr. Yorke. The public papers now speak of it. I was not sur prised at it, for he was full of complaints of the two Brothers * when I saw him in town last summer. The Bishop, I believe, will have more Defenders than he will care for ; more, I dare say, than will do him honour. I am told he considers the book in the view of an answer to Collins's Grounds and Reasons. He will certainly have his advantages of it in that view. But I question whether it is a fair one. I only consider the Bishop's book of Pro phecy as occasioned by Collins's book, not as an answer to it. Under this last consideration he has certainly left Collins in possession of his argument. So has every body else who wrote against him. * Bishops Sherlock and Gooch. H. 32 Which was the reason I have employed a section against his book, and pretend to have overthrown his fundamental principles. But of all visionary projects, the pretending to settle a point, to end the disputes about it, is the most foolish. One half of your readers cannot see it ,- and the other half will not acknowledge it. So the old Mumpsi- mus keeps on its way. You see an instance of this (about the rise, progress, and nature of ancient ido latry) in Blackwell's Letters on Mythology. I am much pleased with your beginning to grow in earnest with the Epistle to Augustus. Nothing can be more useful than the note you propose about imitation in works of genius. , The thing is not at all understood. And no wonder > it is deep, and is reserved for you. By mere accident I have nothing about it in my notes on Pope. I a little wonder at it, now you make me reflect on it ; but am not a little pleased that it is left for you. Menage, as I remember (for it is many years ago since I read it) has, in the preface to his edition of Malherbe's poems, some things on pretended imitation not ill observed; but he only skims the matter : however* yqu would not be displeased to see what lie says. Though there is little need, yet I shall look over your notes, for the purpose you recommend, with much pleasure. For I am resolved you shall not have my neglect of that as an excuse, for not making the critical part of Horace complete. 33 LETTER XVII. BedfordRow, January 30th, 1749-50. ' lOUR last favour of the 23d instant was sent me hither from Prior-Park, which I left about ten days ago, and whither I propose to return in about a fortnight. We agree entirely in our sentiments about the Examination. I think it the weakest as well as warmest pamphlet the Doctor ever wrote. . But I - agree with you there is no harm done. It may be of use to make people understand themselves. I disagree with the Doctor in his two general questions. The first is, that there is no System of Propjiecy, but only particular, detached, unrelated Prophecies. His reason is, that Christ and his Apostles refer only to such. By the same kind of reasoning I could prove there is no System of Mo* rals, because Christ and his Apostles recommend and inforce only particular detached virtues occa sionally. But is not the reason of this evident enough ? They had to do with the common people, who cannot comprehend or attend to a long deduc tion or chain of things. They can only see simple 34 truths, and it is well they can see them. Take a plain man with an honest heart, give him his Bible, and make him conversant in it ; and I will engage for him he will never be at a loss to know how to act, agreeably to his duty, in every circumstance of life. Yet give this man a good English translation of Aristotle's Ethicks (one of the most complete works for method in its kind) ; and by that time he has got to the end of it, I dare say he will not un derstand one word he has been reading. But is the explanation of the (Economy of grace, in which is contained the System of Prophecy, that is, the connexion and dependence of the prophecies of the several ages of the Church of God, therefore of no use ? Surely of the greatest. And I am confident ¦ nothing but the light which will arise from thence can support Christianity under its present cirqum- stances. — But the contending for single prophecies only, and by a man who thinks they relate to Christ in a secondary sense only, and who appears to have no high opinion of second senses, looks very suspi cious. What would one think of an advocate at the Bar, who When the contrary party had made out his point by a number of various circumstances that supported and threw light upon one another, should reply, and say, " You are a maker of fanciful hypo*- - theses ; you have brought all these various unrelated circumstances into a body or a system : but you should consider them as separate and distinct, for so they were delivered in at the Bar by the witnesses ?" 35 — If the Doctor ever considers these Prophecies, as he seems to promise he will, I perhaps shall have something to say to him. The other point is the Fall. It is managed just in the manner you say — He will have it to be ah allegory. I agree it is so. In this we differ : — He supposes it to be an allegory of a moral truth, namely, that man soon corrupted his ways ; and seems to think, by his way of speaking, that an alle gory can convey no other kind of information. I say it is an allegory of a moral fact, namely, that man had transgressed that positive command (what ever it was) on the observance of which the free gift of immortality was conditionally given. In this interpretation Christianity has something to bottom itself upon : on the Doctor's notion it is a mere castle in the air. But I do not pretend you should understand what I mean, till you see it developed in my discourse of the nature of Christianity, which makes the IXth Book of the Divine Legation. — rBut on this point the Doctor's and the Bishop's notions are not veiy different, though controversy has kept them at a distaoce. Browne, of Carlisle, in a letter to me, has these words — " I read his [yours] Comment with plea- " sure, and his notes with admiration. If I had not " known the contrary beforehand, I should have " held the man in great contempt that had not de- " termined them to be yours at first reading. When- " ever you see him, pray tell him the little man, ."he D 2 36 « saw at Mt. Balguy's, desires to be remembered "by him." , Mr. Browne has fine parts : he has a genius for jpoetry, and has acquired a force of versification very uncommon. Poor Mr. Pope had a little be- $«re liis death planned out an epic poem, which he btagan to be very intent upon. The subject was Brute. I gave this plan to Mr. Browne. He has wrote the first hook, and in a surprising way, though an unfinished essay. I told him this was to be the work of years, and mature age, if ever it was done : that, in the mean time, he should think of .something in prose that might be useful to his character in bis own profession. I recommended to Mm -a thing I once thought of myself. It had been repommended to me by Mr. Pope. An exa mination of all Lord Shaftesbury says against Reli gion. Mr. Pope told me, that, to his knowledge, the Characteristics had done more harm to Revealed Religion in England than all the works of Infidelity put together. Mr. Browne now is busy upon this work. Apropos, I heard very lately that my friend was the author of that fine little pamphlet that has so irretrievably spoiled the credit and the sale of that vain simple book of Westoris. But remember, if this be a secret, I do not ask for it. We have had Mr. Poiritz at Bath this season for his health ; as our two families have a great inti- . macy, we had the pleasure of his company fre- ;:quently at Prior Park. He had been reading your 37 book, and; was agreeably surprised, with so masterly a performance. He asked me if I knew the author.,, whom he supposed might be a Scotsman, from, hist fondness for Hutcheson. I told him it was. one o| his own University, which gave him an additional pleasure- Pray if that letter be still in being in which. I gave you my thoughts about what may be collected from the prophecies or the genius of the two Reli gions concerning the final destruction, pf, the Tem ple, in answer to your doubts, be so good to. look, it over ; and if you, think there be any thing expla-* natory or corroborative of what I say in the hegin^ ning of my book, be so good to. transcribe those passages for me— if I have not quite tired ypu, put, with the length of this. LETTER XVIII, Bedford-Row, February 10th, 1749-50. I DO not greatly Wonder at the groundless report you hint at. I believe such a thing at this time would not be an unacceptable service. But nothing but the obligations of gratitude could en gage me in such a thing, or the stronger obligations of what one owes to a true friend. Neither of these coming into the question, you may be sure I 38 "will never so much as hint at the quarrel. I have unavoidably been much with the Bishop of late, and he has been with me at this house; and this per haps may occasion the report. I dined with him to-day, and he told me a Clergyman had been with him to shew him an answer he had wrote against M. and desired he would peruse it ; he desired to "be excused. The other then asked him whether he forbid him to rneddle. The Bishop replied no, he might do as he pleased. — I took an opportunity to tell him he would have defenders in abundance; and said, my bookseller had just then told me of one, who had desired him to advertise an answer printing or printed in the North, against M. — My reason of mentioning this was, to speak to him ad vantageously of the author, not forgetting one cir cumstance (as I knew it would be fo the Bishop) of recommendation, that it was the Grandson of Dean Comber. Inter nos, this is a promising young man, but indiscreet, and a great deal too forward. He wrote to me on occasion of a little pamphlet against M. about imitation in Popish corruptions; and desired I would read his pamphlet. I declined it, just as the Bishop did in his case. He printed it, and then I read it. I thought myself obliged to him for his good-will. I saw marks of genius and sense in it, with too many puerilities. I was so free with him to give him good advice. I told him I thought he would prove able to do considerable service in his profession, if by a course of study he 39 would give time to his genius to develope itself, and his judgment to mature. I believe he has been Writing every day since. — I should not forget to tell you, that the first time I saw the Bishop of London after I came to town, he assured me before the Bishop of Lincoln, you should have the Preach ership when Caryl had preached his next course. I wish it had been any thing of solid advantage. However you will get just as much by it as I do by mine, who pay more for the rent of my house yearly, than I receive .from Lincoln's Inn. — I shall re-print the first leaf of Julian, and shall leave out the introduction and put in another, in which there will not be one word of Dr. M. If I was not to tell you the reason, you would suspect it. was done out of regard to B. L. But indeed it is no such matter. A particular friend of mine, of high station, no churchman, and greatly partial in favour of Dr. M. and his writings, but who loves me, and is very regardful of my interest, told me some parts of it would offend the Clergy, and others looked like an unwillingness to enter the list with the Doctor ; so that he thought, my interest, and what he equally regards, my honour, might suffer by it. He has a higher opinion of me than I deserve, and he thinks I should not enough consult what he calls my own dignity in such an introduction. As he was earnest with nje>in this matter, I have complied with him. Pray give me your thoughts. AH you say of Mr. Browne's poetical scheme is 40 exactly true : and, to speak in the classical language, it must be committed to the Gods. Time will shew whether they will mature it. It gives me great pleasure to understand you was the author of that fine Pamphlet which has now made that egregious coxcomb's foolish book no more spoken of. It shall remain a secret with me. But it was spoken of publicly at Bath (and I believe with a design that I should know it), by a gentleman of St. John's, who was in some nobleman's family there, I believe it might be the last Duke of So merset's ; he that died the other day. ^ ¦¦¦ AU that I referred to in Menage waVhis note on that line of Malherbe, Darbitres de la pMx, defoudres de la guerre : in which that discourse' you speak of is mentioned, but whether ever he.wrcte any such I know not. I wanted to know the character of Hutcheson from so good a judge. • You speak so advantageously of him, that in your next I beg you will give me a list of his best books, which I will get. I have a thousand things, dear Sir, to pour out myself upon to you, and yet my paper warns me to leave off. But I cannot omit recommending to you the late Lord President Forbes's little posthumous, work on Incredulity. It is %. little jewel. I knew and venerated the man ; one of the greatest that ever Scotland bred, both as a Judge, a Patriot, and a Christian. I am, Dear Sir, Ever, &c. 41 P. S. There is a little edition of the Dunciad pub lished for the market. I -did nob think it worth sending to you, because there is a better in Teserve, which I intended for you. In this there is a new Dunce or two who came in my way. But I shall have one general reckoning with them (which I hope you will not think unsuitable to my character), and then adieu with the Dunces for ever. LETTER XIX. I AM to thank you for your last favour, and to tell you how much I am pleased that you agree with the expediency of my alteration. — I am got to the concluding part of my work, the answer to the capital objection, that it was a natural event. You will think it is a very silly one, but the Mathemati cians rest all upon it. This tribe of men, I do not mean the inventors and geniuses amongst them, whom I honour, but the Demonstrators of others' inventions, who are t&i times duller and prouder than a damn'd Poet, have a strange aversion to every thing that smacks of 'Religion.? I speak my thoughts of them in a manner you will not disapprove in my Introduction, which you have not seen, which is an 42 apology for the Fathers— If my conclusion be re tarded by my unconquerable laziness longer than I at present foresee, I shall have time to send you this said Introduction. You ask about the Prebendary of Rochester. Browne (the Pipe-of-Tobacco BroWne) wrote a "lampoon on lord Granville, called " The Fire-side." To add the more poignancy to his satire, he, in the wantonness of his spleen, conceived a design that Upton should write notes upon it. He knew him to be dull enough not to see the drift of the lampoon, and vain enough to think himself ho noured by the request ; so he got him to his cham bers, and persuaded him to write what indeed he himself in part dictated to him. In this condition the lampoon was printed, and then Browne told all his acquaintance the joke. I had it not from himself, and therefore was at liberty to speak of it. But was it not a charity to caution him against a commerce with this species of wits, whose charac- " teristic is what Mr. Pope gives them, of " A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead !" Upton's offence was well known, but it is not always so. For one does not care to trouble the public with particularities, nor perpetuate the me mory of impertinent and forgotten abuse ; hence you gain the character, amongst those who neither know you, nor your provocations, of being unjustly censorious and satirical. I will giye you an instance 43 of what I said first, in the case of Burton', whom you will find in the Dunciad*. Thjs man, two or three years ago, came with his wife and family to Bath. They brought with them a letter of re commendation to Mr. Allen's notice, who received them here several times with distinguished civili ties. And the first thing the puppy did afterwards was to abuse the man, who received him so hospi tably, with a saucy stupid joke. Hayter, you know ^whom I mean, I owe him the ceremony of no other title, got a friend to excuse him to me, as meaning no ill, but the mere effect of dulness, which mistook it for a compliment. I thought this did not excuse him being laughed at. And I did no more. His intercessor had been a witness of the civilities he had received. But as to the Dunces, I have one general appeal against them to the publick at the end of my preface to Mr. Pope's works, and then adieu to them for ever. My House-maid has just wrote me news of a con siderable damage done me at my house in town. Some rogues have stolen a ton of lead off my coach house and stables. Pray let me put a case of consci ence to you. Can I, in classical justice, charge this theft upon the Dunces ? If they have done it, it is * In a small edition, 1750. He was, at the intercession of Pr. Hayter, Bishop of Norwich, left out in the general edition of all Mr. Pope's works, in 1751. H. 44 infinitely a greater damage thart they ever did me before, or are likely to do again. You have- the art of making the favours you do me to pass for obligations done to yourself. I shall pot forget to speak to the Bishop, as you desire ; and hope he won't do his civilities by halves. How goes on the Epistle to Augustus ? Prior-Park, February 24th, 1749-50. LETTER XX. THE finishing stroke to Julian has kept me till now from discharging my debt for the favour of your last. Your plan for' the discourse on imitation, I tell you without compliment, is admirable. And I long to see you fill up the canvass. Don't let me lan guish in expectation. In the Edition of Mr. Pope's works I have borrowed from you, and spoke my sentiments of your comment. But of this piece (was it composed) I should have much more use. But it will stand me in stead in his life, which I shall not publish with the first edition of his works. Rejoice with, me that I have done with Julian, and am returned to my old indolence, which state 45 I will keep in as Ipng as I can. But npw the third volume of the D. L. begins to look me in the face, and I have promised, you will find, a second volume of Julian. But I make my promises like a young Courtier; and keep my countenance when I break them, like an old one. The B. L. has sent me his Pastoral Charge. It is a very primitive discourse, and what is more, a very good one. The second earthquake has much frightened that colluvies of filth, the court and city. Pray God it may reform them. But we seem a' people devoted to de struction. Have you seen Lord Halifax's book of Maxims. He was the ablest man of business in his time. You will not find the depth of Rochefoucault's, nor his malignity. Licence , enough, as to Religion. They are many of them very solid, and I persuade myself 'were made occasionally, as the affairs of those times occurred, while he was in business. And we lose half -their worth by not knowing the occasions. Several of them are the commonest thoughts, or most obvious truths, prettily turned r some, still lower, pay us with the jingling pf sound for sense. "¦ Bishop Berkeley, of Ireland, has published a thing of a very different sort, but much in the same form, which he calls Queries, very well worth attending to by the Irish nation. He -is indeed a great man, and the only vteionary I ever knew that was. 46 I suppose this shallow dirty Brooke* you have been dabbling in may fancy me to be the author of a foolish pamphlet writ against him. I know some of Dr. M.'s friends suspected me to be the author. I have heard it was the Lay-Dodwell's. If this be Brooke's ground of abuse, he does me much less honour than Weston did. Pray once more let me- know that you are in earnest with your plan, and believe me to be, &c. P. S. Pray did you feel either of these earthquakes ? They have made Whiston ten times madder than ever. He went to an alehouse at Mile-end to see one, who, it was said, had predicted the earthquakes. The man told him it was true, and that he had. it from an Angel. Whiston rejected this as apocYyphal. For he was well assured that, if the favour of this secret was to be communicated to any one, it would be to himself. He is so enraged at Middleton, that he has just now quarrelled downright with the Speaker for having spoke a good word for him many years ago in the affair of the Mastership of the Charter-house. The Speaker the other day sent for him to dinner ; he said he would not come. His Lady sent; he would not come. She went to him, and clambered up into his garret to ask him about the earthquake! He told her^ * * Mr. Zachary Brooke, of St. John's College, Cambridge. H. 47 " Madam, you are a virtuous woman, you need not fear, none but the wicked will be destroyed. You will escape. I would not give the same promise to your husband." — What will this poor Nation come to ! In the condition of troops be tween two fires ; the madness of Irreligion and the madness of Fanaticism. LETTER XXI. I HOPE my Julian will be out in a few- days. I have ordered one to be sent to you, which, I know, you will read with your usual candour. Earthquakes are so fashionable a subject, and fiery eruptions now so much dreaded, that this old story may stand some chance of engaging the attention of the more serious, or the most frighted. The prospect of any good from this book is as unlikely as hurt from these late alarms. vThe greatest mischief these earthquakes have hi therto done is only widening the crack in old Will Whistoris noddle; ever excepting the fall of the pinaeles at Westminster. Where was the Genius loci of the school when this disaster hap pened ! perhaps in the office of Diana when her Temple was a burning, gone a midwifing to some Minerva of the brain, which is to make its first 48 bodily appearance in an immortal epigram at the next election of scholars. — Pray (not to profane- my question. by what it stands next) have you destined your discourse On imitation (which I have the highest idea of) for any particular work? I may tell you some time or other why I ask. Prior-Park, April 5th, 17 '50. I desire you would burn the sheets of Julian that you have in your hands. LETTER XXII. YOU may be sure your approbation of my book gives me much pleasure. Nor does what you. say of the specimen of Brutus give Mr. Browne less ; though with regard to the production of a new epic* poem I think entirely with you. We understood that he was much indisposed in the North. On which I wrote to him to Carlisle, to consult his Physicians, to know if the waters of Bath were likely to do him service; if they were, I desired he would come to Prior-Park to drink them. 'The next news I heard of him was from Cambridge, , by which I understood he had neyer received my letter. But on his coming to London he found it there. He accepted of the invitation, 49 and is now with us, where I shall leave him to drink the waters till he has enough of them ; and from hence he proposes crossing the country into the North. For my part, . I am condemned to go to London alone, to preach the two next terms ; in the interval between whichj I have some thoughts of going into Lincolnshire. Which reminds me of a neglect I have been guilty of. A worthy man of that country, Mr. Towne, formerly of Clare-Hall, a reasoning engine, as Voltaire calls Dr. Clarke, and a great admirer of yours, desired I would order one of his books of the Inquiry into the Opinions of the Antient Philosophers to be sent to you, which I have hitherto neglected to do. I am glad the discourse on imitation is advancing. If the .Commentary on the Ars Poetica and the Epistle to Augustus and that discourse will altoge ther make a just volume, I think they should do so. If they will not, I think the discourse should not be published alone. Pamphlets are soon forgotten ; and this should be conveyed to posterity. If Rutherforth's book against Middleton be in mere gratitude.to B. L. I sjncerely honour him for it. If there be any thing of gratitude, though it be with other impure mixture*; I cannot but give him some share of my esteem. But if it be, only a sordid view of interest, an itch for controversy, or. the vanity of shining, which sets him upon scribbling, he is to be laughed a|; and if he 50 attempts to hide those motives by the pretence of gratitude, he is then truly contemptible. I will only venture to say this, if he knows no more of theology than he does of morals, he is the meanest pedarit of the age. The affectation of being sin gular has made him a bad moralist. Will the affectation of being orthodox make him a good Divine ? Of the two, I think Stebbing the more tolerable, who labours to support other peopled nonsense rather than his own. And I can pardon the joke in his preface, that he pretends to no new discoveries, for the sake of his being in serious sad ness as good as his word. — I imagine that in about a fortnight I shall be in London^ But wherever I am, be assured you have there a friend who loves- you. It comes into my head, before I conclude, just to mention to you how I came to commend a book; or rather a man, whom I fancy you have never heard of. But you know as much of him as I do. His name (if it be a real name) is Toll. Without knowing any thing of this miracle-contro versy but what he found in Middleton and Dodwell, or indeed anything of antiquity at all (as appears by what he says of the state of physic in the time of Severus), he has ventured to moderate between' them, and with so much candour and good sense that I think it by far the best book that has been wrote on either side. The Public did not think fit to take any notice of it. And (as the. Clown 51 in Shakespear says) It' was a poor humour of mine to speak well of one that nobody else would. Prior-Park, Apr*il21st, 1750. " LETTER XXIII. BEING just Upon the point of returning into1 the country, I would riot leave the town before I made you my acknowledgments, for your last' favour of the '27th past. ' "' The hot weather, and a cough, which I hope the country airJ and exercise, which* I cannot take here, will remove, makes rile decamp without going through the carifpaigri of next term. The warfare of us soldiers of the Church militant is upon much worse terms than that of our predecessors? By the connivance at least of our superiors, our pay is lessened, and our duty doubled. Our predecessors had but one poirit to gain, which was to persuade people to save their souls. We have two: first, to persuade them they have souls to be saved ; which is so long a doing, that before we come to the second, we are ready to give place to another generation, and are both on our death-beds by the time this comes in question. What you say of Chapman's Charge is pleasant enough. The Bishop Of London told me of it, and I own I could not forbear laughing while he E 2 52 mentioned it ; as Gibber when he told his patron of an Ode he -made at School, said he was sure he could not forbear laughing at the sound. ,*i The inclosed book is for a young Gentleman whom I promised to introduce to your knowledge, as that by which I shall do him a real service, and lay myself under a real obligation to you. All this I say without the least affectation, as you shall judge by the case which I am going to open to -you, Mr. Richard Sutton, a pensioner of Trinity Col lege, is the younger son of the late Lady Sunderland and sir Robert Sutton, persons^with whom, I had a long and intimate friendship, and was unfler great obligations to. 'He is just come to College, . after having been long at the head of Westminster School A perfect boy in the simplicity of his manners, but of surprising acquirements. Besides his knowledge of the ancient languages, he speaks and writes Spanish and French with great exactness, under stands Italian, and is now learning High-Dutch, I had promised him you should take notice of j him. I am sure I cannot render him so great a service as by obtaining this favour of you. Besides, I believe the acquaintance and friendship of so pro mising a youth will be a pleasure to you* I believe you will find him perfectly docile. He has; deter^ mined for the Law. I have wrote to him, so that whenever you send for him you will, do a real pleasure to us both. Had I had any direction iu his education, he should not be where he is. 53 I do suppose your letter of thanks to the Bishop was sufficient. Only, when you come to town, yott will go to see him. I should be glad to carry you thither in the beginning of winter. LETTER XXIV. Prior-Park, July \\tH, 1750. , I HAVE received the favour of yours of the 4th with much pleasure. I perceive by it you have not received a letter which I wrote to you on my leaving London, and a little High-Dutch book to be intrusted to your con- " veyance. In that letter I acquainted you with the reason of my sudden return hither. A cold which had hung on me for two , months ended in a cough, for which I knew there w^s no remedy like country air and exercise; on which account I determined to take it forthwith, and am now, I thank God, much better, but not quite recovered, You was extremely good to deviate so much on the right hand (and I know if ever you do deviate it will be on that side) for the reason you mention. But if you have seen my friends at Grantham, particularly Mr. Towne, ypu will have no, reaspn to think yourself disappointed. There are half ^ 54 dozen worthy men there, with whom, for a course of years, I have spent the most pleasurable part? pf my life, And few things can make me amends for the loss I have of them, I am particularly glad you have given so sincere a pleasure to Mr. Towne, who will think himself both honoured and happy in your visit. If you think the= acquisition of a warm friend valuable, treasure him up in your heart, for such he will prove to you, for no esteem could be higher than his for you, before he knew you. I would have every man of virtue and letters imitate the true virtuoso-taste in this, who enjoy and even adore ancient coins for the elegance of their figures and the learning of their inscriptions ; and use as they deserve the current cash, which the necessities of life make it prudent to get as much of as they fairly can, but never be an idolizer of that which is a slave to every body else. I hear Dr. Middleton has been lately at London (I suppose to consult Dr. Heberden about his health), and is returned in an extreme bad condi tion. The scribblers against him will say they have killed him. But, by what Mr. Yorke told me, his bricklayer will dispute the honour of his death with them. Seriously I am much concerned for the poor man, and wish he may recover with all my heart. Had he had, I will not say, piety, but greatness of mind enough not to suffer, the pretended injuries of some Churchmen to prejudice him against ^Religion, I should love him living, 55 and honour his memory iis mother and sister ; some of which he speaks, ye I told him I would recommend him to you. And it.it gives him .great pleasure. I fancy by this time K '*e must be come back to College, from his cousin MM\ Spencer's, at Althorpe. Whenever you have leisure \ to give him an hour of your time, if you send foil him you will make him very happy. * Then Master of Westminster-School. H. 63 - I write in a hurry, because I would not lose this post, for the sake of finding your papers on my arrival in town. Prior-Park, October 1th, 1750, LETTER XXVII. 1 HAVE sent you some trifling observations, but the best I could make, or more properly the best you would afford me. They are not only trifling, but I am not certain of the truth of any one of them. But I would not appear to be wanting to you. And this wiU deserve that you should treat me well in your turn : and that is, to use them but just as they deserve, and reject all your judgment con demns, though this should extend to every one of them. It gives me great pleasure to understand that you "found benefit by your last- ramble. But nothing could give me greater than to find you have a determined purpose to prosecute the study of Theo logy at the fountain-head. You are the only successor 1 could wish to have. And if, for some secret reasons of Providence, these attempts be not defeated, I am sure, if you live, you will effect what I attempted, to make revelation understood, 64 which we are' ignorant of to a degree that will here after appear amazing to you. But Ex me verumque laborem 5 Fortunam ex aliis. Prior- Park, October 9th, 1750. LETTER XXVIII. I HAVE received your papers. It perfectly charms me, what I have read of it, which is the Cpmmentary. I could npt on this reading find a word to alter. Though you bespeak my candour, I will assure you I read it with much severity. What I am going to say, I say with the utmost sincerity. I think myself* very fortunate that I have as it were chalked out the road for such a genius, that will, I see, if he lives, complete what I aimed at, and had only an idea of: not only in this way of writing, but in another of infinite more importance. So that though I cannot but love and esteem the modesty which in your last letter but one made you talk of only being a Reader and not a Writer, yet if I could think that temper would gain more upon you than making you careful to get a thorough knowledge of your subject before you writ upon it, it would give me the sincerest concern in the world. I will tell you a truth, though it ought more to offend my 65 modesty than yours : I shall take more pleasure in being out-done by you, than in obtaining any lite rary victory over a learned adversary. But* for the future, I shall be more reserved in telling you what I think of yoU ; that is, upon condition you don't provoke me again by your talk of sticking to your Readership. Pray why dorit you, forthwith, put the Art of Poetry to the press. I foresee what you have sent me will be soon ready to follow it. I understand by a letter from Mr. Sutton, that he is not yet got back to College. Bedford-Row, October 29th, 1150.- LETTER XXIX. I HAVE run over your papers: and the hor nour'they do both to yourself and Horace is such as the best Poet and the best Critic need not be ashamed pf. I will read them again to see what is worth hinting at for your re-consideration, and then send them. But I could by all means wish you would conclude them with a note en imitation. And indeed that is the occasion of the present trou ble. If it be but an essay, on the plan you have laid down, it will be sufficient : but it will end your work so properly that something of this kind I think should be done. Besides, the subject is now fresh, 66 and would engage the attention. In a little time the occasion that has raised it, the silly book of Lauder, will be lost and forgotten, and with it the question itself, as far as concerns the general at tention. I am much indebted to you for your generous vindication of my dead friend, who was himself the very soul of friendship. ' Bedford-Row, October 21th, 1750. LETTER XXX. YOU are very obliging in complying with my desire. I think a concluding note on imita tion will complete the only piece of criticism that does honour to the art, since Isaac Casaubon. In return for your good-nature, I have been very se vere on the Comment on the Epistle to Augustus ; and, as severe folks generally do, talked very im pertinently on trifles ; which, before I came to the end, I was so ashamed of, that I have never looked them over, so- it will be good luck if you understand them, or rather good luck to me if you do riot. But it is no matter. I write for your use, as I do for my own, half words and hints. I would make amends for all by telling you a truth, which gives me more pleasure than all criticism — / love you. Your candour, your generosity of mind, your warm sense of the most trifling expression of my esteem, which a mere accident afforded me — for as Mr. Pope said to me in a letter once, "Fortune " will rarely suffer one disinterested man to. serve " another. 'Tis too much an insult upon her to let " two of those who most despise her favours, be " happy in them at the same time, and in the same " instance." — But let it suffice as I say,- that I love you. I know it will to you : though it will not to me. I have a friend here in town who saw a gbod friend of yours this last summer at Buxton, and gave me but a very indifferent account of his health : which gave me a sincere concern. I am no stranger to his excellent character, and think myself unfor tunate that I am not of his acquaintance. Pray bring us together, and assure him how much I ho nour him. The person I mean is Mr, Balguy, of St. John's. I have committed your papers, sealed up, to very sure hands, Mr Knapton, my Bookseller,; who promises to see it well conveyed. Bedford-Row, November 8 th, 1750. 68 LETTER XXXI. I HAVE .the favour pf yours of the Jl8th. It gives me great pleasure to understand that a man of so uncommon merit and so close connexion with you, as Mr. Balguy is, meets my inclinations and wishes to deserve his friendship with so much good nature and politeness. I shall think myself ex tremely happy in the hearts of two such men. These are all the pluralities, that are not sinecures, which I would accept ; and the only ones I am ambitious of. I do truly rejoice that the waters at Buxton have been of service to him, and the more 50, as I had been given to understand they were of none. But as this, has happily been the case, I hppe he will think of completing his cure at Bath, for we understand that the Buxton are only the Bath waters in an inferior degree, and less effica cious ; and I have more reasons than ene to wish he would try these. Without affectation, I was and am diffident of most of the hints I sent you with your MS. ; and we are too much above forms, and you are too much my friend, to do anything in such a work (which is to live) out of ceremony. For the rest, use me freely, and the oftener, the more welcome. I will always tell you my mind. I propose returning to 69 thisplace (which I shall leave for Prior-Park on Sa turday se'nnight) soon after Christmas. When are we to see you in town ? Have you sent yoUr book to the press? Is it to be printed here, or in Cam bridge ? This puts me in mind to thank you for one of mine in the press, which you have helped to ren der less faulty. It is certain enough that Amos and Zechariah do mention a very notable earthquake. I had forgot it: but your advice came just in time to put it in its place, which I would have done though it had made as much against my argument as it does for it. I have read over the Academic twice, with great pleasure. It is an admirable thing, and' full of de licate and .fine-turned raillery.. The author was cruel to turn it out and expose it, like an orphan, to the care of a parish nurse, a sleepy printer^ who had like to have overlaid it. There is an arch thing in the 7th page, which I like much ; and a fine, and, as I understand it, a friendly intima tion, in the note at page 27. Though I am a stranger to most of the facts, there is one I am no stranger to, and I heartily subscribe io its truth, though it makes against myself: I believe the legislators won't be so ingenuous. It is in page 26. In short, it is an excellent thing ; and I have have recommended it as such to the Solicitor-ge neral, who I had a mind should let Newcastle-house know the difference between their friends and their sycophants. The Bishop of Oxford was here this 70 morning, and I promised him a pleasure, which he seemed impatient to get to. He had seen the title of it in the papers. But our London books are like our London veal, never fit for entertainment or the table till they have been well puffed and blown up. He asked whether the author was known. -I told him no, nor I believed ever would ; and my reason was, that, for the sake of secrecy, he seemed to have dropped it, to be taken up by the first printer that; came by : and it was certain that he who found it had used it as if he was accountable tp nobody for h's treatment of it. Bedford-Roye, November 23d, 1750. LETTER XXXII. I HAVE the pleasure of your kind letter of the 16th ; and am glad to hear you have finished your labours on Horace. Glad, that literature will be enriched with so fine a piece of criticism ; but much gladder, that you will have now nothing, tp hinder the prosecution pf your great scheme ; the only subject worthy your talents, and sufficient to reward your virtues. It is generous and right in you, to take notice in an advantageous manner of two such promising young men as Mr. Browne and Mr. Mason, who 71 prevent us from despairing of the quick revival of the poetic, genius. Mr. Browne is printing his remarks on the Cha racteristics. It will be much better than you could conceive from the specimen you saw of it. Mr. Yorke and I advised him to give it a different form. We said, that if we were to answer a grave, formal, methodical work, we should choose to do it in the loose way of dialogue and raillery : as, on the other hand, if we wrote against a rambling discourse of wit and humour, the best way of exposing it would be by logical argumentation. The truth is (inter nos) his talents do not seem so much to lie towards fine and easy raillery, as to a vivacity, an elegance, and a correctness of observation in the reasoning way. Pray make my best compliments to Mr. Mason, X shall receive him as a gift from your hands, and shall cherish him accordingly : that is, he may be assured of always finding a servant and a friend in me. He had my esteem before, and I thought myself much his debtor on dear Mr. Pope's account; but, after the knowledge of your value for him, no; thing can be wanting to tie him very close to me. I think the model he writes his Poem upon, not only right in itself, but that his trial of the success of it is very commendable ; and, one should think? promising ; as it unites all that is admired, or affected, to be admired, in dramatic performances^ Music and Poetry. , 72 At present I make no question of my being- in town in March. I and my family go thither the latter end of January ; and the latter end of February I expect Mr. Allen and his will come to us ; which if they do, you and our excellent friend Mr. Balguy will certainly find me in Bedford-Row, where you will both always find a hearty welcome. If by any mischance I should be deprived of this pleasure, I have determined to make a Journey to Cambridge in the Spring, on purpose to embrace you and him. Your Capitism would make one more serious than, perhaps, the inventors of the word intended we should be. How happened it, in the definitions of nian, that reason is always made essential to him ? Nobody ever thought of making goodness so. And yet it is certain there are as few reasonable, men as there are good. To tell ypu my mind, I think man might be as properly defined, an animal to whom a sword is essential, as one to whom reason is essential. For there are as few that can, and yet fewer that dare, use the one as the other. I am led into this way of thinking,, not by the roguery of your Heads, which have little in them provoking, but by the wrong judgment of their Patron^, who can turn them any Way, and should direct them better. I will tell you the substance of what I said One day in conversation to one of these great men, I said that the proper vievys of electors in the Choice of a Chancellor were, protection of the Uni^ versity, and patronage of its deserving members 5 73 that the unanimity of the electors seemed to shew that they acted upon the most legitimate of the-two motives; so that they seemed to have discharged their duty. Their Chancellor too seemed to have these two objects in his eye, but his creatures had set them in an ill light. Instead of considering the University in good health, and of the means to keep it so, he immediately set upon a project to cure it of I can't tell what distempers ; instead of thinking of their food, he entered mto a consultation about their physic ; though self-love might have shewn him, there was a strong presumption that that body, which concurred so generally to prefer him to all his great Competitors, could not be much out of order. But the great ambition of adding the Law giver to the Magistrate, made him give ear to those sycophants who, in persuading him of the prevalency of a malignant spirit, left it ready for him to con clude how much must have been their zeal and industry to elude the influence of this wicked spirit, and bring his Grace in so handsomely. But I said, if it was resolved there should be new laws, how absurd was it to have them the inforce- ments of good old laws, rather than the abrogation of old bad ones? For a man so experienced in affairs should have known that though a multiplica tion of good laws do nothing against a general cor ruption of manners, yet the abrogation of bad ones greatly promotes reformation. But with regard to relaxed discipline in the idle ness and expence of students, this, I said, was never to be reformed by laws^ as he might sasily under stand by observing from whence they arose. When young men found that it was not learning or morals, but the blind or vicious favour of the great that was to advance them in life, they Would think no more of their studies, but how to introduce themselves into the bottle-acquaintance of young people of quality : that their parents ever encouraged them in it, and laid the foundation of it at the great Schools, where they send them purposely to contract, as they call it, early acquaintance with the great, at an expence frequently they can but ill bear. And these accomplishments for all the honours of the gown being only to be gained in the road of pleasure and amusement, it is a joke to think they can be debarred by a few foolish statutes. But let the Government (which his Grace takes himself to be) once declare that no man shall partake of its favours but who continues to distinguish himself by learning and virtue, it would be then as difficult to get the young people to the tavern as now into their studies. This led ine to tell him my thoughts of thpse Aca demics who are in the Duke's favour, and of those who deserve to be there. I overloaded neither of them, for I have little personal acquaintance, and no personal disgust to any of them. And for the others, they would bear a deal more than I could say of them. I am much obliged to you for the notice you are so good to take of young Dick Sutton. He has made his acknowledgements of it to me. He 75 is a charming boy. But Westminster has made his mind a little whimsical. He has an insatiable thirst after new languages. Pray check this in him. He wrote me word, the other day, he had a mind to study Arabic. I asked him whether the oratory of the writer -of Pocock's life had won upon him, who, in an earnest address to the youth to apply themselves to this charming language, assures them, as the height of their solace and consolation, that it contains twelve millions three hundred and fifty thousand fifty and two words. — I told him, I consented he should learn the odd two, provided he chose those two which signified the neplus of the Latins. - Were I to be the reformer of Westminster- School (with the highest reverence be it only whispered) I would order that every boy should have impressed upon his Accidence, in great gold letters, as on the back of the Horn-book, that Oracle of Hobbes, that words are the counters of wise men, and the money of fools. — How bad are the times when I must be forced to make all my payments of friendship to you in this sort of money ! Only be assured that it has the least alloy in it that ever this coin had, when I profess how much I love you, and how much I am, Sec. Prior-Park} December 23d, 1750. 76 LETTER XXXIII. Bedford-Row, February 1 5th, 1750-1. I HAVE read your excellent observations on the Drama, with great pleasure. It will be a very fine ornament to your work. • Our friend has done well to turn you from the object to the end. This logical accuracy of method would do as much good in practical morality, as in speculative criticism. I have but a word or two to propose to your con sideration. You say, "The proper end of Tragedy is the pathos, " including under this term, the passions of pity " and terror, &c. Comedy hath other views ; it " delineates human life, but for the purpose of " producing humour, by which I understand that " sensation of pleasure, &c." Now it is certain that pathos, which properly signifies an affection of the mind, may be so used ; though commonly, in English,, when we use the Word applied to Tragedy, we mean such sentiments as excite the affections. But as for the word humour, I think it cannot be used for that affection which you call a sensation of pleasure, but only for such sentiments as excite that sensation. Would 77 not then the expression be better in some such way as this ? The proper end of Tragedy is, by the pathos, to excite the passions of pity and terror, &c. Comedy, &c. by humour, to produce that sensation of plea sure, &c. ; and Farce^ &c. by what is called\&wr- lesque, to excite laughter, &c. Your observations concerning the moderated use of action and plot in Comedy are admirable. — As those intricate Spanish plots have been in use, and have taken, both with us, and some French writers for the stage, and have much hindered the main end of Comedy, would it not be worth while to give them a word, as it would tend to the further illus tration of your subject? — On which you might observe; that when these unnatural plots are used, the mind is not only entirely drawn off 'from the characters by those surprising turns and revolutions, but characters have no opportunity even of being called out and displaying themselves. For the actors, of all characters, succeed and are embar rassed alike, when the instruments for carrying on designs are only perplexed apartments, dark en tries, disguised habits, and ladders of ropes. The Comic plot is, and must, indeed, be carried on by deceit. The Spanish scene does it by deceiving the man. through his senses : Terence and Moliere by deceiving him through his passions and affections. This is the right: for the character is not called out under the first species^ of deceit ; under the 78 second, the character does all— I don't know whe ther I make myself understood. But it is no great matter. I mean nothing by it but what you have expressed more clearly. The last thing I have to take notice of, is a mere trifle, a small inaccuracy of speech. You call those who liVed under the great monarchies of Peru and China, Savages instead of Barbarians. But you must consider me as doing you more honour by this remark than by a better: as implying that this, which would be very allowable in an ordinaiy writer, is not to be indulged you. Mr. Balguy and you are happy in one another. It was my misfortune when I first set upon scrib bling, that I had nobody capable of doing me this service. And as the little I knew, I got without assistance, so I had none to help me in communi cating it to others. This is a misfortune too late to retrieve, and almost too late to lament. I am heartily glad our friend has cut out fresh work for you, in the Epistle to Augustus; and on this account I can be content to have the work a little procrastinated. It pleases me that Mr. Browne knows that Mr. Balguy and you, as well as I, think his second Essay inferior to the first, because it will do a young author, who appeared to me too obstinate in this matter,, some good. I thought the method he took in considering the defects of Lord Shaftesbury's morality, a wrong one. 79 You will conclude^ too, I must needs think, his ac count of moral. obligation, a wrong one. But as to this, I told him he must think for himself. And I never liked a friend the worse for being in a different' system. • In answer to this,, he said, that I mistook him; and that when- he speaks of happiness obliging, he used obligation only in the sense of motive. This gave me an opportunity to write to him as follows ; and so, with the old Casuists, ¦ liberavi animam meam. I said — " If you use obligation only in the sense " of motive, then I apprehend Shaftesbury, Clarke, " and Wollastpn, may say you differ not from them, " but in the use of a different term, which comes to " the same thing. They call virtue — beautiful,fit, " and true, for the very reason you call it beneficial : " namely, because it produces happiness : There- " fore when they say, the beauty, the fitness, the " truth of virtue is the motive for practising it, they " say the very thing you do, as referring to the " happiness of which virtue is productive. Your " whole ' controversy, therefore, with them, is that " very logomachy, or strife about words, which, in " the beginning of this part, you ridicule, and ob- " ject to those who have gone before you." " If, on the other hand, by motive you had " meant, as I understood you, real obligation, ",you must still needs be in the wrong, if (as you " hold) Shaftesbury, Clarke, and Wollaston, be so : " because, like them, you make real obligation to 80 " arise, as they do, from the nature of virtue, " and not, as their real adversaries do, from the ie will of a superior. For their real adversaries do " not say they are wrong in making it arise from " this or that property of virtue, such as its beauty, " its fitness, or its truth ; but in their making if " arise from an abstract idea at all; or indeed from " any thing but personality, and the will of an- " other; different and distinct from the person " obliged." I agree with you that his first Essay is a very fine one. It is entirely his own. The second (inter nos) he is not master of. And I find him much a stranger to the subject of the third. It was from what I had seen him capable of in the first, that I put him upon this work, as what was in his pro fession, would be acceptable to the Clergy, and useful to the publick. I now find it would have been better, had the project been laid, to publish the first Essay alone ; to have taken more time for the other two ; to have studied the subjects well ; and above all to have taken the best assistance of his friends. Instead of this, he has hurried through the work with great precipitation, which, though it shews the quickness of his parts, will not answer the end I proposed, his honour and service. Though in this I may be mistaken, and it may take better with the world, than if it had been what we three would have had it. 1 am vastly happy in what you tell me of our 81 friend's and your approaching journey to town. I do hot at present foresee that I shall leave the town sooner than I thought of. If any thing happens' to shorten my stay, I shall certainly take the liberty you allow me of letting you .know, that you may both hasten your journey a little sooner ; and I will do the same thing for you another time. * " I have ordered a little packet for you. It is two books of Julian, one for yourself, and the other for Mr. Mason. LETTER XXXIV. . Prior-Park, July l\th, 1751. ¦ ( ~ I HAVE your kind letter of the 6th. I am glad to Understand you are so agreeably circum stanced as you must needs be in the enjoyment of the, company of a young gentleman of great hopes so related to you^ Your friendship for me makes you infinitely over value those amusements, which the fondness for the works of one poet, and for the person of another, engaged me in. And though I have not the plea>- sure, which a consciousness that those tilings are what you call them, would give me, yet I have a -much greater, the assurance that what you say on. G 82 that head arises from the prejudices of a warm friendship for me. The passage, vol. V. p. 278, is justly reprovable. The word Huicheson slipped my pen before I was aware. I aimed only at his followers or disciples now of Glasgow, by whom I have been but scurvily used ; and though I was told it was by the example of their Master, yet I did not intend to give him a personal stroke ; though his giving so much vogue to Shaftesbury's system has hurt the science of Mo rals, and his giving so much credit to Shaftesbury's book has done discredit to Religion. I am glad you have taken notice of my mention of the Ethics of Epicurus, vol.1. Since I find you have not read one of the noblest works of Philoso phy of these latter times, Gassendi's Philosophia Epicuri, sive Animadversiones in Lib. X. Diog. Laertii. It is in three small volumes in folio ; the last of which treats de Moribus Epicuri, where he has shewn the injustice of the other sects (particu larly Tully's), in their representation of the Epicu rean morals. You will read this volume with infinite pleasure. And you may buy all three (which are very elegantly printed) I believe for little more than three shillings i so just a value does this learned age set upon the greatest authors, and the most finished compositions. But you must take this along with you, that Gassendi, a contemporary of Descartes, and piqued at his fame, set up for the reviver of the Epicurean Philosophy, in what related to 83 Physics and Morals (you may be sirre he gives up his Metaphysics) : so that you are to expect rather an advocate, in many instances, than a fair repre- senter. But this observation has place chiefly in his Physics. Your account of Lord Bolingbroke is truly enter taining. I should have thought that he spoke his sentiments, or rather his taste: for he who can call Montesquieu's Book of the Spirit of Laws a dis honour to the French genius, may well think Middleton's pamphlets unparalleled ; but that I know his perpetual railing against Montesquieu's Book arose from his having spoke slightly of Bolihg- broke's genius and writings. So that I think, with -you, he extols on the same principle that he depre ciated — Mistake him not, he envies, not admires. I imagine you have not received the last letter I wrote to you to Cambridge. The subject was only to desire you to let Mr. Mason know that I have reserved a set of Pope's works for him ; but know not how to convey it to him. I should desire he may know this, that he may not buy one, and that he may direct where it shall be sent to him ; for, in the letter he favoured me with, he does not give me any light how he is to, be directed to. Mrs. Allen is better, though so extremely weak, that it makes her case very doubtful. c 2 84 LETTER XXXV. Prior-Park, September 22d, 1751. I HAVE your kind letter of the 20th of last .month to acknowledge. I am sorry the morals of Aristotle have suffered any relaxation at Cambridge. The Laureat indeed says they did at Oxford ; but Scriblerus observes, that this was, only while he arid the players were there. But you are all turned players. I forgot to mention my approbation of one thing you said in one cf yours, which implied your con tempt for the character of Atticus. I confess/ of all that were ever called virtuous men, his character tp me is the least amiable : and I believe neither of us, though we might want, could esteem such a friend. . And jet the state of modern virtue is such, that it would not be easy to find one in this degree; I mean a friend that would really serve you, after he had served himself. You gave me great pleasure in letting me know you persevere in your design of applying yourself to "'the noblest studies. And you have the more merit in it, after so uncommon success in a study, that is in itself infinitely agreeable ; and in which, as few have succeeded, as in the right study of Theology. 85 I believe our friend Browne has both sense and modesty enough not to be intoxicated witb, his success. I envy him one quality : and that is, bringing his notions, and his compositions, to per fection at a heat; for I believe you will find his second edition verbatim the same with the first. For my own part, I have so imperfect an idea of my subject, arid rough-cast my composition so loosely, that my works, if they escape damning, are yet ih a state of purgatory ; and with so much terrestrial matter about them, that they would take till Plato's great year to purge and purify, had I time, and nothing else to do but to attend to them. I believe there are some thousand alterations in the language only, in the second edition of Julian ; and the first volume of the Divine Legation, now in the press, is so transmogrified that you will hardly know it again. Nor is this the effect of modesty (which would be some comfort), but of pride, and the having more respect for myself, than the publick : who, to give them their due, are not over delicate— "Curious, not knowing, not exact, but nice" Besides, I have often thought, that they esteem it a kind of insolence to alter or amend what they have stamped with their approbation. On which account, booksellers, who know mankind, for the general, better than authors, as having long expe rienced that caprice or accident always regulates the public judgment, would never by their good-will 86 have a successful hook made better in the second edition. For they have often known, and so have I too, a very imperfect book cried up in the first edition; and when rendered more complete in the second, let fall again as a thing of no notice. , Mr. Pdpe used to tell me, that when he had any thing better than ordinary to say, and yet too bold, he always reserved it for a second or third edition, and then nobody took any notice of it. But there is one book, and that no large one, which I would recommend to your perusal ; it is called, " The Theology and Philosophy of Cicero's Somn. Scip. examined*.'' It is indeed the neplus ultra of Hutchinsonianism. In this twelve-penny pamphlet Newton' is proved an Atheist and a Blockhead. And what would you more ? But if you are no friend to supercelestial flights, but content yourself to grovel on amidst the dregs of humah reason, I would recommend to your more serious perusal a little French book, in two volumes, intituled, " Essai sur l'origine des connoissances hu- maines." I will venture a crown that you have never seen it, because it is wrote in a very masterly way, and is singularly solid. But indeed the time in which it was published, which was the heat of our Rebellion, may something excuse us for the obscu rity in which it lies. You will find him greatly beholden to Locke, and you will think this a merit * See Life of Bishop Home, by Mr. W. Jones, p. 38. H, 87 in him, that he knew how to make so good a choice. I would particularly recommend to you the lf>th chapter (I think it is, for it was only put into. my hands for a little time by a curious person) of the second part. However, you may know it by these marks ; it is a long one ; ^ind, amongst other things, examines this question, how they came to have few or no great natural geniuses in the barbarous ages between the fall and revival of letters. In which he says something very uncommon and curious, and, I think solid; which, yet, it will not be easy to see the force of, without understanding his prin ciples in the first volume. I have received a very obliging, and (which is the. character of the writer) an excessive modest letter from Mr. Mason, whom I suppose you will have again shortly at College. I had forgot to tell you that our friend BroWne is now on a visit (on invitation) at Mr. George Lyttel- ton's. It is about 250 miles from him, and he is 'accompanied by his friend, Dr. Law, as far as Litchfield ; who takes this opportunity to visit hisr friend, the Bishop of Litchfield and Coventry. Which will prove the better Patron, the Layman or the Archpriest, for an even wager ? And you shall choose your side. I think they might as well have gone to Hell (I mean the Classical Hell) to consult Tiresias in the ways of thfiving. God help them ; for they are a couple of helpless creatures in the ways of this world; and nothing to bear their 88 charges but a little honesty, which, like Don Quix ote's Chivalry, will pass current in never an Inn between Carlisle and London. Those who have the noble ambition to make their regular stages, must dash through thick and thin ; must be soundly bespattered ; and, what to an ingenuous mind is as grievous, must as heartily bespatter. But they de serve no pity. , What is hard, is, that such travellers as you and I, who pick our way, and would ride at our ease; who fear nothing but being benighted; and , for the rest, can sleep as soundly at the Thatclted-House, as at the Mif re-Inn ; that we should be bespattered by the busy, dirty, servile rascals, that post by us, and view us with an eye of jealousy if we ride briskly, or with contempt if we saunter, this I say is very provoking. What could make that important blockhead (you know whom) preach against me at St. James's ? He never met me at Court, or at Powis or Newcastle-House. And what was it to him whether the Jews had a future life? It might be well for such as him, if the Christians had none neither. Nor, I dare say; does he much trouble himself about the mat ter, while he stands foremost, amongst you, in the new Land of promise ; which, however, to the mortification of these modern Jews, is a little distant from that of performance. Our family is yet at Weymouth. I suppose Michaelmas will bring them home. Mrs. Allen. is yet miserably infirm. She bathes, I hear, 89 in the salt water, - and they say gathers a little strength. P. S. At page 468 of the first volume of the Di vine Legation, I have thoughts of adding an exa mination of Plutarch's reasoning in his tract of Superstition, the most beautiful declamation of all antiquity. — Shaftesbury, Bacon,> and many ' others, seem to patronise his reasoning, which is one of the most ridiculous string of sophisms throughout. Now, pray tell me your mind. Will this be tanti ? You must understand I in tend to enlarge this 6th section of the third Book in two other places' — that where I speak of Enthusiasm, and origin of Idolatry. LETTER XXXVI. Bedford-Row,. November 18th, 1751. I HAVE been longer in your debt than I should have been, had I not heard that you was out of College. — Nothing can be juster than your reflections on the fortune arid revolutions of Epicu- fus's character. I am glad for what you tell me, that you are re vising your two manly and noble pieces of Criti cism. But you do yourself injustice in' putting 90 . yourself under a certain predicament. I am reading over again your notes on the Epistle to Augustus ; and am come to the 95th page, and, with all my caviling,, I could only lay my finger on the fol lowing : Page 48—" they had a thinness and subtifty''— a little equivocal. Suppose—" they had so thin and impalpable a contexture," or some such thing. Dele [" to gratify their impatient curiosity with more matter."] For — humour — r. apprehensions. Page 95, \. 13, dele [hence]— so much for that. matter. I repeat to you again, your criticisms are far too learned and masterly for, these wonderful times. Learn to write like Lord Orrery (whose im pression of Letters concerning Swift was all sold in a day's time), and you will have readers enough. It is full of beauties of all kinds. His characters of men is not the least. Ramus, Thomas Aquinas, and Descartes, were thought by Hooker, Grotius, and Locke, to be three great original geniuses ; but his Lordship has discovered they were a set of asses. Nor should his great improvements in Astronomy be overlooked. He calculates the return of Comets to the greatest minuteness. But the imperial flower of speech, the sovereign of this grove of delights, is what the French call Galimatias. — But seriously, what would this noble Lord say of his enemies, when he draws so charming a picture of diabUrie from his friend? Yet he himself told me he pur sued that friendship so sedulously, that he suffered 91 numberless indignities from Swift, before he could be admitted to any degree of familiarity. Perhaps then he but takes his revenge in this representa tion ; which, however, I believe a true one. But it seems a strange office in a friend to acquaint the publick with such truths. But all this inter nos. I will tell you another piece of literary news more . worth your attention. Old Fontenelle, who is be tween ninety and an hundred, has given , us very lately two volumes of Comedies, written many years ago, and intended for posthumous works ; but, as he says pleasantly, his length of life has quite ex hausted his patience, and he would stay no longer. The Comedies are of a very singular cast. Not only the scene of most of them lies in antiquity ; but great personages, such as Princes and Princesses, are of the drama. Yet it is not that foolish sort of thing, thatMoliere called gallant or heroic Comedy: they are on familiar subjects, much in Terence's manner. The contrivance of the action is excellent, nor are the manners ill painted. You know he ex cels in dialogue, by what you see in those of the Dead. The Tyrant (an odd title for a Comedy) is full of pleasantry ; and yet nothing unnatural. The Abdolomine gives us a fine picture of the manners ; and the Testament is very pathetic, but does not exceed the pathos of Comedy. In short, when I have done my best, I can give you but a faint idea of these extraordinary pieces. You must read them to know what they are. He has a long Pre- 92 ' face, to defend this species of Comedy. He advar*- ces some things that are false, absurdly; and some notable things that are true, obscurely ; for want of having your principles : and some things again, that you could apply and improve to support andx illus trate your principles. I don't know whether you can get these two little volumes, or whether you would care to buy them if you could ; therefore, if your curiosity leads you to desire to see them, I can satisfy it, and send them with that trifle, of mine you desired to have, by your carrier. I leave the town in eight or ten days. The Bishop of Clogher, or some such heathenish name, in Ireland, has just published a book. It is made up opt of the rubbish of old Heresies ; of a much ranker cast than common Arianism. Jesus Christ is Michael ; and the Holy Ghost, Gabriel, &c- This might be Heresy in an English Bishop ; but in an Irish, 'tis only a blunder. But, thank God, our Bishops are all far from making or vending Here sies ; though for the good of the Church, they have excellent eyes at spying it out whenever it skulks or lies hid. I need not tell you any thing of our friend Mr. Mason's affair about his Elfrida. He has told you, I make no doubt, what has passed between us con cerning it. But I wonder I don't hear from him again. 93 LETTER . XXXVII. I HAVE yours of the 28th past to acknow ledge. Your account of B is very entertain ing; He began his metaphysical course with licking up the drivel of the Hoadleians ; but has now set up for himself, though with this mortify ing circumstance, that, like the Orator Henley, nobody wi\l.dispute with him. Pray. what is Mr. Mason doing? Mr. Knaptori wrote me word not long since that he had received no copy from him. I think he has in all respects judged right, to give his poem to the publick as a classical performance : and it is not impossible but that those who had beeh most averse to have seen it brought on the stage the ordinary way, may be clamorous for its appearance there, some time or other, in their own way. As great a critic as you are, I believe your patience would not suffer you to read those detest able Letters on poor Swift in such a manner as to discover the hundredth part of the offences against common sense and science, that may be met with in them *. In the Memoirs of the Academie Royale des ' * A copy of these Letters, with Mr. Waiburton's free animad versions upon them, entered on the margin in his own hand, may be seen in Hartlebury Library. H. 94 Inscriptions, tome 8me of the Amsterdam edition in 8vo, but which, with the Histoire, make the llth, volume, there is a dissertation sur I'utilitd de limi tation, et sur la maniere dont on doit imiter — by Racine, the son of the Poet. It is but a short one, but after yours I had not the curiosity to read it. But, as you may, I just mention it to you. I suppose we shall have Dr. Middletoris works soon. I question whether the Bookseller does not repent of his project ere now, his subscribers are so few and slow. And the great Patron of them too is gone, which will be another draw-back. I think he did Middleton no more than justice in preferring him to himself. For where the chief merit in two writers lies in saying common things well, I shall always prefer him who says them with simplicity and ease, to him who delivers them with pomp and solemnity. I believe I have lost an enemy in Lord Bolingbroke. I am sure, Re ligion, and the State, has. I question whether we shall see any of his MSS. His " Apology for his Public Conduct," which I have seen, affects too many parties, to see the light ; and his apology for his private opinions would shock the people too much, as dissolute as they are now grown. His " Letters concerning the use of reading History" (the best of his works, as his " Patriot King," 1 think, is the worst), I suppose we shall see, because there are printed copies of it in several hands. It is in two volumes, 8vo. It was this work which occa- 95 sioned his aversion to me. There is a dissertation in it against the canon of Scripture, which I told Mr. Pope was full of absurdities and false reasoning, and would discredit the work : and, at his desire, I drew up a paper of remarks upon it, which Lord Bolingbroke never forgave. He wrote an answer to it in great wrath and much acrimony ; but, by the persuasion of a great man, suppressed it. It is pos sible it may now see the light. The paper it was an answer to, was drawn up one Summer's afternoon, as Mr. Pope sat by me, without taking my hand from the table till it was done, so that, as it con tained several sheets, you will easily believe he had advantage enough of me. All here are glad to hear of your health, and desire their best respects to you. Mrs., Allen con tinues growing better, but is yet very infirm of body. My wife bids me tell you she would not be second to any one in her good opinion of you. And you know, I hope, how much I am, &c. Prior- Park, December 29th, 1751. 96 LETTER XXXVIII. I HAVE the favour of your very kind letter of the 3 Oth past, while one from me was travelling tp you on the road. Is not there soihething very original in Forite- nelle's prose comedies ? I mean with respect to the modern Drama. For I think them a fine and very singular copy of the ancient. And though I be not , such an idolizer of antiquity as Harris, yet they have great charms for me. The Abdolomine. is, properly speaking, the master-piece. As to the preface, he has struck out some curious- "hints, but he has the view of his subject only through a mist, it greatly more confirms, than opposes, your system. But what 'will be of chief " use is, that it will be able to excite new ideas in you to perfect your subject. You please me more than you can conceive in your new project of making your note on the Drama into a dissertation for the first volume ; and the importance, and, as it is han dled, the novelty of the subject, requires it should be thrown into a form of more dignity. Spare no pains, and go upon it directly. I will be to you instead of Moliere's old woman ; for I find I am growing into one apace. 97 I think you have altered our friend's scheme to much advantage. Less precision is expected when we address the publick obliquely, than when directly. And the novelty is rather an advantage. For a pre face is held so much a thing in course, that it is generally passed over unread, as matter of form. You surprise me when you tell me you had not much considered the Philosophy of Grammar, after having given such proofs of so masterly criticism. But it will be a pleasure to you to know that you may consider it, if you please, in a very masterly work, the Grammaire generate et rdisonnde. It comes from the people of Port Royal % but while they were Divines, and Philosophers, and Critics, and long before they became Schismatics and Fana tics. It is a little book, which you may buy upon any stall for six-pence ; while one of Tom Hearne's Monks will cost you ten or twenty shillings. Harris speaks coldly in favour of it ; but I wonder how he happened to speak in favour of it at all. He is exactly the writer you describe — now to sense, now nonsense leaning, just as Antiquity inclines him. Pray do you know Byrom's character ? or have you seen his two epistles, one a year or two ago on occasion of Sherlock's book of Prophecies, and the other just now, on Enthusiasm ? He is certainly a man of genius, plunged deep into the rankest fana ticism. His poetical epistles shew him both; which, were it not for some unaccountable negli gences in his verse and language, would shew us H 98 that he has hit upon the right style for familiar didactic epistles in verse. He is very libellous upon me;, but I forgive him heartily, for he is not male- volent, but mad. January 2d, 1751-2. LETTER XXXIX. Prior-Park, January 5th, 1751-2. I NOW persecute you with my letters. But this is written at the desire of Mr. Charles Yorke, who is now with me, to make his best compliments to you, and to let you know how sincerely he esteems you. We read over together last night your discourse on the Dram^. You cannot conceive how greatly taken he is with it. He esteems it a master piece; and, when I told him you intended to im prove it, he said you might enlarge it, but he could not see how you could much improve it. But he madfe two observations, which he desired me to qommunicate tp you ; the first in p. 79 — "Add to u this that when the imagined end," &C,. he thinks this paragraph obscure, and that the obscurity arises from your using imagined end for action : p. 95, last part-— he thinks you should illustrate the fault, you there detect, of mixing Comedy and Farce,, by the example of Moliere or Ben Jonson, or both,, 99 . who have mixed Farce more or less in almost all their best Comedies ; but those Comedies are better or Worse, according to the less or greater quantity of Farce. Moliere has some quite free, as the Tar- tuff and Misanthrope; if Jonson has any free, it is the Alchemist; Mr. Yorke thinks, the Volpone, I think not. — Sir Pol's Tortoise is farcical. LETTER XL. I HAVE your favour of the ldth. Mr. Charles Yorke,. who is much your servant, has just left us. As to Byrom's notion of enthusiasm, I agree with him in this, that it is foolish to Confine the passion to Religion, when it spreads through all human life : but I disagree With him in supposing an in tense application of the mind to any object, is en thusiasm. If I were to define it, I would say it is such an irregular exercise of it as makes us give a stronger assent to the conclusion, than the evidence of the premises will Warrant : — then reason begins to be betrayed, and then enthusia'sm properly coin- mettces. This shews Why enthusiasm is more fre quent in religious matters than in any other ; for those interests being vety momentous, the passion^ bear the greatest sway, and reason is the least heard. This, too, detects the sophism of Byrom's epistle. H 2 100 You define an epic poem (by calling it.a desperate undertaking) as Well as the Quack did a fever be fore the College of Physicians, when he called it a distemper they could not cure. My wife (whp by the way says you are a Courtier) to whom I read what you say of this 2d book *, bids me tell you, that the fresh gale you mention is very refreshing to her : that she has been so long fatigued with a variety of storms, or dead calms, in poems and ro mances, that she would give any money for a good gentle breeze. I have just received our amiable friend's letters, which are to be prefixed to his Elfrida. Nothing could be better imagined than the form into which he has put his observations. The matter is in the French mode, effleurd, but so agreeably and so sensibly conducted, that I am sure it is fitter for the publick, than a more 'profound recherche. I can give him a better picture for the illustration of his subject than L£ Brun's Slaughter of the Innocents. It is the famous Belisarius of Vandyke, at Lord Burlington's, where there is a spectator, an assistant figure, exactly for his purpose. Belisarius is sitting blind upon a bank, begging of some passengers, whp afford their assistance. A commander, as he passes by, observes this distressful scene. You see /him stop ; his casque thrown upon the ground ; his- hands folded, and, in his countenance, all the dis- * Of Brutus, Mr. Browne's epic poem. H. 101 gust at his profession, arising from his view of this miserable reverse of military glory. — With regard to the Athaliah of Racine, pray tell him that I think he will find in young Racine's life of his Fa ther a more exact account of the fate of that play, and more to his purpose. — But when I have exa mined the letters more carefully, I will communi cate what I have further to say of them to our friend himself : whom however I hope' I shall find, in a short time, in town. Apropos. I and my wife set forward for London to-morrow ; from whence 1 propose to return hither about the 1 8th of February. And I will tell you what the family are all now thinking of, — -that pos sibly I may have interest enough with you to come to London to us, and accompany us dowu hither. We have a corner in our coach for you, and one of my servants can ride your horse. I am serisible that 'your turn at Whitehall is not till Spring, and con sequently, that business may confine you much where you are : which is the reason I have marked the precise time of our return, that you may take your own time in coming to us at London, though the sooner the better : and by that time you grow tired of Prior-Park, your preaching-time may ap proach, and you will not have a great deal further to go from hence to London, than from Cambridge to London. I need not tell you, who have- seen Mr. Allen, the pleasure it will give us all if this can be done to your convenience. 102 Adieu, my dear friend ; and believe that where- ever you and I are, whether together or at a dis tance, you have a sincere friend in your faithful servant. Prior-Park, January 16th, 1751-2. LETTER XLI. , Prior-Park, March 25th, 1,752. I THANK* you for your kind letter of the. 18th. The Solicitor, I find, uses the word University, as the Romish Clergy do the word Church, to sig nify themselves, exclusive pf those who in reality make both one and the other. But you have lived in the world to a fine purpose, not to know^ that, at this very day, the Church resides at Lambeth, and the University in Lincoln's-Inn Fields. Many a good Christian is like to live and die without th?- pale of the Church ; and many a learned Academic to remain unmatrioulated. Bolingbroke's " Letters on History/' you know, I had read formerly. But it was eight or nine years ago, and I had forgot every word he had said against the Canon, as well as every word I had said for it; which made me anxious about the fate of that scrub paper which I had so foolishly scribbled; 103 and in so much hurry. But the perusal of the book has set me at rest. You will know why, when I tell you I heartily wish that all who hereafter shall be so weak or so wicked to write against Revelation, may write just like this formidable politician. I must laugh with you, as I have done with our friend Balguy, for one circumstance. His Lordship has abused the Lawyers as heartily as he has done the Clergy : only With this difference, he is angry with us for using Metaphysics, and with them for not using it. I know why. He has lost many a cause in a Court of Justice, because the Lawyers would not interpret his no facts into metaphyseal ones ; and been defeated in many an argument in conversation, because Divines would not allow that true metaphy sics ended in naturalism. I myself, who am but in my elements, a mere Ens Rationis, simply distilled, have dismounted him ere now. Nothing has pleased me more a long time than your visiting the Bishop of London and Mr. Charles Yorke, and the kind reception you met with from both. I know they both truly honour your parts and virtues. I would have you cultivate your ac quaintance with them : they are both worthy of your assiduity. They both love learning and virtue. And don't you remember the proverb — A good word tit Court is better than a penny in the purse. At Mr. Allen's desire, I acquaint you with all out motions from this time to Christmas next. From hence to that time the ffunjly will be always here 104 (where you may be sure you will be always wel come),, except in the months of June, August, and to the middle of September. The times I myself shall be absent, during that period, are from the middle of April to the latter end of June, and the month of November. LETTER XLII. THE inclosed* (so uncommon a mark of your partiality and friendship for me) must needs', you will believe, if I have any modesty^ very much confound me, and, if I have any sense, shew me what my criticisms ought to have been, not what they are. Yet for all that, what between the va nity of being praised by such a writer, and the wil lingness of lying under obligations to such a friend, I will confess my weakness in telling you how much satisfaction the groundless part of it, that which re lates to myself, gave me ; for as to the other part, which is new, solid, and perfectly well said, it will give all the world satisfaction. Your desiring to see my discourse on Plutarch made me laugh, though I should rather have blushed^ for my boasting of a thing, which yet is unfinished, thjit is, only one third part drawn out, and the other three, amongst which is the passage in ques- Dedication of the Epistle to Augustus. H. 105 tion, only planned, and the canvass of it put upon paper; and both one and the other are at Prior- Park. I will endeavour to make myself a little better understood. Amongst the several sophisms of Plutarch's comparison between Atheism and Su perstition, this is one:' where he speaks of the actual (not potential) effects of each, instead of consider ing what Atheistical and Superstitious men have ever done since there were two such characters, he only tells us what are the natural effects of two such passions in the abstract, simple, and unmixed, which they never are1 in the concrete ; and would persuade us that what such simple passions naturally pro duce, they do produce in those men in whom they are found to be the reigning passions. In this consists the sophistry; but I rather suppose he imposed unknowingly on himself, than designedly on his reader. And this I proposed to illustrate in a note by the conduct of dramatic poets, who in stead of drawing the covetous man, the extravagant man, drew simple avarice, and extravagance, un mixed ; and there being no such thing in nature, their drawings become unnatural; monsters of their own imagination, of which there are no archetypes. This is more professedly done in the two plays I named : but more or less in every writer who has given plays of character, even Moliere not excepted. When I mentioned this to you, to be taken no tice of in your discourse on the Drama, I did »t mean it for a correction of any part of it, but for -an addition ; it will not serve to make your dis- 106 course more correct, but more complete. And I think it too considerable to be omitted. I dare say you now understand my whole meaning; but if you be diffident, and yet approve the addition, it is only sending it me when you have drawn it out, and perhaps it may start new hints to me on the subject, that may make it more to your mind. You have not yet told me what time this summer we may hope to see you at Prior-Park. I gave you, by Mr. Allen's directions, the carte du pais, that you might accommodate your route to your best convenience. Bedford-Row, April 29th, 1752. LETTER XLIII. Bedford-Row, May 9th, 1752. A KIND letter I received from you this morning reminded me that I should have wrote to you before, to convey a word or two, by you, to Mr. Mason. You know how the thing stands with his Northern Lord, and you know my senti ment on it. A little after Mr. Mason had left us, Mr. Charles Yorke, who is willing to do all ob liging offices to my friends, as well as ready to do justice to merit, chanced to mention that affair. He said he had met the Earl of Rockingham ajt 107 some public place, and complimented him on his disposition to Mr. Mason, and thence took an op portunity of saying what he thought most advanta geous of him. What passed^of this kind is of little moment; only I could find by it, that all who had spoke of Mr. Mason to Lord Rockingham had nei ther been so candid nor so generous as Mr. Yorke. The thing most material is, to let Mr. Mason know Mr. Yorke's opinion of the invitation ; and I am the rather obliged to it, as Mr. Yorke's is different from mine, He thinks Mr. Mason is likely to attach that Lord's liking to .him, as he is a young noble man of elegance, arid loves music and painting. His interest too, he says, is as weighty as any great maris can be who is not likely to turn to business : and in a word thinks Mr. Mason should not refuse the offer. I said to him all on the other side I had said to Mr. Mason, and we parted like two of Tully's disputants, He seemed willing I should tell you, to acquaint your friend with what passed. It gives me great pleasure, that you have fixed your time for seeing us; and so it will all our fa mily, and you have rightly chosen the finest sea son of the year for an excursion. I am so indpf lent and so irresolute, that I remain at present under a total uncertainty whether I shall stay where I am to the middle of June, or whether I shall go ten days hence into Lincolnshire. If I do that, I shall not return to London at Trinity term ; but crosUhe country back to Prior-Park. But you shall be 108 troubled with an account of all my motions. And Mr. Towne shall know, one way or other, what you think of him. You could not do him mdre real honour than by distinguishing him from that detestable crowd of one's acquaintance who have their principles to seek, and their opinions to choose ; those^ as it pleases chance, and these, as their in terest varies. You are so much the man after my own heart, that all your sentiments give me the picture of my own mind. You say very truly, and- with admirable discern ment, of Voltaire, that not only the species* of writing is wrong and absurd, but that he has executed it poorly though speciously. His first volume, I think the best. The anecdotes in the se cond are too trifling, and the Politico-theological dissertations on Calvinism, Jansenism, .Quietism, &c. below all criticism. But they are as well re ceived by the great vulgar, as Lord Orrery's im mortal book was by the small. Yet don't mistake me. It would be a kind of literary profanation to compare the English Author to the French. Vol taire has fine parts', and is a real genius ; the other is the worst writer that ever defiled fair paper. , ¦ • I have thoughts of sending you very shortly a specimen of my volume of Sermons, to have your and Mr. Balguy's free thoughts on them. You ,prhat of writing history.in favourite detached parts ; such as the Revolutions of Vertot, and the Stfde of Louis XIV. by Vol-' ' taire. H. , 109 shall see the first four. To tell you truly, and with out affectation, I don't know what to think of them. If you think as diffidently as I do, pray tell me so, and I will make short work : for the shortest folly ' is the best. I think to send all that will be printed, which will be the four first. Two are in the. com mon way, of choosing a text to give one an oppor tunity of saying what one wants to sky : the other two are in what,1 I think, abetter, the explanation of the text. P. S. Pray tell our friend Mr. Balguy how obliged I am to him for his last kind letter, which I shall , acknowledge very soon. LETTER XLIV. 1 HE Printer would not enable me to per form my promise in sending four sermons ; and you will be tired enough with these three : besides, the fourth was only a kind of corollary of the third. Pray do you and Mr. Balguy exercise your judg ment freely on them; and, to encourage you, let me tell you I am not blind to all their faults. The first I think too superficial and in some parts (which makes superficiality ah inexcusable fault) not very clear. The last head of the second sermon, I fear, As a little cloudy. The uses in the third sermon are too short and abruptly delivered. 110 The most sensible thing Garth ever said, he said to his enemies, " that for every fault they discovered in his 'writings, he- would shew them two." I can safely say, I will shew them two hundred in mine for every single fault my enemies are ever likely to find out. — |t was odd, as you observe, that Voltaire should translate the line from Pope, as it is in the last edition. I persuaded the latter to alter Miracles to Prodigies, not only for the religion^ but the reason of the thing. It was not only declaring against Miracles, but it was arguing inconclusively : prodigies being natural effeets, whose causes we be ing ignorant of, we have made them ideal creatures of a distinct species : as soon as we come to the know ledge of the causes, prodigies are no longer a distinct species, but rank with all other natural effects. But it is no consequence that when nature, is known no miracles remain ; because miracles imply super natural effects, therefore these are consistent with the whole knowledge of nature. Yet this was one of the speciosa dictata of Bolingbroke, who was fond of the impiety, and yet did not see the blunder. Don't you remember I predicted to you what would be the fortune Of Dr. Middleton's posthu mous works, unless the town had them like their mackerel, while their mouths were just in relish ? They have not waited long ; yet Manby tells me he has not sold three hundred of the separate volume in which they are contained. And yet these are as well written as any thing he published himself, Ill LETTER XLV. I MAKE all proper abatement for the judg ment your friendship dictates. It is enough for me that a volume of these things will be just worth printing. ¦- The fifth sermon, which will be on the character and office of the Son, and the sixth, on the office and operation of the Holy Spirit, will be rather tracts, than sermons. I shall have there occasion to consider the hypothesis of Middleton about prophecy, so far as he contradicts the Bishop of London, and likewise his notion of inspiration of Scripture, and the gift of tongues on the day of Pentecost. But it will be butr^-tel quel. The seventh perhaps will be, of the nature of the Lord's Supper, in which I pretend to overthrow the prin ciples of the Plain Account, and upon his own terms, which, I think, has not yet been done.— But do you think I can be very proud of what I can do, when I read attentively, as I have oft done, your discourse of Imitation, and written at your years ! Dodsley's editors intended to fritter my discourse on Virgil's sixth Book into notes, which I could not hinder but by allowing them to transcribe it entire. But I have done like common offenders when they are taken, impeached my friends and accomplices. 112 I have discovered to them where two excellent notes are hid, on a passage in the third Georgic; which they have seized upon with great eagerness. The truth of the matter is, I suppose this edition of Virgil will be but a gallimaufry (from one concerned, in the direction of it, Spence, who is an extreme poor creature, and has met his reward, as all such do) ; and I was willing to have you in with me to keep me in countenance. Bedford-Row, May 20th, 1752. LETTER XLVI. I HAVE your favour of two kind letters to acknowledge. Though you seem to be satisfied as to the objection in p. 22 of tlie Sermons, yet I think it so well founded, that, by your leave, I shall reprint that leaf, and express myself better, if I can. The expression about Mysteries, in Pope's worksj was a wanton flourish, alluding to the Popish doc-. trines, and so Mr. Pope understood it. But I find, how foolish it was, since it has given a handle to my scribblers, which I did not know till you told me. The purpose of the second sermon was only to evince God's moral government against one objec tion, a very foolish one, but a very fashionable, the. 113 immensity of the universe. I argued indeed more largely towards the end of it,, and broke into #ie unity of the design. And the discourse is not the better for it. I have gOt your Dissertation, which has afforded me vast pleasure. All the additions and improve ments are truly excellent. The absurd sophistry of Fontenelle is delicately and solidly unravelled. And your whole design is complete, nor have I Jfny idea of its being made more perfect. Query^ whether in your discourse of. the folly of drawing passions, in Comedy,, instead of characters^ you should not, or could not, find occasion to say, that one purpose of the observation; was to prevent men's carrying your preference of plays of character to plays of intrigue into an extreme ? for it is cer tain that this just fondness for plays of character led some great writers into this mistake. As to what you say of my feathers, I haver reason- indeed to be proud of them, now I see them fabri cated; but it is that kind of pride, in which the- Vulcans of the Staffordshire forges exult, when theyt see their iron-ore transformed into those beautifully: painted and enamelled and gilded utensils, made at Birmingham, for the cabinets of the curious. In short, I can't tell you how greatly I admire all your additions and improvements. And the sooner you send it to the press the better. But you was made for higher things: and my greatest pleasure, is, that you give ine a hint,, you, axd 114 impatient to pursue them. What will not such a capacity and such a pen do, either to shame or to improve a miserable age ! The Church, like the Ark of Noah, is worth saving ; not for the sake of the unclean beasts and vermin that almost filled it, and probably made most noise and clamour in it, but for the little corner of rationality, that was as much distressed by the stink within, as by the tem pest without. I have read over Chap. III. again and again, and find still new beauties in it. What you say of the sameness of character, which politeness makes in courts, is admirable — nothing but the strong play of the passions, as you well express it, can strip off the disguise. — By the way, is not this a new reason, even for the sake of character, for action's being the principal object of Tragedy ? There are some fine strokes of raillery which please me much : and nothing can be more apropos than your concluding quotation. — I will conceal no weakness of mine from you. I will own I am proud to be commended by such a writer. And I ought riot to be grudged this vanity ; for I make myself but amends for the mortification you iriake me suffer in seeing so many excellencies united in a young author, that old ones labour after in vain. I leave the town for Prior Park on Monday, but have taken care to have your papers re-conveyed to you by the same way they came. With them, I have put. up a thing of my own, without either headj 115 or tail ; that is to say, part of my discourse on the mysteries in the new edition, only to give you a specimen of the edition. You may bring it with you when you come to u&. Only, if I should want it before, I will let you know. Bedford-Row, June 13th, 1152. LETTER XLVII. Prior-Park, July 5th, 1752. I AM glad you received your papers back safe. What came into my head since concerning them, Was only this. — I think you have taken no tice of the famous Characters of Theophrastus, where passions and not men are coloured. Pray would an observation something like this be worth the making ? — Dramatic poets would be likely to justify the fault you condemn by the example of that great master. But you may say it would be by the same indiscretion, a painter would be guilty of, who should employ the excellent colours he finds upon the pallet of a great master, in the same state they lie there, simple and unmixed, and without compounding, to fit them for that infinite variety of shades and tints, requisite for the expression of existing nature. i 2 116 I am glad you don't dislike my improvements of the Divine Legation. With regard to which I will tell you an anecdote, that, however, for aught I know, I have told you before. But it is no grea\ matter if I have. When the London Clergy pre tended to be alarmed, and took fire at the Divine Legation, and were encouraged in their violence by Potter, the late Archbishop (who however had the meanness, when I expostulated the matter with him, to deny every^ thing) ; he and they had en deavoured to persuade certain persons of great name for learning, with them, (amongst the rest one, who had been a little before in a controversy with Middleton, about his letter to Waterland,) to write against my book. They gave out they had engaged these considerable hands in this service, who were to demolish the book. On which I resolved to be prepared for them (who, by the way, thought better of it), and give it the severest examination myself. I set about this work with great care. I deteeted (which I dare say you will think I was best able to, M xlo) all the weak parts of it. , I shewed no mercy tp them ; and then endeavoured to defend them, the best I could. I went through the work, and com mitted it to paper ; which, I though^ I should soon have use enough of. But what do you think was the tissue? In the first place, as I said, these heroes of literature refused to be engaged. But, in their stead, there was an army of volunteers. My busi ness with these was merely curiosity. I wanted to H7 see if any of them had hit upon the weak parts, I had been with so much pains providing for. And I can assure you, that not one of them has been yet found out by my enemies; and do yet remain a secret .between God, my conscience, and my friends. By my friends, I mean all those men of true learn ings who, without doubt, see them as well as I do ; but for the sake of other things, which if not well executed, they have the candour to believe well in tended, think ought to be pardoned, and not objected to a fallible author. You talk of Jackson's Chronology, on which oce^sion ypu quote a line of Mr. Pope, which he would have envied you the application of; and would certainly have drawn a new character of a diving Antiquarian, for the pleasure of applying this line to him. As for Jackson, you would hardly think (after what had passed between us) that all his account of the mysteries should be one entire theft from me, a transcript of my account, without one word of acknowledgment : for which I shall make him all due acknowledgments in a note. The wretch has spent his days in the republic of letters, just as your vagabonds do in the streets of London, in one unvaried course of begging, railing, and stealing. The Bishop of Exeter's book against the Methodr ists is, I think, on the whole, composed well enough (though it be a bad copy of Stillingfleet's famous book of the Fanaticism of the Church of 118 Rome) to do the execution he intended. — In push ing the Methodists, to make them like every thing that is bad, he compares their fanaticism to the ancient mysteries ; but as the mysteries, if they had ever been good, were not, in the Bishop's opi nion, bad enough for this purpose, he therefore endeavours to shew, against me, that they were abominations even from the beginning. As this contradicts all antiquity so evidently, I thought it would be ridiculous in. me to take any notice of him. Our excellent friend, Mr. Charles Yorke, es caped* narrowly with his life. This makes me think all the rest a trifle: though he has lost (together with excellent chambers of his own) an excellent library, and, what is irreparable, all the state papers of his great uncle Lord Somers, in thirty or forty volumes in folio, full of very material things for the history of those times ; which I speak upon my own knowledge. Poor Forster (whom I have just received a letter from) is overwhelmed with desolation for the loss of his master. I quoted his case to our friend Balguy for his consolation. But you say — / 11AU. have no master — which, I confess, is the best con solation of all. — Reckon upon it, that Durham goes to some Noble Ecclesiastic. 'Tis a morsel only for them. Our Grandees have at last found their way back into the Church. I only wonder they have * From a fire at Lincoln's Inn. H, 119 been so long about it. But be assured that nothing but a new religious revolution, to sweep away the fragments that Harry the VHIth left, after ban queting his courtiers,, will drive them out again. The Church has been of old the cradle and the throne of the younger Nobility. And this nursing- mother will, I hope, once more vie With old impe rious Berecyrithia — Laeta Deum partu, centum compiexa Nepotes, Omnes Coelicolas, omnes supera alia tenentes. You mention Noah's Ark. I have really for got what I said of it. But I suppose I compared the Church to it, as many a grave Divine has done before me. — The Rabbins make the giant Gog or Magog contemporary with Noah, and convinced by his preaching. So that he was disposed to take the benefit of the Ark. But here lay the distress ; it by no means suited his dimensions. Therefore, as he could not enter in, he contented himself to ride upon it astride. And though you must suppose that, in that stormy weather, he was more than half-boots over, he kept his seat, and dismounted safely, when the Ark landed on Mount Ararat. Image now to yourself this illustrious Cavalier mounted on his hackney : and see if it does not bring before you the Church, bestrid by some lumpish minister of state, who turns and winds it at his pleasure. The only difference is, that Gog be lieved the preacher of righteousness and religion, I am, &c. 120 LETTER XLVIII. YOUR interpretation of Hos jwxta, r&c,* is very ingenious : it is more natural, it is more of a piece, in short I like it better than my own. Bu| here lies the difficulty. You go upon the principle of making a corrupt sentence confirmed. But how could that be said to be confirmed, which was re heard, and set to rights ? Nee veno ha? sine sorte datce, 8$c. But this is not the worst. Vkgil does not re present these damnati as stationed (like the infan tum animce and the moesti insontes), by a judgment already past upon them ; but as then a-judging, when ^Eneas passed by. Quaesitor Minos urnam movet; ille silentum Consiliumque vocat, vitasque et crimina disci*. And therefore by hos sedes I do not understand these seats in purgatory (which would indeed imply they were stationed), but the various seats in the infernal regions, of reward or punishment. You will say, if this were the case, they are strangely jumbled in between the Infants and the Suicides, who are both doomed and stationed. And so say I. This Smells of an unfinished Poem; and, had he * See Bivine Legation, Book 2, Sect. 4, p: 271, 4t0 edition. H. 121 lived to give it his last ' hand, he would have placed them? I suspect—; partes ubi se viafindit in umbras, fyc. These were my thoughts of this passage on my first commenting on this Sixth Book s and these led me to what I thought the poet hinted at in the Gorgias. And I the rather thpught he had it in his eye both, because the fable was a celebrated one, and because he has Plato all the way much in his eye. But here is the difference between yottr in terpretation and mine: yours makes this circum stance of more importance, and more of a piece with the genius of his work, by making it apolitical lesson; mine only a poetical embellishment of a' celebrated fable of antiquity : in short, yours is to be preferred, if you can fairly account, on the prin ciples of it, for Minos and his urn. At present, as he is only busied about these delinquents, I cannot but think that Virgil describes him as he was em ployed by Plato. At your leisure you will consider of it. And whether we agree upon yours or mine, I find I shall have occasion to make some alterations, which this rude shock of an objection has given to my crazy system of the Darnnati. Had this volume of the Divine Legation been now to write, it would have been another sort of thing, with your assistance. But as I say this only out of my passion for the advancement of real knowledge, I have sufficient amends in the thoughts that you persist in your resolution to turn your parts and learning to the 122 , /study of the great truths of religion. On which head, I shall use the words of Mr. Pope to me, and I hope with more influence, and success— r iterumque iterumque monebo. The inclosed scrap of paper is for our friend Mr. .Mason. I promised it to him. It seems to, be the heads of a discourse on the birth and genealogy of English poetry. It is in Mr. Pope's own hand; but'i seems to want a poetical decypherer to make any thing of it. , You are a„very cpurtly man to make apologies for your favours ; and for favours I most value, the hearing frequently from you. Be confident of my constant love and affection. For you are the man after my own heart. ¦'- Prior-Park; July 18th, 1752. LETTER XLIX. Weymouth, Dorsetshire, August 11th, 1752... 1HE Goths and Vandals of a Court have driven me from the Muses to the Sea Nymphs. ; whose favours I here court every morning ; but ah- stain from this profane commerce, like a good, Christian Priest, on Sundays. 123 But the house is now again disburthened of its princely honours*; and I should return thither before the family, but that. Mr. Charles Yorke has, -mal a propos, sent me word he would come down to me, -so that whether I can get from hence be fore the family is very uncertain. They return before Michaelmas, and all of us with the pleasing expectation of your performance of your promise. But you shall hear more precisely the day of our return. I have been tossed about, like the poor Britpns in Gildas, from the sea to the ^Saxons, and from the Saxons to the sea. I expect my amends in your visit. I think your reading of the two lines, Hosjuxta, &c. very fine, and almost envy you for it. I am pleased with your attendance on the Assizes, and to see truth and justice kiss each other, though it be a parting kiss ; and you was to be succeeded by Chicane. However, I -hope the worthy Sheriff will take care, with the assistance of the grand jury, to get the impression of this kiss. Pray how is Kit Nevil in his health and spirits ? He partakes -of the one brother's vivacity, and the other's phlegm, with a better understanding, I think, than either. All this together makes a very singular composi tion, and used to subject him to many inequalities, * Mr. Allen had lent his house, at Prior-Park, to Princess Amelia; who was there some weeks to drink the Bath waters. H. 124 amongst which however his virtue and his honour distinguished him ever, from the country squires he chose sometimes to converse with, to the neglect ©f better company, and whom he more esteemed ; I mean the clergy of Grantham, with some of whom he had been bred from his infancy; and who, I believe, thought themselves a little neglected by him sipce I left the country : for while I was theye, I brought them frequently together, as a middle term. In a word, \ esteem and honour him, and cant but be pleased at his kind resentment of my friendly endeavours to serve and oblige him. Frank Barnard is a man of unusual honour and sentiments of friendship in his commerce of the world. LETTER L. Bedford-Raw, December 15th, 115%, MY DEAREST FRIEND, FOR so you would be to me even for your vow's soke, and without our personal attachment? I could not leave this place, without acknowledging your kind letter of the 5th. I kept here longer than, you imagined ; but my coming late, the change of the stile, and a very bad cold, which has kept me long confined and physicked, have thrown me later 125 into December before my return, than you might reasonably imagine. But I propose setting out for Prior-Park to-morrow. Your good wishes for me are Very kind : and your sense of the times, much juster than you yourself imagine. Should I tell you my usage through life, and yet my acquaintance in the great world has been only with those of whom the publick has spoke highest, I should astonish you. The small specimen I gave you was but a paltry one, in comparison. You shall know the whole one day or other. For I should be sorry to go out of the world, and leave you in it, ignorant of this part of my history. And yet, I will assure you, I deserved other usage ; as one of your penetration will the easier credit from this cir cumstance, that though several of the actors, or . rather no actors, of course know several parts, yet the whple of this curious history is unknown to all mankind but myself; and I could wish, but for the reason above, that I myself could forget it. At the same time I am sensible enough how much what we call chance governs in the affairs of the world ; that is, things falling out besides the inten tion of the actors ; and therefore sufferers are gene rally apt to ascribe more to injustice than they ought. You have heard your Diocesan is disgraced. I speak the Court-dartguage, where it is the mark of want of grace, to be ill with the Minister; who says the Bishop wanted gratitude : and that I take tp be as damnable a want as the other. However, 126 the great man takes shame upon himself for being v so deceived in his choice. The Bishop is allowed; however, by all parties at Court, to be an ingenious man. And it is a thousand to one the ingratitude, whatever there was in it, will be thrown upon that : and better care taken another time. But do you guess how it will be repaired ; I, who am in no Court secrets, but by the mere divination, of a critic, can tell you — to give the next Bishoprick to one who has no ingenuity at all : instead of effectually pre venting the danger of ingratitude by promoting and attaching a man of real merit ; whom the nature of things no more suffers to be ungrateful, than it per mits the elements to change. their qualities. But Princes pick off from dunghills the curiosities for their cabinets, and then complain of being bewrayed. ¦ '< Thus does the order of things punish that bad judg ment which arises from a worse heart. Your account of old Bishop Hall is curious and fine ; and, from what I have read of his Satires, I dare say, true. Your account of your labouring through poor Birch * made me smile. I will assure you he has here done his best, and topt his part. As to the Archbishop, he was certainly a virtuous, pious, hu mane, and moderate man ; which last quality was a kind of rarity in those times. His notions of civil society were but confused and imperfect, as appears in the affair of Lord Russel. As to religion, he was * His life of Archbishop Tillotson. H. 127 amongst the class of latitudinarian divines. I ad mire his preserving his moderation* in all times, more than his refusing the Archbishoprick at the time of his decay, and after a stroke of an apoplexy, and when he had the large revenue of the Deanry of St. Paul's, and when the Archiepiseopal promotion, he knew, would "expose him to infinite abuse. But What I admire most was, his beneficence and gene rosity, and contempt of wealth. But see the im perfection of humanity. That moderation, coolness, and prudence (which you guessed right is held in the highest admiration by the person you wot of— Tillptson is indeed his hero) ; this turn, I say, which made him so placable an enemy, made him but a cold or indifferent friend ; as you may see, in part, ^by that exceeding simple narrative of Beardmore (I use simple- in the best sense); for so imperfect are we, as I say, that the human mind can with difficulty have that warmth of friendship kindled in it (which, after all, is what makes a two-legged ani mal deserve the name of man), but the same heat will prove noxious to others. So that you see, , if Tillotson was defective in this, I lay the blame not upon him, but upon corrupt humanity. As a preacher, I suppose his established fame is chiefly owing to his being the first City-divine who talked rationally and wrote purely. I think the sermons published ip his life-time are fine moral discourses. They bear indeed the character of their author, sim ple, elegant, candid, clear, and rational; No Orator 128 in the Greek and Roman sense of the word, like Taylor: nor a discourser in their sense, like Bar row* ; free from their irregularities, but not able to reach their heights. On which account I prefer them infinitely to him. You cannot sleep with Taylor; you cannot forbear thinking with Barrow. But you may be much at your ease in the midst of a long lecture from Tillotson ; clear, and rational, and equable as he is. Perhaps the last quality may account for it. The length of this, is to shew you what sincere pleasure I take in yours. I own it is giving yon a severe proof of it, but I judge of you by myseE And I think we have minds (as I am sure we have hearts) so attuned, that we can't well be mistaken in one another.— Be so good, at any time before youj- eome up in Spring, to call on Tom Warburton. There are some shillings due to him from me. Ha laid down some money for my nephew when he * Taylor- -Barrow] In another Letter to me, not contained in this Collection, Mr. Warburton expresses his sentiments of these two eminent persons in the following manner — " Taylor " and Barrow are incomparably the greatest preachers and di- " vines- of their age. . But my preffleetion is for Taylor. Hfr " has all the abundance and solidity of the other, with a ray of " lightening of his own, which, if he did not derive it front De- " mosthenes and Tully, has, at least, as generous and noble an " original. It is true, they are both incompti, or rather exube- , " rant. But it is for such little writers as the Preacher of Lin- " coin's Inn [himself] to hid© their barrenness by the finicalnes* "of culture." H. 129 took his degree, and I sent him a bank note for it. But the odd money remains unpaid, which I beg you to pay him for me. It is just now in my head, which is the reason of this mention, least I should quite forget it. LETTER LI. Prior-Park, January 15 th, 1753* I RECEIVED your obliging letter of the 12th, and am very sorry to understand (and so is the rest of the family) that you have been some time out of order. Take care of your health. We are all interested in it. I sometimes suspected, in your pleasant account of your Cambridge declaimers, that you only flat tered me in relating this strange stuff: and tiiat, in pity to me, you kept back some substantial objec tions of your formidable Censors. Sometimes again, I fancied it a piece of waggery of yours and our friends, to make me laugh. If the thing be real, and there be sueh an ob jector, all I can say is, that no Grub-street Garret ever whelpt so stupendous a dunce. As to subtiities and - refinements, if an ass could speak, he would call rose-leaves such, that pass over his palate un- felt; while he was at his substantial diet of good brown thistles. K 130 By the African torrent*, 1 did not mean their Syrtes, but, a torrent of words ; and, in such a , one, I hope, there may be thoughts and expressions. And it is a little hard not to let me tell how, they were modified and circumstanced. — The words that nobody ever heard of, I believe, were all naturalized before he and I were born. — He is for a natural model of eloquence. There have indeed been block heads before him, but will hardly be any after him, who thought words natural, and not artificial. But as that is now given up, and terms are owned to be arbitrary, it seems no very bold matter to say all their combinations are so too. — Page 199, I say, " Every language consists of two distinct parts, the " single terms and the phrases and idioms." My subject required me here to speak of the distinct parts : there are but tivo : for the inflections of sin gle terms, according to grammatical congruity, are no more distinct from the terms, than a cat in a hole is distinct from a cat out of a hole. I only mention this to shew, I do not write at random. In a -word, if these wonderful objections really come from our Athens, be of good cheer, the Goths and Vandals, let them return when they will, can never hurt you. I would not willingly be se rious on so despicable a subject ; for the least reflec tion would be enough to make one melancholy, to. * The passage criticised by the Cambridge Censors, and here so well defended, may be found ill page 583, vol. lVth of his Works, 4to,. 1788. H. 131 see so miserable a spirit of malignity take possession of the seat of learning, — of the breasts of candidates for, or perhaps members of, the sacred Ministry. And against whom ? One of the same profession ; one who has no other view in writing than to pro mote the common cause of Christianity ; and who, as a man, never missed one opportunity of speaking well of and recommending rising merit to his bet ters, how much a stranger soever, and of whatso ever party or religion ; — to his betters, I say, of whom he never asked any thing for himself. You will think I am heated. You are mistaken. Or, if I be moved, it is only in conipassion to such miserable tempers. I now cease to wonder, my dear friend, at what you said in a letter or two ago, of your inclination to escape to your Little Zoar. Take my word, the exterminating Angel is gone out, I mean the angel of dulness, who is ready to pour his vials into the waters of Cam. — But he can not do any thing till thou be come thither. I propose leaving this- place for London next Monday. . The family will come to me the begin ning of March : at the meeting you will much con sole them in a strange place, as they always reckon London to be. Mr. Charles Yorke spent the Christmas with us. I read to him your fine account of Bishop Hall, which pleased him extremely. ¦a. 2 132 LETTER LII. April 5th, 1753. I HAVE your kind letter, arid am glad to find the country air has restored you to yourself. Your account of Lowth's book is very curious. I will cast an eye on some of the chapters, when I have leisure ; and may possibly return some of his favours. I should be sorry that a newspaper should tell you, before I can do it, of Lord Chancellor's favour to me ; which receives its value from the very polite manner of doing it. Last Sunday he sent me a message, with the offer of a prebend of Gloucester' as a mark of his regard, and wishes that it had been better. I desired Mr. Charles Yorke to tell him, that no favours from such a hand could be unaccept able. He said, he always had it in his intention ; though he said no more of his design, than I did of any expectation or desire. — I said, I should be sorry that a friend who interests himself so much as you do in what concerns me, should hear of the Chancellor's kindness to me first from a newspaper. But enough cf this : which is only considerable to me from the very obliging manner of conferring the favour, though I believe it is the best prebend he has to give. 133 LETTER LIH. I RECEIVED this evening your most kind present of the Commentary on Horace. All writers flatter themselves with posterity and a name. And the luxury of this imagination I have seen, and now I feel, is infinitely heightened by going down to it inseparably with some bosom friend. All have talked of it with pleasure, and every ho nest man, I dare say, has felt it with more. So it is natural ; therefore, why should not I indulge it ? And though it be a common boast, why should riot I make it, when you have given me so generous, so friendly, and so noble an occasion ? And, I can assure you, my perfect consciousness of not deserv ing any thing you say in my favour, makes no abatement of my pleasure, because it shews, iii the same proportion, the greatness of your af fection for me, which gives me the greatest pleasure. Your reflections on poor Law please me for your own sake. They shew such a state of mind as puts your happiness out of Fortune's power ; and would force me to love you for it, though you had no other claim to my affection. But what are fifty years to a man whose studies have never been occu- 134 pied upon man ; the only study from whence true wisdom is to be got ? For, " Whether in Metaphysics at a loss, " Or wandering in a wilderness of moss," v 'tis pretty much the same, for all improvements in life. Hence, in his speculations, this poor man has been hurried from extreme to extreme. One while persecuting Dr. Middleton, at another time writing Theses ten times more licentious and paradoxical than the Doctor's,— -And now at fifty ! what a mi serable thing, to have his head turned about a Mas tership : of which, by the way, he is not half so fit as Sancho Panca was for his government. In- two or three days I shall set out either for Prior-Park, or Gloucester. Don't you laugh when I mention Gloucester ? Birch introduced the direc tions he gave me about taking possession, &c. not amiss. He said, it was so long since I had any preferment, that I must have forgot all the forma lities of the law. There was another thing he did riot dream of, that it is so long since I had occasion to enquire about the formalities, that I am become very indifferent to the things themselves. You shall hear of my motions when I have made them, In the mean time you will do me the justice to believe, that I am at all times,, and with all affec-. tion, yours. Accept my sincerest acknowledgments for the' honour you have done me, which I set a higher value upon than any our superiors can give j and believe me to be, &c, 135 LETTER LIV. I HAVE just got Bolingbroke's three Tracts. The letter to Mr. Pope is a kind of common-place (and a poor one) of freethinking objections and disinge- nuity. When you have read it, you will see for what reason I published the first Sermon on the Nature and Condition of Truth. Which I think obviates every thing material in that letter. There is a remarkable paragraph, beginning, If you con tinue still [bottom of page 52l] to — carry him very evidently, — [towards the bottom of page" 522] which will be explained by what I have told you of his great jealousy of my taking Pope out of his hands, by my Commentary on the great principle of the Essay, the following Nature and Nature's God, YoU see he passes a solemn condemnation on the disturbers of the Religion of one's country. Whe ther the editors published this introductory letter out of stupidity, or whether it was to excuse them selves for not giving the horrid impieties which follow, and not only contradict this principle, but that other of pretending to believe the Gospel, is yet a secret. Another .thing pleases me in this letter. It is a full confutation of that invidious report, that Pope had his Philosophy from Bolingbroke, and 136 only turned his prose letters into verse. For here it appears that the Essay on Man was published be fore Bolingbroke composed his first philosophical epistle. — In a word, if it was not for the very cu rious and well-written letter to Sir William Wind ham, this letter to Pope would be received with great neglect. So far for this pigmy giant. I have lately been much better employed in considering the many important improvements in your Commen tary. As to the Discourse before the second vo lume, had it not been addressed to me, I had many things to say ;' and should have thought it the best piece of composition I had ever seen in any lan guage. I write this under a great deal of pain of the gravel ; and yet I propose going in two or three days to Gloucester : where a letter directed for the Rev. Mr. Warburton at Gloucester, will very readily find me. Mr. Allen, Mrs. Allen, my wife, and all the family, desire I would tell you of their most affectionate remembrance. Prior-Park, April 29th, 1753. P. S. I have looked over the letter to Sir William Windham. It is castrated of one of its most curious anecdotes. The State of the Nation is a true re presentation ; and well explained. He rightly dates our miseries from the bad peace of Utrecht, and our engagement in the late war. But there is more than ordinary impudence in this : as he himself 137 contributed as much or more than any one man, tp both. To the first, in capacity of Tory-minister, who managed the whole transaction : to the other, as conductor (out of the house) of that opposition which drove Walpole into a war (in order to ruin him), by espousing the cause of the Merchants' contraband trade. LETTER LV. .'I... Prior-Park. I RECEIVED your kind letter at Glouces ter, than which nothing cOuld be more Welcome, except yourself: though, had you made me so happy, I could have more easily supplied you with a pulpit than a bed. By which you may under stand, in how much better a state that Church is, as to its spirituals than its temporals. I found the Chapter in a dead calm, which hath succeeded a storm, that ended with the late Bishop's life : to whom two of the Canons had appealed, _ as Visitor, against the encroaching power of the Dean. There was in the Dean's conduct, as in Sir Ro ger's picture on the sign-post, some features of ferocity, and a small mixture of the Saracen with the good Christian churchman. The Visitor de cided in favour of the appellants, and suspended 138 the refractory Dean for contempt. So far all went well. But the Bishop, who affected to incorporate the two most inconsistent characters in all nature, the Disciplinarian and the fine gentleman^, the man of manners and candour (you will not ask another proof of his being a weak man), in order to temper the severity of his sentence, carried the several pieces of the process, himself, to the Dean, instead of sending them by the proper officers- Which the other most uncivilly took the advantage of, to carry them into Westminster-hall. The Law is eternal. But we poor mortals have an end: and, with it, all our miseries ; of which a law-suit is not the least. The Bishop dies, and a calm ensues. But, if it had pleased Providence, we might have had it at a less expence,. than the death of an honest man. The devil of discord had gone out into, I don't know how many, of the Cathedral churches, and set the Canons against their Dean : but having of late had business at Court, he left them to their own inventions. So that, peace every where presently returned, and, in most places, on easier terms than we have got this respite from law and contention. For 'tis only a respite : the two parties yet breathe, war and defiance. And here tell me, you to whom human nature has no disguise which you cannot penetrate, the reason of this strange phenomenon, that when our good Dean, a venerable old gentleman of 78, is become quite satiated with civil potver1, he should be still, 139 fonder and fonder of ecclesiastical. A day or two before I left Gloucester, he came to me, and with much earnestness begged that, when I got to town, I would solicit the Chancellor to strike him out of the commission of the peace ; for that his age and infirmities made him. utterly incapable of dis charging the duty. Must there not be some secret charm in Church-power, of which you and I are ignorant, and consequently unworthy to partici pate of their mysteries ? Amidst these high Cathedral matters, your ex cellent Charity-sermon came to hand. Amongst many admirable observations, you will believe, what pleased me most was your just reproof of those who discover no serious sentiments of our holy religion; I will not say, in their lives, but even in their conversations ; and can talk of the wretched state of it amongst their friends and countrymen with the same phlegm and indiffer ence that they speak of the broken power of the States of Holland. You speak my mind so much in all you say, and my soul in all you think, that I shall know where to have recourse for my lost ideas, as time and age deprive me of them. So that my first wish would be to have you always near me and at hand : as my second is, to be always in your thoughts, and to have as large a share in your esteem as, in conscience, you can allow to my infirmities, 140 I shall set forward to London on Tuesday. The family left this place for Weymouth last Thursday ; all but my wife, who would needs stay with me these few days ; and then, like a fashion able man and wife (she bids me tell you), we start out together East and West. She bids me say a great deal more, which you shall guess at, though her sincerity deserves better than that' her speeches should be dismissed unrepeated into the land of compliments, where all things are forgot ten. Pray let me know particularly and exactly the present state of your health, and what your Physician says of the Bath or sea waters. And if they be needless, and your health well restored, then, what you yourself say of the next favour you intend Mr. Allen, who warmly loves and esteems you. You cannot do him, that is, nobody can do him, a greater pleasure. Your judgment, as usual, is very exact and can- did concerning Blackwellls book. He ends every piece of adulation with this formula — Accept this from a man untaught to flatter. What would he have done, had he had a regular education at Court, who does so well, crassd Minervd ? Remember me kindly to Mr. Balguy ; and con tinue to love, &c. June 10th, 1753. 141 LETTER LVI. JLAST Wednesday I took the liberty of send ing you a small packet by the carrier; and yesterday I received a very kind letter from you. I am glad your Chancellor has made his vjsit so much to the satisfaction of all. So that I suppose now the only contention will be, who first shall strip and get in, after the stirring of the pool. What you said to Mr. J. Y. was very obliging. You was not mistaken in the inference drawn from Caryl's intelligence about Lord Nottingham and Cudworth. I am sorry to find you are not yet reinstated in your health, and that Cambridge and the environs will detain you this Summer. But shall we not see you about October next at Prior-Park ? As to the history of the Long Parliament, the principal authors are, " May's History of the Parlia ment,'' which only reaches to the time of the self- denying ordinance, Clarendon, Whitlock, Ludlow, Rushworth's Collections, and Walker's History of Independency. The first is an extraordinary per formance; little known ; written with great temper, good sense, and spirit — has the qualities of a regular composition, which neither Ludlow nor Whitlock have ; the first of whom is a mad repub lican, the other, a low-spirited lawyer. 142 Your character 'of Grotius is perfectly just, in every part of it. The following is a transcript from a letter I received from a very worthy person, altogether a stranger to you : " The dedication to Horace's Ep. " ad Augustum is worthy the patron, the author, " and the piece. The best in its kind that was «' ever published, at least that I have met with. I " thought so of the Art of Poetry when it was first " published. I am only sorry (such is my temper, " pe haps too much chagrined by the prospects and " manners of the times) to see a writer of so much " learning and ingenuity employing his time on the " laws of human poetry, when the divine lyre is " almost silenced, when the great moralities, the "' measures of duty, and the distinctions between " the true and false in real life, seem to be dissolved " or dissolving amongst us. A true taste, it must " be confessed, is wanting ; but far more a true " faith." — It would, I dare say, give this honest man great pleasure to know that you are exactly in the same sentiments concerning the condition of the times, and their need of a speedy remedy. , Our friend, little Browne, seems to have been no less pleased with the observation I commutii-*'' cated to him on poor Law's folly. " Mr. Hurd's "remark was like the man it came from: like a " man who sees by an early penetration that which " the^generality never find out till they have drudged " on to the -end of life. I assure you, you -cannolf. 143 " love and esteem him more than I do. I think " him amongst the first rank of men on every "account." Browne never said or writ any thino- that gave me a better opinion of his sense. It may be just worth while to tell you, before I conclude, that the small edition of Pope, which I sent you, is the correctest of all; and I was willing you should always see the best of me. It was on the same account I sent the first part of the first volume of the Divine Legation, just done at the press. Bedford-Row, June 30th, 1153. LETTER LVII. Mr. HURD to Mr. WARBURTON. Cambridge, July 2d, 1753. REV. SIR, I TROUBLED you the other day with a long letter, the main purpose of which was to draw from you some instructions on a point or two in our history. — Since that I have received your very kind present of the small edition of .Pope's works, to gether with the first part of the Divine Legation. I give you my entire thanks for both. Though my 144 v curiosity had not suffered me to neglect comparing the second edition of Pope in 8vo, with the first, which you gave ine ; and I had transcribed into it the most material corrections and alterations. But this smaller set is most acceptable to me, both for its being a proof of your kind remembrance of me, and also for the neatness and convenient size of the volume, so proper for that constant pocket use, which such a Poet improved by such a Critic deserves. For the Divine Legation, I take it most kindly that you give me the pleasure of sharing in the im provements of this new edition so early. I am glad to find them so large as to cause a division of the first volume into two parts. But of these I shall say no more till I have taken time to consider them, which, with my first convenience, I mean to do with all possible attention. In one of the blank pages I found two friendly words, of which I will only say, they give me a pleasure superior to the little movements and self-gratulations of vanity. , Amongst the alterations in Pope, I find you have softened what was said of Hutcheson. I believe you did this to gratify my partiality to that writer, though when I understood how unworthily he had treated you, I was sorry for having troubled you with one word about him. — This experience (and it is net the first I have had) of your readiness to make alterations on such hints as mine, will for the future make me very careful how I presume to give theiuj . 145 I forbear to trouble you any further. Only, with my best thanks, believe me, REV. SIR, Your very obliged and affectionate humble Servant, R. HURD. LETTER LVIII. Bedford-Row, July 9th, 1753. I RECEIVED your kind letter of the 2d, and could not leave the town without making you my acknowledgments for it. I thought to have stayed some little time longer ; but the weather grows so intolerably hot, and the town so thin, that there is no longer living in an atmosphere where the pabulum vita; grows so unfit both for moral and natural respiration. The only remains of taste, amongst the great, seemed to be in their pleasures : and yet, in that, they appear now to be forsaken of common sense. I dined the other day with a lady of quality, who told me she was going, that evening, to see the finest fireworks ! at Marybone. I said fireworks was a very odd re freshment for this sultry weather: that, indeed, Cuper's Gardens had been once famous for this 146 summer entertainment; but then his fireworks were so well understood, and conducted with so superior an understanding, that they never made their appearance to the company till they had been well, cooled by being drawn through a long canal of water, with the same kind of refinement that the Eastern people smoke their tobacco through the same medium. I forgot whether I mentioned, in- my last, Walker's History of Independency. It is written in a rambling way, arid with a vindictive Presby terian spirit, full of bitterness ; but it gives you an admirable idea of the character of the times^ par ties, and persons. There is little or nothing in that enormous collection of Thurloe worth notice. Rushworth is full of curiosities ; Nalspn is worth turning over. Whitlock, that has been so much cried up, is a meagre diary, wrote by a poor spi rited/ self-interested and self- conceited lawyer of eminence ; but full of facts. In May's admirable History you have, as I told you, the History of the Parliament while the Presbyterians continued up permost. If you would know the facts of Fairfax and his Independent army, till the reduction of Oxford and the King, you will find them in Sprigge's Anglia rediviva. But you must not expect to find in this Parliament-Historian, the moderation, sense, and composition of the other. But it is worth reading. And Walker tells us it was not Fairfax's Chaplain Sprigge, but Colonel 147 Fiennes who composed it. There is, at the end, a curious list of all Oliver's commanders, even to the subalterns. I remember I desired you to pay my Cousin Warburton some shillings for me. I know you did so. But I think I shamefully forgot to repay you. Don't you forget to let me know what it was. I am just setting out for Lincolnshire, where I shall stay about eight or ten days, and so return cross the country home. Wherever I am, you have the most affectionate friend, &e. LETTER LIX. Prior-Park, August 16th, 1753. I AM vexed, as well as you, at the misear* riagte of the letter*. For though I donyt know what I said in it, yet I know with what freedom I say every thing to you. As I am uncertain what you have received in answer to your query, I shall give you all I have to say upon it; over again. * The ietter here supposed to have been lost, but which camfe to my hands afterwards, was, that of the 30th of June, inserted in its place. H, L2 148 In studying this period, the most important, the most -wonderful in all history,. I suppose you will make Lord Clarendon's incomparable performance your ground-work. I think it will be understood to advantage by reading, as an introduction to it, Rapiris reign of James I. and the first 14 years of Charles I. After this will follow Whitlocks Memoirs. It is only a journal or diary, very ample and full of important matters. The writer was learned in his own profession ; thought largely in religion, by the advantage of his friendship with Selden: for the rest he is vain and pedantic ; and, on the whole, a little genius. Ludlow's Memoirs, as to its composition, is below criticism ; as to the matter, curious enough. With what spirit written, you may judge by his character, which was that of a furious, mad, but I think, apparently honest, Republican, and inde pendent. May's History of the Parliament is a just composition, according to the rules of history. It is written with much judgment, penetration, man liness, and spirit; and with a candour that will greatly increase your esteem, when yon understand that he wrote by order of his masters, the Par liament. It breaks off (much to the loss of the history of that time) just when their armies were new modelled by the self-denying ordinance. This loss was attempted to be supplied" by 149 Sprigge's History of 'Fairfax's exploits, — non passibus- oeqwis. He was' chaplain, to; the General. Is not altogether devoid of May's candour,, though he has little of his spirit. Walker says it was written by the famous Colonel Fiennes, though under' Sprigge's name. It is altogether a military history, as the following one of Walker, called The History of Independency, is a civil one : or rather of the nature of a political pamphlet against the In dependents- It is full of curious anecdotes ; though written with much fury, by a wrathful Presbyterian member, who was cast out of the saddle with, the rest by the Independents. Milton was even with him, in the fine and severe character he draws of the Presbyterian administra tion, which you will find in the beginning of one of his books of the History of England, in the late uneastrated editions. In the course of the study of these writers, you will have perpetual occasion to verify or refute what they deliver, by turning over the authentic pieces in. Nafeorisj, ?.nd especially Rusbwortfrs, voluminous collections, which are vastly curious and valuable. The Elenchus mobuum of Bates, and Sir Philip Warwick's Memoirs, may be wprtb reading. Nor must that strange thing of Hobbes be forgot, called The History of the Civil Wars i it is in dialogue, and full of paradoxes, like all his other writings. More philosophical, political — or any thing rather than historical; yet full of shrewd observations. 150 When you have digested the history of this period, you will find in Thurloe's large Collection many letters that will let you thoroughly into the genius of those times and persons. It would be vile, indeed, for this age, if such a man as you had not more than one or two of such friends as he you speak of, where you now are. However, they are not so common but that I par ticularly honour this friend of yours, and desire that you would tell him so. But though I do not grudge him the having you at present, I shall grow very angry if you don't contrive very soon to let us have our share. Above all, how is your health? what is your regimen, and where is your designa tion, by the decree of your physician ? To what element has he doomed you ? If to the water, we have a chance for you. If to the air, these moun tains have a right to you. None but the old Monk- Physicians have a pretence to prescribe fire ; or you would be in danger. Under any physician you will be in danger of the fourth. But I forbear, for the omen's sake, to mention that last great cover for mistaken practice. All here are much and warmly yours ; as well as my dearest friend, yours, &p, 151 LETTER LX. I AGREE with you, that our good friend is a little whimsical as a philosopher, or a poet, in his project of improving himself in men and manners ; though, as a fine gentleman, extremely fashionable in his scheme. But, as I dare say, this is a cha racter he is above, tell him I would recommend to him a voyage now and then with me round the Park; of ten times more ease, and ten thousand times more profit, than making the grand tour; whether he chooses to consider it in a philosophico- pOetical, or in an ecclesiastico-political light. Let us suppose his mind bent on improvements in poetry. What can afford nobler hints for pas toral than the cows and the milk- women at your entrance from Spring-Gardens ? As you advance, you have noble subjects for Comedy and Farce> from one end of the Mall to the other ; not to say Satire; to which our worthy friend has a kind of propensity. As you turn to the left, you soon arrive at Rosa- mand's-Pond, long consecrated to disastrous love, and elegiac poetry. The Bird-cage-walk, which you enter next, speaks its own influence, and in spires you with the gentle spirit of Madrigal and Sonnet. When we come to Duck-Island, we have 152 a double chance for success, in the georgic or di dactic Poetry, as the Governor of it, Stephen Duck, can both instruct our friend in the breed of his wild-fowl, and lend him of his genius to sing their generations. But now, in finishing our tour, we come to a, place indeed, the seed-plot of Dettingen and Fon- tenoy, the place of trumpets and kettle-drums, of Horse and Foot Guards, the Parade. The place of Heroes and Demi-Gods, the eternal source of the greater poetry, from whence springs that acme of human things, an Epic Poem ; to which our friend has consecrated all his happier hours. But suppose his visions for the bays be now changed for the brighter visions of the Mitre, here still mpst be his circle ; which on one side presents him with those august towers of St. James's, which, though neither seemly nor sublime, yet ornament that place where the balances are preserved, which weigh out liberty and property to the nations all abroad : and on the other, with that sacred vene rable dome of St. Peter, which, though its head rises and remains in the clouds, yet carries in its bowels the very flower and quintessence of Ecclesit astical Policy, This is enough for any one who only wants to study men for his use. But if our aspiring friend would go higher, and study human nature m an<^ for itself, he must take a much larger tour than that of Europe- He must go first and catch her 153 undressed, nay quite naked, in North America and at the Cape of Good Hope. He may then examine how she appears crampt, contracted, and buttoned close up in the strait tunic of law and custom, as in China and Japan ; or spread out, and enlarged above her common size, in the long and flowing robe of enthusiasm, amongst the Arabs and Saracens. Or lastly, as she flutters in the old rags of worn-out policy and civil government, and almost ready to run back, naked, to the deserts, as on the Medi terranean coast of Africa. These, tell him, are the grand scenes for the true philosopher, for the citi zen of the world, to contemplate. The tour of Europe is like the entertainment that Plutarch speaks of, which Pompey's host of Epirus gave him. There were many dishes, and they had a seeming variety ; but when he came to examine them nar rowly, he found them all made out of one hog, and indeed nothing but por k differently disguised. This is enough for our friend. But to you who have, as Mr. Locke expresses it, large, sound, and round-about sense, I have something more to say. Though indeed L perfectly agree with you, that a scholar by profession, who knows how to employ his time in his studv, for the benefit of mankind, would be more than fantastical, he would be mad, to go rambling round Europe, though his fortune would permit him. For to travel with profit, must be when his faculties are at the height ; his studies matured; and all his reading fresh in his head. 154 But to waste a considerable space of time, at such a period of life, is worse than suicide. Yet, for all this, the knowledge of human nature (the only know ledge, in the largest sense of it, worth a wise maris concern or care) can never be well acquired with out seeing it under all its disguises and distortions, arising from absurd governments and monstrous religions, in every quarter of the globe ; therefore,' I think a collection of the best Voyagers no despi cable part of a Philosopher's library. Perhaps there will be found more dross in this sort of literature, even when selected most carefully, than in any other. But no matter for that; such a collection will contain a great and solid treasure*. The report you speak of is partly false, with a mixture of truth ; and is a thing that touches me so little, that I never mentioned it to any of my friends, who did not chance to ask about it. I have no secrets that I would have such to you. I would have it so to others, merely because it is an imper tinent thing, that , concerns nobody; and its being in common report, which nobody gives credit to, covers the secret the better, instead of divulging it The simple fact is only this ; that not long since, the Duke of Newcastle sent word, by a noble per son, to Mr. Allen, that he had a purpose of asking the King for the Deanery of Bristol for me, if it * I have made a free use of this fine letter in the " Dialogue* on Foreign Travel." H. 155 should become vacant while he is in credit, as a thing which, he supposed, would not be unaccept able to us, on account of its neighbourhood to this place. And now, my dearest friend, you have the whole secret : and a very foolish one it is. If it comes, as Falstaff says of honour, it comes un- looked for, and there's an end. But he had a good chance, because he did not deserve what he was so indifferent about. What my chance is by this scale, I leave to be adjusted between my friends and enemies. It gives me, my dear friend, a sincere pleasure to hear that your health seems to be re-established ; and that the good couple tied together for life, the mind and body, are at peace with one another. As for spirits, it is like love in marriage, it will come hereafter. Shall we have the pleasure of seeing you at Christmas ? You would likely meet the good company you met here last Christmas, I mean Mr. Yorke's. You know, I hope, the true esteem Mr. Allen has for you, and the sincere pleasure your company gives him, 156 LETTER LXI. Prior-Park, December 6th, 1753. I HAD the pleasure of seeing Mr. MasPa in town : but as he said nothing of his domestie affair, I thought it would be impertinent to enter on that subject with him. The Jew-bill is one of those things that charac terize the present age. The Bishops saw no harmj, nor even indecency in it, to religion. The people thought they saw, what (it is beyond all question) they did not see. So that between the not seeing at all, and the seeing falsely, I never met with so much wickedness of a persecuting spirit on one side, and so much nonsense on both, as in this pamphlet controversy. The perennial ebullition of St. John's, I would not call St. John's fountain, but St. Johns well, after the name of a mortal cold bath in Notting- ham shire, rather than from Heraclitus's well. Unless the ancients have fabled about it, and Hu- dibras's account be only to be depended on, that if ever truth was drawn out of it, it was by those who had first put her in ; which I think is no bad image of modern controversy, which generally begins (as. all scolding should end) in sousing Truth over head 157 and ears ; who, if she proves long-winded, may take advantage of the inattention of the disputants to every thing but themselves, to emerge between them ; and then both sides take to themselves" the merit of drawing her out. You have sufficiently shewn me with what spirit and attention you have applied yourself to one period of history, by the character you have drawn of Bishop Williams. I read it to Mr. Yorke, who had read Hacket ; and he admires your thorough penetration into Williams's character, and the mas terly manner in which it is drawn up. What a fine work had the collection of " Heads of illustrious Men" been, had such a character been subjoined to each, instead of that insipid chronicle of their lives and deaths drawn by Birch. I received a very kind letter from our excellent friend Mr. Balguy just before I came to town, with some excellent remarks on the first part of the Divine Legation. He objected to the exactness of the second syllogism, in which he was certainly right, and I have endeavoured to reform it. But I don't agree with him that it is not essentially a syl logism. A man is still a man, though his arms be in his breeches and his legs in his" doublet (this I own was the condition of the syllogism). You will say, indeed, that one so dressed Would make a very ill figure at Court, and the other in the Schools. It is true : yet the man would be found to be a man in Surgeon's-Hall, and the syllogism,, a syllogism by the learned in the closet. 158 I sent our good friend, for your amusement, some leaves on the origin, &c. of Idolatry. LETTER LXII. THOUGH I am on the wing for Prior* Park, I seize a moment to thank you for your late kind visit, which has left a sad regret of you. I hope you got safe home. Remember me in the kindest manner to our excellent friend, Mr. Balguy, and tell him how impatient I shall be to hear that he is got perfectly recovered. I have seen the books safely packed up, and you will receive them with (what only can make so paultry a present- excusable) my whole heart, that goes along with them next Thursday by the Cam bridge carrier or waggon. Bedford-Row, May 28th, 1754. 159 LETTER LXIII. 1 HOPE this will find you safe returned to College. Our people are yet out On their ramble, which is confined to Surrey and Hertfordshire: so that being but indifferent in my health, and having no inviting call to their ramble, unless it had been to Cam bridge, I determined not to return to London, but stay here alone for air and exercise. On Monday last Sir Edward Littleton was so good to come and stay two days with me. He is a very amiable young gentleman. He has very good sense, and appears to have strong impressions of virtue and honour. The latter endowments were no other than I expected from a pupil of yours. He has a perfect sense of his obligations to you. But, my good friend, what is the serving a single person, when you have talents to serve the world ? A word to the wise. Remember for what nature formed you, and your profession requires of you. Remember your great scheme. In the mean- time, let me not forget to tell you that I think a dialogue between the Chancellor of the Exchequer and his friend Falkland, concerning the Clergy of that time (about which they much differed), would make a fine dialogue in your hands'. 160 How well might your .masterly character of Wil liams come in here ? I told Sir Edward that you said you proposed to visit your friends in Staffordshire this Summer: and that I hoped you would not forget your friends in Somersetshire, in Winter. I write under a bad head-ach; but can't forbear telling you, before J conclude, that I go on with my view of Bolingbroke, God preserve you in health. All other true bless ings you will procure for yourself. If you will be so complaisant to reckon our friendship amongst them, I will be so modest to own, what is very true, that it is the very lowest in your number. Let me know how your health goes on. Prior-Park, June 21th, 1754. LETTER LXIV. Mr. HURD to Mr. WARBURTON., REV. SIR, I THANK you for }>our kind favour of the 27th past. Sir Edward Littleton thought himself so much honoured by your notice of him, that I knew it could not be long before he found or made an occasion to acknowledge it. I am very happy 161 in your candid opinion of him. He has the truest esteem and veneration of you. . As you give me no hopes of seeing the excellent family here, I shall set forward directly for Shiff- nal, in Shropshire, where 1 propose staying till the end of the morith, and 'shall then return, by the way of Sir Edward Littleton's, to Cambridge. Mr. Balguy is to meet me there, on invitation, from Buxton. — But if there was not more in the matter, I believe my laziness would find pretences to excuse me from the trouble pf this long journey. The truth is, I go to pass some time with two of the best people in the world, to whom I owe the highest duty, 'and have all possible obligation. I believe I never told you how happy I am in an excellent father and mother, very plain people you may be sure, for they are farmers, but of a turri of mind that might have honoured, any rank arid any education. With very tolerable, but in no degree affluent circumstances, their generosity was such, ¦ they never regarded any expence that was in their power, and almost opt of it, in whatever concerned the welfare of their children. We are three bro thers of us. The eldest settled very reputably in their own way, and the youngest in the Birmingham trade. For myself, a poor scholar, as you know, I am almost ashamed to own to you how solicitous they always were to furnish me with all the oppor tunities of the best and most liberal education. My case in so many particulars resembles that M 162 which the Roman poet describes as his own, that with Pope's wit 1 could apply almost every circum-. stance of it. And if ever I were to wish in earnest to be a poet, it would be for the sake of doing jus tice to so uncommon a virtue. I should be a wretch if I did riot conclude, as he does, si Natura juberet , A certis annis svum remeare peractum, * Atque alios legere ad fastum quoscunque parentes, Optaret sibi quisque : meis contentus, Onustos Fascibus et sellis noliro mihi sumere : demens Judicio vulgi, sanus fortasse tuo, In a word, when they had fixed us in such a rank of life as they designed, and believed should satisfy us, they very wisely left the business of the world to such as wanted it more, or liked it better. They considered what age and declining health seemed to demand of them, reserving to themselves only such a support as their few and little wants made them think sufficient. I should beg pardon for troubling you with this humble history ; but the subjects of it are so much and so tenderly in my thoughts at pre sent, that if I writ at all, I could hardly hardly help writing about them. I shall long to hear that you have put the last hand to the View of Bolingbroke. If ever you write above yourself, it is when your zeaf.for truth and religion animates you to expose the ignorance of foolish men. The subject you mention, and some others you hinted to me when I spent that happy day with you - 163 at London, would do excellently for dialogue. But what of this sort my idleness will give my little powers leave to execute, I know not. What I am most confident of, is that I am ever most warmly, &c R. HURD. Cambridge, July 2d, 1754, 31 LETTER LXV. lOU Could not have obliged me more than by bringing me acquainted, as you do in your last kind letter, with persons Who can never be indifferent to me when so near to you. Sir Ed ward Littleton had told me great things of them ; and from him I learnt that virtue and good sense are hereditary amongst you, and family qualities.' And as to filial piety, I knew it could not but crown all the rest of your admirable endowments. Pray make me acquainted with your good Father and Mother: tell them how sincerely I congratu late with them on the honour of such a Son ; and how much I share in their happiness on that head. Sir Edward oft sees your elder Brother, and speaks of him as the best companion he has— indeed, in a very extraordinary manner pf his abilities. Your other Brother was, Fwas-told, not long since amongst the tradiira towns in -tins neighbourhood, where he M 2- 164 fell into company at dinner with some of our So mersetshire Clergy, by whom he was much caressed on hearing to whom he was related. - Sir Edward and his Lady came yesterday to pay us a visit, where he was treated with all the hos pitality you have seen, and with all the cordiality, by Mr. Allen, of a friend of Mr. Hurd's. Sir Ed ward leaves Bristol on Tuesday. They are a most amiable couple. The women here were extremely taken with Lady Littleton, and particularly your friend my name-sake. I should have told you that last week she and I went to pay them a visit to Bristol ; a place I have not been to of some years, and which a less occasion would not have drawn me to. We past by the Deanery-house, in our way to the Hot Wells. I know you smile. But if you and the Duke of Newcastle knew with what indiffer ence, I, should be much despised, at least, by one of you. All here are. much yours, ,and expect ypu in Winter. Next Summer they propose seeing, you at Cambridge, in their return from a visit to: Lord Leicester. ; Prior- Park, July 1 4th, 1734. 165 LETTER LXVI. I RECEIVED your kind letter; which 4n=» formed me of your return to Cambridge, and I hope, from your silence, and what Mr. Balguy in a letter mentions, in perfect health. We received the highest pleasure in Sir Edward and Lady Littleton's company, and conceived the highest esteem for them. My wife thought her self much honoured in Lady Littleton's kind invita tion into Staffordshire, and reckons upon doing her self that honour. She is now in Dorsetshire, with Mrs. Pitt ; and the rest of the family at Wey mouth. The Attorney* is now using the Bath waters se veral ways. I engaged myself to attend him here ; and so was unable to attend Mr. Charles Yorke to Weymouth, who was very desirous of going thither to spend the vacation with me. He is rambled into Staffordshire, but I hope will come up hither in his return from the North. I am very sorry for what you tell me, that Lady Littleton has not found that benefit by the Bristol waters that might be expected. She must repeat them. As to my " View of Bolingbroke," It is divided into four Letters. The first on his Temper, the se cond on his Principles, the third and fourth on his * Mr. Murray. H. 166 Talents, The two first, which will make about twelve sheets octavo, I propose publishing alone as soon as printed, which will be in three weeks or a month. I tell it you in confidence, I am apprehensive of displeasing some by it whom I most honour ; and at a critical time. - So that, I solemnly assure you, nothing ,but the sense of indispensable duty as a Christian and a Clergyman could have induced me to run the hazard of tloing myself so much injury. Bt»t, japtafuit alea. All other considerations are now past with me. And let Providence take its course, without any solicitude on my part. J keen the f thing a secret. But I. suppose, amongst the perpetual guesses at an aapnymoas author, my name will come intp the list, j You know so much of my love for first parts , that perhaps you will think the two last letters won't appear* or that I wait to try how the first will fare;; No such matter. I go, on with the two last, and they will be. published about six weeks after. Your distance from me* while I am doing this thing, is an inconvenience to me. Bolinghroke says, somewhere or other, that the belief of Revelation has been gradually decaying' ever since the revival of letters. Rut I can't find the place, which I want for a sermon, not for these let* ters. ' If ypf can find it, or know where to seek for it, be so good to «>*rk me the volume and page, -i . Prior-Park, September 1th, 1754, 167 P. S. What I said just above of my want of your was my accidentally reading this morning your letter to Weston, The best primitiai of any young divine, ever written. LETTER LXVII. JirRE this you will see the two first letters of the View published. The trutfh is, I grew a lit tie tired of such a writer. You will see there is a continued apology for the Clergy: yet they will neither love me the more, nor forgive me the sooner, for all I can say in their behalf. This I have expe rienced in a former apology for them. I won't tell you where, but leave you to guess, as a punishment for the mortification you gave me for never mentioning once to me a discourse that I most value myself upon. Before Bolingbroke's Works were published, I but guessed concerning his system of the moral at* tributes from what he dropped in one of his pabs- lished things. For though the first and second Essay had been shewn me by Mr. Pope, and after wards by Mr. Yorke, as neither of them put them .into my hands, I had no curiosity of reading more of them in their s than particular passages of another kind which they shewed me : yet I guessed well, as you will see by the use I make of three quotations from the sermon on God's moral Government, 168 I hope to have the second volume of Sermons out by the' middle of next month, and the first volume of Divine Legation, soon after ; so you see I am winding up my bottoms — a ravelled business, if my answerers are to be believed; But (to use the expression of an old formal Divine of my acquaint ance, who did not, I will assure you, apply it to me but to a very prudent man of his acquaintance)*' I have all my ends before me. >> i You see in the papers an article that relates to me. It may be so, or it may not, for I haVe no account of it. When I know the truth of it, yoU shall. They know I can hold nothing in any of the new- fopnded Churches along with the Prebend of Glou cester (Bristol is one) without being King's Chap* lain. On this. account I had a promise very lately; but whether the performance will follow so soon is a great question. You don't forget where you are to spend your Christmas. And I don't forget you are not a man to be pressed to. any inconveniences, merely; to dp others pleasure. Prior-Park, September 30th, 1754. P. S. I am here alone. The family is not yet returned. But I spend my time very agreeably with the Attorney, 169 LETTER LXVIII. Bedford-Row, October 14th, 1754. 1 TOLD you I would write again when I knew more of that trifling affair than by the news-paper. I am come up to be in waiting, as they call it, this latter half of the month: being added to that illustrious list, the terror of Rome and Geneva ; arid often of King George himself, by Sermons of an hour long. There is at present a young man * in waiting, whom I never saw nor heard of before ; but he renders himself respectable to me by claiming acquaintance with you and Mr. Balguy.— But this is more than enough on so silly a subject. I hope to send you the second volume of my Sermons very soon, There is one, as I told you, on the influence of Learning on Revelation. You Won't much like it ; for I do not. It by no means pleases me. I could say nothing to the purpose ; and when it was too late, I found it was a subject for a volume. 1 like the other sermon on the Mar riage union better. It is more simple. But the nature of the subject gave it this advantage. In my * Mr. Wright, ofRomeley, Derbyshire j who had' been edu cated at St. John's, Cambridge. H. 170 last I hinted that you had never laid your thumb on the discourse I liked best. As I said before, I will give you no directions to guess at my meaning ; not so much as tell you whether it be in this volume. Our honest little friend Browne is fertile in pro jects. He has a scheme to erect a Chaplain and Chapel in the Castle of Carlisle, and to be himself the man. Inter nos, I believe he might as well think of erecting a third Arehbishoprick. He wrote to me for Sir J. Ligonier's interest with the Duke; whose application there would be enough to blast the project, eould he ever bring it to blossom:- I was sorry I had a necessity to tell him this, because it was a thing not to be spoke of. And now I have done so, I question whether he will credit it. Remember we expect you at Christmas, or at your best leisure before or after. But above all remember how dear you are to me, and continue to love your most affectionate, &c. LETTER LXIX, I NEED not tell you how proud I am of yoiw approbation; or, to, speak more properly, of your' partiality for me. To tell you truth, I did mean the Tkanksgwfagii sermon. Though I shall readily own myself mis- 171 taken, now you are of another opinion, A small parcel will come directed to you by Thurlbourn ; in which you will find a sermon book for yourself, Mr. Balguy, Mr. Browne, and my cousin of Jesus. Mr. Mason has called upon me. I found him yet unresolved whether he should take the Living. I said, was the question about a mere secular employ ment, I should blame him without reserve jf he refused the offer. But as I regarded going into orders in another light, I frankly owned to him, he ought not to go, unless, he had a call :- by whieh } meant, I told him, nothing fanatical or supersti tious ; but an ineliflation, and, on that, a resolution, to dedicate all his studies to the service of religion, and totally to abandon his poetry. This sacrifice, I said, J thought was required at any time, but more indispensably so in this, when we are fighting with Infidelity pro- aris etfibcis. This was what I said ; and I will do him the justice to say, that he entirely agreed with me in thinking, that decency, reputation^md religion, all required this sacrifice of him ; aneriiiS|< \f he went into orders, he intended to give it, To your question, I ask another, Hast thou, O Sun ? beheld an emptier sort Than such as swell this bladder of a Court ? So sings Pope, and so says his Commentator. But I am glad for (what you hint is) the occasion of asking, I hope the Dialogues are not dropt. Bedford-Jlow, October 24th, 1754. 172 LETTER LXX. YOU disappointed me in reading that imper fect first edition of the Thanksgiving sermon. How ever, you are right : the other is to be preferred for the happy disposition of the subject. , Send me another dialogue, , and I will, forget and forgive. I will forget the tr^sh that goes under tha| name, and, forgive your indolence, which is less pardonable in you than in any body I know. What is become of our good friend Mr. Balguy, and hosj| is his health ? . . • • You expect perhaps I should tell you of the won ders I met with in this new Elysium. I found but two things to admire, as excellent iri their kinds; the one is the beef-eaters, whose broad faces bespeak such repletion of body and inanition of mind as perfectly fright away those two enemies of man, famine and thought. The Other /cuftbsity is our table-decker, of so placid a mien and so entire a taciturnity (both of them improved by thee. late elopement of his wife), that he is much fitter for the service of a Minister of State than of thp Gospel. >' In short, I found him the only reasonable man no*' to converse with. Bedford-Row, October 28th, 1154. 173 LETTER LXXI. Bedford-Row, November 13th, 1754. 1 AM much obliged to you for your kind letter of the llth. You convince me, by the three instances which you so acutely enforce, that the sermons are emi nently faulty, in not sufficiently developing the subjects. First, I speak, p. 11 6*, of exclusion from a reli gious society's being unattended with civil incapa cities ; yet Dissenters from the established Religion I hold to be justly liable to civil incapacities. In p. 1 16", 1 consider the established Religion (as I express myself p. 106 of the Alliance), only under its most simple form, that is, where there is but one Religion in the state. Now a particular (of whom I am speaking, p. 11 6" of the Sermons), whom I call a private member, when expelled is subject to no civil incapacities;, those incapacities arise afterwards^ from a Test-Law, which is of no use till there be a formidable religious society grown up, opposite to the established. - "¦¦ Secondly, Nature and human society alone seem not to determine against Polygamy. Why I said so was, because it was allowed to the Jews ; and I v 174 ¦ apprehend nothing was indulged them against the law of nature. Thirdly, In my Comment on the apostolical de cree, I hold that the fornication, there mentioned, signifies the Jewish prohibited degrees, and that this was positive, not moral : yet speaking of the marriage-union, so far as it regards the prohibited degrees, I say, it holds of nature. Now to recon cile this, I observe, that the prohibited degrees prescribed by nature, is one thipg ; those prescribed by the Jewish law, another. The Jewish law indeed took in the degrees forbid by nature; but they added others, not forbid by nature ; and these are they that, in contradistinction to the degrees prohibited by nature, I call the Jewish prohibited^ degrees. And I think justly. For it never could have been a question amongst the Apostolic Chris-' tians, whether the degrees, which nature forbade^ should be transgressed ; but only whether those which the Jewish law forbade, should be abstained from. So that p. 106, speaking of the former, I might well say, they hold of nature : p, 120, speaking of the latter, that they were positive laws. By the way, the constitution of Moses's prohibited degrees was admirable; as that people had fio commerce with any other, there was a necessity of crossing the strain as much as possi ble ; naturalists observiug that even all plants as well as animals degenerate when that provision is not made, 175 In order to keep a due balance on so nice sub jects as Church authority and Church communion I chose, under each head, two texts to discourse on, that had a seeming contrary tendency, as call no man fatlier, and the Scribes and Pharisees sit in Moses's seat. — And again — he that is not against us, is with us — and keep the unity of the spirit : so that it was difficult, while I strove to preserve a temper, not to fall into contradictions. Pray make my best compliments to our good friend Master Doctor Browne (to address him in the old style, while I am uncertain of his new), and greet him on his fresh honours : I thank him for his letter, which, as we shall see him so soon, I forbear to trouble him with the further acknow- < ledgment of. He knows he is always welcome to Prior-Park. I propose returning by the 25th. - But hark you, at what time are we to expect you at Prior-Park ? or must it be (my constant fate, not to see those I would ? Will you contrive to come down with him ? will you come before r will you come after ? Take notice this is my prin-^ cipal concern. You know how dear you are to me, and I know how much you love me; so that there needs nothing to be enforced* in our own power, to bring us together, 176 LETTER LXXII. I HOPE by this time you and Mr. Balguy have got the Divine Legation. Pray tell me what people say of the Dedication* to the Chancellor. I ask it, because one day it will afford subject for our speculations. I will not ask your own opinion, because I know your parti ality ' to me. Besides, the asking such a thing is only begging a compliment; and some time or other you will know, that, at this time at least, I wanted not a compliment, as fond as I may be of them, but the real sentiments of good judges. All this will puzzle you still more, because I half suspect the Dedication is not what you looked for. But keep all this to yourself. For so much I have not said, nor would say to any one but to you, personally. But why do I hear no more of the Dialogues ? Don't you think that age in want of a little truth and sense, which gave credit to the Bottle-man, and applauses to Orrery's Letters, of which the Bookseller told me has sold twelve thousand ? I go on, pushing this grand enemy of God and. godliness. But what I predicted to you, I am sonyv * The topics in it were suggested, and the very language in which they are expressed was in great measure dictated, by Mr. Murray and Mr. Charles Yorke. H. 177 to teU you, I have experienced to be true, that I tread per cineres dolosos. However, my duty tells me tins is a capital case, and I must on. All I can do for my own interest, is this; I believe I must be forced to have an apology for these Letters at the end of the fourth. You will say, every thing considered, that this is hard upon me. I think it very hard : but we must take the world as we find it. We are all rejoiced with the hopes of seeing you in Summer. Mr. Allen this year goes but once to Weymouth, and it will be the latter end of July. What say you of coming to me in London when Trinity term ends, and accompanying me in my post-chaise to Prior-Park; staying with us there till the family sets forward to Weymouth, and ac companying it thitherto drink the water and bathe ? This, I hope, will be greatly conducive to your health and spirits. Mine (I mean my spirits) at this present writing are just exhausted, as you may see by this scrawl. But my last will bear the memory of our love and friendship. Pmr-Parif JDtcemjfdr lQth, 115*. 178 LETTER LXXIIL 10U characterize the subject of your new Dialogue* very justly. But for all that, I have not the less, but the more appetite to devour it. One of your dialogists, to the shame of our hearts and heads, is forgotten; and it would be as well if the other (except on this occasion to be exposed to contempt) were forgotten. But pray let me have it as soon as you can. I don't wonder at your astonishment at the cine- res dolosi. It surprised me, who knew the men I have to deal with a little better. I have finished the third letter, which, together with my Apology, will be published as soon as they can be printed, with out waiting for the fourth, which will be near as bis as the other three. I had forgot in my last to mention what you say of Polygamy. I think it a very puzzling question ; and see, with you, great difficulties which side soever I take, whether for its conformity to the law of nature, or otherwise. You must not think worse of than they de serve. You understand me. It was esteemed a quantum siifficit. But I had another reason for my * On Retirement. H. 179 question. You make the best . apology for me. And indeed it is the true one. I am glad you mentioned March, for that has determined my resolution. My wife (who is always talking Of you) goes with me to London about the •22d instant. Mr. Allen and, family come about the middle or latter end of February ; soon after which, I had thoughts of leaving them in town, and going either into Lincolnshire or tp Gloucester. But your attendance at Whitehall has determined me to attend you ; though, whether I had been there or no, you know you are always at home in our family, who are much delighted with this in cident. We are then to settle all matters about your visit, to us. Let me know the state of your health, and hpw this weather agrees with you. Have you not been diverted with, what you have heard has passed above ; which began so furiously, and ended so pacifically ? It put me in mind of the account a Duelist gives of himself in Shakespear. " I would fain," says he, " have brought my adver- " sary to the lie direct, and he would go no further " than the lie circumstantial ; so we measured " swords, and parted friends." Mr. Allen and I are alarmed lest the vacancy at Litchfield should engage our amiable friend civili- hus undis, and plunge him over head and ears in Party. — In a letter I just received from him, he was alarmed for your health, which, he said, Browne gave him a very ill account of, and he would come N 2 180 over to Cambridge to see you. But Browne says, Sir Edward mistook him ; and I hope he did. But Sir Edward won my heart by this. It was a letter of compliment, so I did not trouble him with my answer. But pray, when you writes dorit forget my acknowledgments to him for it, in the best manner. You are the friend of my soul ; so I stand on no ceremony with you.; I write just as I would pour myself into your ear, sometimes long after I should, and sometimes before. Remember me warmly to our excellent Mr. Balguy. How is his lameness ? When I had the singular pleasure of seeing him, and I think it was so in every sense, he was agUity itself. But he has the art or fortune of bringing himself down to a lame beerippled world. Prior-Park, January 1st, 1165. P. S. Many, very many happy new years to yoii, each happier than the other, as they will be if you go on at your rate of virtue. 181 LETTER LXXIV. I HAVE two kind letters, and the packet, to acknowledge. I am charmed with the Dialogue ; the notes are original ; very happy in their turn and manner, and as well executed, with a deal of fine, satire. J see nothing in any of them to reform, but in one : which too is on the best subject, but we will con trive to give it another turn. I will tell you my opinion truly, that a few such Dialogues (enough to make a small volume) will be one pf the finest works of genius we have in the English tpngue> And then you shall bid adieu to wit and criticism, to pursue the great design. Cowley might well be tired with Courts.— -At the Restoration there was not a set of people more troublesome to the Ministry than the Cavalier Officers; amongst whom had crept in all the profligate of broken fortunes, to share in the merits and rewards of that name. Cowley wrote his Cutter of Coleman-street to un mask these scoundrels, and imagined he should have had the thanks of the Ministry for it ; when, con trary to his expectation, he raised a storm even at Court, that beat violently upon him. See his Pre face to that Play, in the later editions of his works in Svp. Would not this be an incident worth 182 mentioning, as it would afford some good reflecw tions on his part ; and as Sprat might speak the Court sentiments on so remarkable an occasion. — I shall be more exact in my remarks on the second reading; and shall have a world of hints by that time I see you. You ask whether Lord Bacon spoke from his resentments ? He did. But not the less truly for that. Only had the Cecils been his patrons, per-. haps he would not have seen it, certainly not have felt it, and most certainly" would not have com-- plained of it.— •-You will see the third letter adver* tised next week. Browne has told me the grand seeret; and I wish it had been a secret still to me, when it was none to every body else. I am grieved that either these unrewarding times, or his love of poetry, or his love of money, should have made him overlook the duty of a. Clergyman in these times, and the dignity of a Clergyman in all times, to make connexions with Players. Mr. Allen is grieved. You are suf ficiently grieved, as I saw by your postscript in a letter to him, where you reprove him for an adverr tisement. We told him, that we should both have dissuaded him from his project had he communi cated it to us. As it was, we had only to lament the state of these times that forced a learned and ingenious Clergyman into these measures, to put himself at ease. How much shall I honour one who has a stronger propensity to poetry, and has 183 got a greater name in it, if he performs his promise to me of putting away those idle baggages, after his sacred espousals ! — No one shall see the Dialogue.— -*( The Complaint I always thought admirable. If our poetical friend does not taste it, it-is because he is wisely weaning himself from these enchantments. Bedford-Row, January 31st, 1755, LETTER LXXV. Mr. HURD to Mr, WARBURTON Emmanuel, Tuesday Noon. SIR Edward Littleton is with me, and with his usual kindness hardly cares to stir from me. Yet I got half an hour to read the Apology, which I received this morning, and, as I suppose, am in debted to you for the favour of the present. I can not be at ease till I have told you, though it be in two words, that if I were capable of honouring you more than I have long done, I should certainly do it on the score of this glorious Apology, which lets me see the bottom of your mind so perfectly. I am sorry for the occasion of it. But you never writ any thing more worthy yourself, or which, in spite of friends or foes, will more endear your me- 184 mory to the wise and good for enter. Excuse this frank declaration, which comes from the bottom of a heart that is wholly and devotedly yours. LETTER LXXVI. JT was kind in you to send me your warm thoughts. You have in that Apology a true copy of my heart. My provocation perhaps was greater (as my misfortune was) that the accusations in the anonymous letter came from a real friend. Had he made them to me without disguise, I could have satisfied him in private. He reduced me to this necessity. And partly provocation, partly self? defence, and partly my duty to the publick, in these wretched times, made me open myself without the least covering or disguise.. And could you satisfy me that the duties of my profession required no further of me, than the weak efforts I have already made in support of falling Religion, I would never more set pen to paper. For all I shall ever get by these attempts (and I shall now never Write on other subjects) will be only outrageous abuse from the profligate and infamous, and nameless inhabitants of garrets and prisons ; of which, I have already had much more than my share. Besides, I could not conclude more to my Own satisfaction than with a thing you seem so much tb approve : and* your 185 approbation ismoreto me than that of a whole people. Mr. Allen and Mrs, Allen are just come ; they ask after you. I tell them you will come before the first swallow, and bring more to me than Summer. My dearest friend, God have you always in his keeping, and give you health to pursue those studies that are to stem a barbarous and an im pious age ! If Sir Edward be yet with you, assure him of my best respect; and assure yourself of the warmest affection and friendship of W. WARBURTON. Bedford-Row, February 15th, 1155. LETTER LXXVII. 1 HAVE the pleasure of yours of the 20th. It gives us all pleasure to understand how soon we shall have your company and Mr. Balguy's. The two inclosed letters (which you will bring back with you) will give you pleasure on the same account they gave it me. My Julian has had a great effect in France, where Free-thinking holds its head as high as in England. This is a great conso lation to me, as my sole aim is to repress this in fernal, spirit. The Jesuits, who make a case of conscience of speaking well of Protestant Writers, have in their Journal of Trevoux, for November, been very lavish in their encomiums on the book, 186 and it has procured me the good will of the best and greatest man* in France ; while there is hardly a Nobleman in England who knows I have wrote such a book. But, what care I for any Nobleman? When I most wished for their favours, it was only to put me in a capacity of serving merit, that is, my Friends ; for, thank God, I have either had'the good luck to find them together, or the courage to drop the pretended friend, let his quality be what it would, as soon as I found he had none. You may judge of the effects my Apology will have by what my conversation has had : for it is all of a piece. Only this last year or two I' was going swimmingly on. I have now struck upon a rock. But all this is only for your own ear. It pleases me [to find the publick does not smell the matter. Mason, who speaks their sense, supposes the writer of the anony mous letter some secret enemy. You may be sure I would not undeceive him. Browne, indeed, con jectures strange matters. But I desired him to "keep his conjectures to himself. I can perceive the loss of interest, he supposes it will occasion, con cerns him, as his gratitude makes him interest himT self for me. But I have been led to a length, I did not intend. All I meant was to wish you both a good journey. I am, Mv BEST FRIEND, Ever yours, W. WARBURTON. February 22d, 1155. * Due de Noailles. H. 187 LETTER LXXVIII. Bedford-Row, March 21st, 1755. lOU will see in the papers an article that mentions me, which will give you pleasure, on which account I thought myself obliged to confirm it to you. The Bishop of Durham, copcurring with the Attorney General in their good opinion of me, has given me the Prebend Which was lately Man- gey's, near ^500. He had other friends, you may imagine, to oblige ; so I have resigned the Prebend of Gloucester, and I shall resign another piece of preferment in the country. ' But the free motion and friendly manner in which this thing was done, you will easily believe, enhances the value of it to me. My friends are solicitous in these matters for me ; I myself, at this time of life, extremely little. My best possession is your esteem and friend ship : continue to love me; and believe me, my dearest friend, most entirely yours, W. WARBURTON. 188 LETTER LXXIX. Mr. HURD to Mr. WARBURTON. • Emmanuel, March 23d, 1755, IT makes me truly happy that I can , now, at length, honestly congratulate with you on a pre ferment, worth your acceptance. The. Church has been so long and deeply in your debt, that it will seem but common justice if it now pays you with interest. Not that I look upon this Prebend as 8uch payment ; which delights me principally, as it does you, from its being given at this time, and by such a person. I have no words to tell you how much I honour the, Attorney-general, The noble* ness of mind, he has shewn on tliis occasion, is only to be matched by that which every body takes notice of in a late Apdtogist. If the world were made acquainted with particulars, it would, me? thinks, be taken for one of the most beautiful events in both your lives, that he should confer and you receive such a favour at this juncture.— May every circumstance concur to afford you the full enjoyment of this and better things, which your great services; have long since merited ! 189 I have been touch out of order since my return, or your kind letter had not prevented the thanks I owe you for a thousand favours. I indulge in the memory of the agreeable days and nights I so lately passed with you. The truth is, I am so happy in the share you allow me in your friendship, that I have scarce another wish for myself, except for the continuance of it. And this, with all my infirmi ties, I will not doubt of, so long as I have a heart warm and honest enough to give it entertainment. Mr. Balguy told me he should write this post, or the next. Rev. Sir, Your most faithful, &c. R.HURD. LETTER LXXX. Prior-Park, March 3 1st, 1755. I DEFERRED my thanks for your last kind letter till I had got to this place, whither I am come for about a fortnight ; and shall then return back to Easter term, and to the preaching a foolish sermon, they bullied me into, at the Small-Pox Hospital (after having refused the Sons of the Clergy), but on condition they would not press me to print it. L hate to have my name in a dirty 190 news-paper on any account; which has always made me decline these charity-jobs, that every body is fit for, and almost every body ready for. And the impertinence of the advertisement on this occasion, will make it difficult to draw me into another. I don't like that every cobler should know I am a Prebendary of the same church with Dr. Chapman the great : but I would have no friend ignorant that I owe it to the friendship of the Attorney, and tp the generosity of the Bishop's sentiments concern ing me. Mr. Allen and I agree perfectly with you con cerning the Attorney's greatness of mind; and we love you very selfishly for a way of thinking so like Our own on this occasion. We are much concerned to hear you speak of your health in the manner you do. That scorbutic humour in your blood certainly lies on your nerves. Let me persuade you by all means to use Weymouth. Or rather let me prepare you to be persuaded against July. 1 take it for granted, indispensable care of your health dispenses of course with your statutes ; otherwise, they are likely to do more hurt now, than ever yet, I.believej they did good--?— I wish I could improve my works as Mr. Allen does his ; and yet I am always mending. But there is a difference between mending and improving, as every botcher knows. One should think mine had the advantage of his, in being less liable to the caprice of taste or fashion. Yet I don't know: I have lived to see 191 reasoning on principles and criticism on antiquity out of fashion ; and heaps of inconsistent Essays become all the mode. Mr. Allen is more compliant, and therefore more successful than I. He has just now turned a rich fruit-grove into a fine flowery lawn: why should not I turn what remains of the Divine Legation into Court Sermons without head or tail, into *' Flowers of all hues, and, without spine, the rose ?" I am only deterred by, an ancient Critic (those severe task-masters., of you and me), who says, " Omnis ilia laus intra unum aut alterum dieni, " velut in herba vel flore praecepta, ad nullam cer- . " tam vel Solidam pervenit frugem." But I only mean to tell you, without figure or , allegory, that Mr. Allen has made many improve ments since you was here ; though he takes the greatest improvement of his seat to be filling it with such as you. God give you health (you will give yourself every thing besides), and give me courage to emulate your virtues as much as I love your person. W. WARBURTON. P. S. The women are all much yours, and are anxious for your health ;. they all desire their kindest remembrance. 192 LETTER LXXXI. I HEARTILY condole with you on your father's declining condition. I know a little what attends the distresses of filial piety. But the cala mity is much softened when the loss is by a gradual decay of nature, in good mature age. Pray inform Mrs. Hurd of my great regard for her, and how much I feel for all your distresses on this melan choly occasion. You do right to call your thoughts from it all you can. And perhaps this is one of the best circumstances of lettered life, that we have a refuge from the sense of human miseries, as well as a support under them. I greatly approve of your design of a Dialogue on the effect of transferring supremacy in religious . ihatters. A thousand curious hints will arise to you as you proceed in contemplation of the subject. One now, for instance, occurs to me. Could any thing be mote absurd than that, when the yoke of Rome was thrown offj they should govern the new Church, erected in opposition to it, by the laws of. the old. The pretence was, that this was only by way of interim, till a body of Ecclesias tical Laws could be formed. But whoever consi ders that the Canon Laws proceeded from, and, 193 had perpetual* referrence to, an absolute spiritual Monarch, and were formed upon the genius, and ' did acknowledge the authority of the Civil Laws, the issue of civil despotism-r-l say, whoever considers this, will be inclined to think that the Crown con trived this interim from the use the Canon Law was of to the extention of the Prerogative. However, it is certain that the succeeding Monarchs, Eliza beth, James, Charles, prevented our ever having a body of new Ecclesiastical Laws, from a sense of this utility in the old ones; and a consciousness, if ever they should submit a body of new Laws to the Legislature, the Parliament would form them altogether upon the genius of a free Church and State. This I take to be the true solution of this mysterious affair, that wears a face of so much ab surdity and scandalous neglect. Bracton and Fortescue, the two most learned, and almost the only learned of the ancient Lawyers, are both express, not only to our free and limited Government, but they deduce the original of civil power from the people. You will not fail of meet ing with some good things in Selden's fine Disser tations on Fleta. — Pray let me know how your father goes on ; how long you continue with him, and when you think of returning to Cambridge. All here are sincerely grieved for the distress of your family. They desire to be remembered in the kindest manner ; - particularly your lively friend. They are all now at home (save Molly Allen, who 194 is at Potter's), finding no rest for their feet on the Shores of the Atlantic Ocean, which they essayed for two or three days at a place called Limington. Prior- Park, August 31st, 17 55. LETTER LXXXII. Mr. HURD to Dr. WARBURTON. Shifnal, September 13th, 1755. YOUR truly friendly letter of the 31st past, brought me all the relief I am capable of in my present situation. Yet that relief had been greater if the fact had been, as you suppose, that the best of fathers was removing from me, in this maturity of age, by a gradual insensible decay of nature ; in which case, I could have drawn to myself much ease from the considerations you so kindly isuggest to me. But it is not his being out of all hope of recovery (which I had known long since, and was prepared for), but his being in perpetual pain, that afflicts me so much. I left him last night in this disconsolate condition. So near a prospect of death, and so rough a passage to it — I own to you I cannot be a witness of this in one whom nature and ten 195 thousand obligations have made so dear to me, without the utmost uneasiness. Nay, I think the very temper and firmness of mind with which he bears this calamity, sharpens my sense of it. I thank God, an attachment to this world has not as yet been among my greater vices. But were I as fond of it as prosperous and happy men sometimes are, what I have seen and felt for this last month were enough to mortify such foolish affections. And in truth it would amaze one, that a few such instances as this, which hardly any man is out of the reach of, did not strike dead all the passions, were it not that Providence has determined, in spite of our selves, by means of these instincts, to accomplish its own great purposes. But why do I trouble my best friend wditii this sad tale and rambling reflec tions ? I designed only to tell him that I am quite unhappy here, and that, though it is more than time for me to retu>m to Cambridge, I have no power of coming to a thought of leaving this place. However, a very few weeks, perhaps a few 4ayj, may put an end to this irresolution. I thank you f°r your fine observation on the neglect to reform the Ecclesiastical Laws. It is a very materia^ one, and deserves . to be well consi dered. But of these .matters, when I retprn to my books, and my mind is more easy. I wish you all the health and all the happiness your virtues deserve, apd this wretched world will %dmit of. I know of Jiothing that reconciles me o 2 196 more to it than the sense of having such a friend as you in it. I have the greatest obligations to Mrs. Warburton and the rest of your family for their kind condolence. My best respects and sincerest good wishes attend them. I must ever be, &c. R. HURD. LETTER LXXXIII. I RECEIVED your most tender letter, and sympathize with you most heartily. — Let me have better news. A very disagreeable affair has brought me to town a month before my usual time. Mr. Knap5- ton, whom every body, and I particularly, thought the richest bookseller in town, has failed. His debts are ^20,000, and his stock is valued at ^>30,000 : but this value is subject to many abating contingencies ; and you never at first hear the whole debt. It is hoped there will be enough to pay every one : I don't know what to say to it. It is a business of years. He owes me a great sum. I am his principal creditor; and as such Fhave had it in my power, at a meeting of his creditors, to dispose them favourably to him, and to get him treated with great humanity and compassion. I have brought them to agree unanimously to take a resig- 197 nation of his effects, to be managed by trustees ; and in the mean time, till the effects can be dis posed of to the best advantage, which will be some years in doing,, to allow him a very handsome sub sistence ; for I think him an honest man (though he has done extreme ill by me), and, as such, love him. He falls with the pity and compassion of every body. His fault was extreme indolence. I was never more satisfied in any action of my life than in my service of Mr. Knapton on this occasion, and the preventing (which I hope I have done) his being torn in pieces. Yet you must not be sur prised, I am sure I should not, if you hear (so great is the world's love of truth and .of me) that my severity to him destroyed his credit, and would have pushed him to extremity. I will assure you you have heard many things of me full as true ; which, though at present apocryphal, may, by my never contradicting them, in time become holy- *writ, as the Poet says. v God bless you, and believe me to be, &c. Bedford-Row, September 24th, 1155, 108 LETTER LXXXIV. Bedford-Row, October 21th, 1755. .V-' .¦ I HEARTILY condole with you in your dj*. tress, but amfgiadyou are gbt from the scene of it. The politics that encountered you on your coming to Cambridge, plainly ?ffceiv your wise men are irittch more intent on themselves than the publick ; otherwise they wotold not, at %uoh a crisis as this, When our all is at .stake (which will always be the case in every pitiful Squabble- with France)* busy themselves with who Was in or out. Take these hints while they remain in my me mory — Under the Norman and Plantagenet lines, the prerogative rose or fell just as the Pope or the Barons ruled at court. But the principle of civil liberty was always in vigour, — The Barons were a licentious race in. their private lives. The Bishops threw them out a bait, which they were too wise to catch at. Subsequent marriage, by the Imperial Laws, as well as Capons, legitimated bastards as to succession : the Common Law kept them eternally in their state of bastardy. The Barons' castles were full of bastards ; the very name >was honour able. At a Parliament under Henry III. " roga- " yerunt omnes Episcopi ut consentirent quod nati 199 " ante matrimonium essent legitimi — et omnes " Gamiies et Barones una. voce responderunt quod " nalunt Leges Anglian mutari." See Coke-Little ton, L. 3, C. 6, Sect. 40. This famous answer has been quoted a thousand and thousand times, arid yet nobody seems to have understood the manage ment. The Bishops, as partisans of the Pope, were for subjecting England to the Imperial and Papal laws, and therefore began with a circum stance most to the taste of the Barons. The Barons smelt the contrivance; and rejected a proposition most agreeable to them, for fear of the consequences, the introduction of the Imperial Laws, whose very genius jand essence was arbitrary despotic power. Their answer shews it, -f Nolumus Leges Angliae mutari"— they had nothing to object to the reform, but they were afraid for the constitution, After the Reformation, the Protestant Divines, as appears by the Homilies composed by the wisest and most disinterested men, such as Cranmer and -Latime^ preached up Non-resistance very strongly; but it was only to oppose to, Popery. The case was this: the Pope threatened to excommunicate and depose Edward ; he did put his threats in exe cution against Elizabeth. This was esteemed such a stretch of power, and so odious, that the Jesuits. contrived all means to soften it. — One was, by searching into the origin of civil power, which they brought rightly (though for wicked purposes) from the people ; as. Mariana and others. — To combat 200 this, arid to save the person of the Sovereign, the Protestant Divines preached up Divine Right. — Hooker, superior to every thing, followed the truth. — But it is i-emarkable that this Non-resistance that at the Reformation was employed to keep , out Popery, was, at the Revolution, employed to bring it in- — so eternally is truth sacrificed to politicks. . My dear friend, take care of your health ; and be lieve me, &c. LETrER LXXXV. 1 HAVE read the Dialogue with vast pleasure. I tell you, with all sincerity, it will be excellent when you have put the last hand to it. It is supe rior to the. other two. The superiority of the sufc ject has proportionably fired you ; it will too be an admirable introduction to the other on the English Constitution. You will see here and there a trifling ill-placed hint. But I propose to be very critical when you have finished them all. The subject is so far from displeasing me, as you suggest, that I like it above any other ; and this alone will secure even a good book's taking, in this prodigious age. I solemnly declare, I tell you my real and well- weighed thoughts. A book of such Dialogues must 201 be very taking ; therefore don't engage yourself with a bookseller till we weigh the matter well. — How superior is it to any thing we have had or are like to have in the polite way ! — but I suppress myself. In the first place, take care of your health ; in the second place, take care of your Dialogues K How does your good Father ? How do your Mo ther and the rest? I think them of my family. Adieu, my dearest friend, &c. Bedford-Row, November 15th, 1155. P. S. I will take care to return the Dialogues safe ; in the mean time they are locked up. LETTER LXXXVI. Mr. HURD to Dr. WARBURTON. Cambridge, December 1st, 1155. I HAVE to tell you that it has pleased God to release my poor Father from his great misery. You will guess the rest, when I acquaint you that his case was cancerous. All his family have great rea son to be thankful for his deliverance: and yet I find myself not so well prepared for the stroke as I had thought. I blame myself now for having left him. Though when I was with him, as, I could not hide my own uneasiness, I saw it only added to his. I know not what to say. He was the best of men in all relations, and had a generosity of mind that was amazing in his rank of life. In his long and great affliction he shewed a temper which philosophers only talk of. If he had any foible, , it was, perhaps, his too great fondness for the unworthiest of his sons.-— My Mother is better than could be expected from her melancholy atr tendance. Yet her health has suffered by it.- — I have many letters to write, but would not omit communicating, what so tenderly concerns me, tp my best friend. I thank you for your book and your kind letters. Mr. Balguy and I think much more hardly of Jortin than you , do. I could say much of this, matter at another time. LETTER LXXXVII. I OUGHT rather to rejoice with all whp loyed that good man lately released, than to con- -dole with them. Can there be a greater consolation, to all his friends than that he was snatched from human -miseries to the reward of his labours ? You 203 I am sure must rejoice, amidst all the tenderness of filial piety and the .softenings of natural affection ; the gentle melancholy, that the incessant memory of so indulgaat a parent and so excellent a man will make habitual, will be always brightened with the sense of his present happiness i where, perhaps, one Of his pleasures is his ministeringoare over those which were dearest to him in life. I dare say this will be your case, oecause the same circumstances have made it mine. My great concern for you was while your Father was languishing on his death-bed. And my concern at present is for your Mothers grief and ill state of health. True tenderness for your Father, and the dread of adding to his dis tresses, absolutely required you to do what you did, ^nd to retire from so melancholy a scene. As I know your excellent nature, I conjure you by our friendship to divert your mind by the con versation of your friends, and the amusement of trifling reading, till you have fortified it sufficiently to bear the reflection on this common calamity of our nature without any other emotion than that occasioned by a kind of soothing melancholy, which perhaps keeps it in a better frame than any other kind of disposition. You see what man is, when never so little within the verge of matter and motion in a ferment. The affair of Lisbon has -made men tremble, as well as the Continent shake from one end of Eurqpe to another; from -Gibraltar to the Highlands of Soot- 204 land. To suppose these desolations the scourge of Heaven for human impieties, is a dreadful reflection; and yet to suppose ourselves in a forlorn and father less wOrld, is ten times a more frightful considera tion. In the first case, we may reasonably hope to avoid our destruction by the amendment of our manners; in the latter, we are kept incessantly alarmed by the blind rage of warring elements. The relation of the Captain of a Vessel, to the Admiralty, as Mr. Yorke told me the story, has something very striking in it. He lay off Lisbon on this fatal 1st of November, preparing to hoist sail for England. He looked towards the city in the morning, which gave the promise of a fine day, and saw that proud Metropolis rise above the waves, flourishing in wealth and plenty, and founded on a rock that promised a Poet's eternity, at least, to its grandeur. He looked an hour after, and saw the city involved in flames, and sinking in thunder. A sight more awful mortal eyes could not behold on this side the day of doom. And yet does not human pride make us miscalculate ? A drunken beggar shall work as horrid a desolation with a kick of his foot against an antrhill, as sub terraneous air and fermented minerals to a popu lous city. And if we take in the universe of things rather with a philosophic, than a religious eye, where is the difference in point of real importance between them ? A difference there is, and a very sensible one, in the merit of the two societies. The little 205 Troglodytes amass neither superfluous nor imaginary wealth ; and consequently have neither drones nor rogues amongst them. In the confusion, we see, caused by such a desolation, we find, by their im mediate care to repair and remedy the general mis chief, that none abandons himself to despair, and so stands not in need of Bedlams arid Coroners' inquests : but, as the Poet says, " In this 'tis God directs, in that, , 'tis man." And you will say, remember the sovereignty of Reason. To this I reply, that the common defi nition of man is false : he is not a reasoning animal. The best you can predicate of him is, that he is an animal capable of reason, and this too we take Upon old tradition. For it has not been my for-' tune yet to meet, I won't say with anyone man, but I may safely swear with any one order of men, who ever did reason. And thjs I am afraid our friend Towne will soon find to his cost. 206 LETTER LXXXVIII. Prior-Park, December 21st, 1755. JUST riow Mr. Allen has shewn me a pamphlet*, which, he says, was sent to him by the post ; though I had seen the title, without knowing what to make of it, in the news-papers. 1 have read it, and you may judge with what sentiments. Though I have no data to judge from what quarter it comes, yet I am as sure of the author as if I had seen it written: for I know but, of one man from whose heart or whose pen so fine a piece of irony could come, Therefore, if I be mistaken, do not undeceive me; for the plea sure of thinking from whence it comes to me, is as great as the gift. In the mean time I say to every body else (even to Mr. Allen, who however on the first reading told me that the keen soft ness, the politeness, and the delicacy, he thought, could come but from one hand) what I say to you, that I have had no data to judge of the author; that I saw it first by accident after the publication ; and that I am sure Mr. Jortin will do me the justice to think I had no hand in it, be- * Entitled, On the Delicacy of Friendship. A Seventh Disser-r tation addressed to the Author of the Sixth. H. 207 cause I am sure he does not think I am able ; in which he is not out. . I will be frank with you ; next to the pleasure of seeing myself so finely praised, is the satisfaction I take in seeing Jortin mortified. I know to what de gree it will do it. He deserves to be mortified on this occasion : it will do him good, and this is the worst I wish him. There was but one thing that I in good earnest resented for its baseness, and grieved at for its meanness. It is where, speaking of Li- banius (I think in the Sixth Dissertation, I am sure in one of the six), he evidently insinuates that Julian was murdered by some Christians amongst his own soldiers. You know I have a large note in my Julian to refute this calumny: and at the con clusion of it, it is that I refer the determination to Jortin in that compliment, that the author of the seventh Dissertation makes so fine an use of. And this is the determination that this amiable- minded man thinks fit to make upon the occasion. Seriously, I think I have in this elegant raillery more than full satisfaction for all that torrent of ribaldry that has gone over me (and yet here I am, as Justice Shallow says in the Play), since first I commenced author, I have told you my pleasure in seeing this piece ; but I will not say one word of my gratitude to the author ; and only one word of my wonder, that so finished a thing was com posed and printed almost as soon as Jortiris heavy bopk could get into people's hands. 208 You are very good to our friends at Grantham, to take notice of those two boys ; but the boast of their being known to you will do them so much credit, and perhaps make them aspire to deserve, that it is but charity. I mentioned to our excellent friend my intention of putting the View of Bolingbroke into the hands of the people in a small and cheap volume. You will see one advertised after the holydays, called the second edition. But this is not it. This is in the large size : and only the two first letters, and the Apology, now prefixed, are corrected, just as they will appear in the small-sized volume, to which I have put the last hand ; the third and fourth let ters in this 8vo edition being just as they were at first. I have a particular partiality for these Letters, as you may perceive by my saying so much of them, and perhaps with as little reason as most par tialities are founded on. The other day Mrs. Allen was saying you talked when you was here in Summer, of coming hither at Christmas, for that you had some days then to spare ; and seems to think you will ; for I will assure you I never saw her receive so much plea sure in any visit as in that. I told her, if you did^ I had forgot. — But what if you tried to divert your melancholy by a trip hither ? I can carry you back the latter end of January. Our honest friend, the little Persona Dramatis j will I suppose be with you at Christmas, or rather 209 is with you already, as I judged hy Athelstaris going to be put in rehearsal. Remember me kindly to him ; and tell him I suppose it was not on the invi tation of a Muse, but rather of a Grace, that he has been kept so long at Newcastle. LETTER LXXX1X, XxAD not your genius detected you, you Would otherwise have been found out by me. To "have hid yourself in the crowd of those who call themselves one's friends^ yOu should have employed that sobriety and retenue which you so finely cele brate, instead of that profusion of heart, which belongs but to one friend in an age, and so distin guishes him from every body else. The publick will have it that I wrote this Dissertation myself; which, was it not for the malignity of the compliment, I •should receive with much satisfaction. L If Mr. Balguy knows that I am let into' the secret, let him understand how kindly I take his part in it. - I dare say it will have the effect of Ithuriel's spear, the best effect I could wish it, of restoring the Remarkerto his real form. Prior-Park, December 29th, 1155. 210 LETTER XC. December 30th, j.155., WHO they are of Jortiris friends you have met with, I don't know ; but they must be dirty fellows indeed who can think I have no reason to complain of his mean, low, and ungrateful conduct towards me ; or that the Pamphlet, which expresses so much resentment of it, was of my writing. Jortin is himself as vain as he is dirty, to imagine I am obliged to him for holding his hand. And per haps, if the truth were known, it was to this. inso lence he must ascribe the seventh Disseriatiflft. No body has yet written against me, but at their own expence ;s and if he be a gainer, I will forgive him. The profusion of compliment in the Disser tation is so greatj^thatfiemustbe very malignant who can suppose jl gave it to myself; and, at the same time, so warm, that he inust be very dull, not to see it came from a generous and zealous friend. Whoever he be, I envy him, that he has got the start of me ; and that it was not my good fortune ¦to do that for him, which he has, donefor me; that is to say, give a seasonable! reproof to little tow envy under the mask of friendship. And I -wish you would take an opportunity to say all this> from me, and in my name, to those friends of Dr. Jortin. I am, &c. , 2U LETTER XCI. AS to old Maynard, perhaps you may under stand him best by comparison. He and Whitlock were both Lawyers of family, and in the Long Par liament^ both of the Presbyterian faction; both learned and eminent in their profession ; moderate, $age, and steady. So far they agreed.: In this they differed; Maynard had strong parts, with a serious modesty ; Whitlock was weak and vain ; and, by these defects only, more self-interested. A sense of honour made Maynard stick to the Presby terian faction, and to fall with them ; but, as he had much phlegm and caution, not, hkeHollis and Stapleton, to fall for them. So that he was never marked out by the Independents for their first sacrifices. On the contrary; Whitlock forsook; his party in distress, ; but, as he had the other's moderation, k was by slow arid gentle degrees; and so,, tas it happened, decently. But fris weakness, and vanity,; which exposed him to the gross flattery of, the Independent leaders, had at least an equal share in this with his selfishness, which made him follow their power. From this, time, he was with every party that was uppermost- so that by the tune. .¦ the.: King came' in, he was grown so con temptible, rather than obnoxious (for he never P2 212 abused his interest), that he was only fit to be forgot ; though he had had the early friendship of Hyde. While Maynard, by adhering steadily, but not violently, to the party he set out with, was reverenced by all ; and had he not been more intent on the affairs of his profession, than on pub lic business, might have become considerable by station. He went through the whole reign of Charles and James II. with the same steady pace, and the same adherence to his party : but by his party I rather mean Presbytery for the sake of civil liberty, than to civil liberty for the sake of Presbytery. He lived, you know, to see the Revo lution, and made that fine reply to the Prince of Orange's compliment — from whence you might take occasion to lay the scene in the evening of that day. It is natural to suppose two or three °f his intimates of the young Lawyers came that evening to compliment him on the credit he had done their profession at that audience. My dearest friend, how kind are your congratu lations on my son ! If he lives to be brought up in the fear of God, and the love of good men, like you, he is then to be reckoned amongst those true blessings which Providence has so largely bestowed on me. I propose to be in town in about ten days time. I hope warm weather will soon come on, to bring you thither in your way to the sea, and to turn in to Bedford Row, where a College preparation shall 213 be made for you ; that is to say, a bed, a dish of tea, and a piece of mutton, while you stay with us. Prior-Park, May 8th, 175.6. LETTER XCIL Mr. HURD to Dr. WARBURTON. Cambridge, December 30th, 1756. REV. SIR, 1 HAVE so many things to thank you for in your favour of the 25th, that I hardly know which to begin with first. I take that which interestSiine most, I mean your projected Preface to the secorid volume of the Legation. If the former is to be only displaced, I have no objection. But if you mean to leave it quite out, I cannot easily give my assent. I know that a great part of it was chiefly proper to the time. And Webster you think top insignificant (if, besides, the poor man were not disabused before now) to have this distinction con tinued to him. Yet, for all this, I shall regret the loss. I think it, in point of writing, one of your master-pieces. The paragraph to the memory of Bishop Hare is so fine in itself, and lets one into so 214 much of your own friendly temper, that I would riot part with it. Arid the concluding page to the Universities flatters me, as a Member of one of them, to that degree, that I must needs wish to preserve that. 'Tis true you have been ill recom- penced for the noblest compliment that ever was paid them. Many individuals, at least, of both Universities, have shewn how., little they deserved this honour. But the rising generation, I trust, will be wiser. I can assure you that the more in genious and promising of those that are getting up in this place are much devoted to you. Your books are in their hands, and they value themselves upon the esteem they have for them. On this account, I cannot enough rejoice at your editions of our two great Poets. Young people will be reading such things ; and the acquaintance they make by this means with their Commentator leads them after* wards much further. I know this by some expe» rience. At the same time^ I must own to you, my own case was different ; and having this occasion-to Speak of it, I will tell you what it was. For the first years of my residence in the Univer* sity, when I was labouring through . ther: usual courses of Logic, Mathematics, and Philosophy,' I heard little of your name and Writings : and the little I did hear, was not 'likely to encourage! a young man, that was under direction, to enquire further after either. In the mean time, I grew up into the use of a little common sense ; my commerce 215 with the people of the place was" enlarged. Still the clamours increased against you, and the ap pearance of your seeond volume opened many mouths. I was then Batchelor of Arts; and, having no immediate business on my hands, 1 was led, by a spirit of perverseness* to see what there Was; in these decried: volumes, that had given such offence. ... . . To say the truth, there had befen so much ap parent bigotry and insolence in the invectives I had heard, though echoed, as was said, from men of note atoongst us, that I wished, perhaps out of pure spite, to -find them ill-foubded. And I doubt I was half determined in vour favour before I knew. any thing of the merits of the case. - The. effect of all this was, that I took the Divine Legation down with me into the country, where I was going to spend the summer of, I think, 1741, with my friends. I there read the three volumes at roy leisure, and with the impression I shall never forget. I returned to College the Winter following, not so properly your convert, as all over spleen and prejudice against your detainers,. From that time, I think, I ato to date my friendship with you. There was something in your mind, still more than in.thematter of your book, that struck me. In a word, 1 grew, a constant reader of you. I enquired after your Other works. I got the Alliance into my hands, and met with the Essay on Portents and Prodigies, which last I liked tine better, and jstill 216 like it, because I understood it was most abused by those who owed you no good-will. Things were in this train when the Comment on Pope appeared. That Comment, and the connexion I chanced then to have with Sir Edward Littleton, made me a poor critic: and in that condition you found me. I became, on the sudden, your acquaintance; and am now happy in being your friend. — You have here a slight sketch of my history ; at least, of the only part of it which will ever deserve notice. But in giving it I have wandered too far from my pur pose, to which I return. As I said, I canaot easily bring myself to give up the old Preface. Otherwise, this; has the advantage greatly in many respects. Taylor is a more creditable dunce than Webster ; and the subject is not so per sonal as the other. As to the manner of introducing it, I can trust your judgment to choose the best. I cannot but think what you mention an extremely proper one. But of this I cannot determine so well, as I have not seen the Discourse itself. But, by the way, what do you think to do with the Ap pendix to this volume against Tillard and Sykes ? I would not lose them on any account. And why might not Taylor rank with them ? After all, keep me but the old Preface in some shape or other, and • I will have no dispute with you about the place. You have my best thanks for your observations on the second volume, I need not say how much it natters my vanity and my laziness to find them 217 so lew. But what I have most reason to value my self upon, is in reprobating, as I had done in my own mind, the two notes you lay your finger upon. lam certainly, I begin to say to myself, a no de spicable critic, that have so true a judgment in discerning my own faults. You had never given me the least hint of them ; yet they were both in my thoughts when I said there were some things in this second volume to strike out. — You see how- arrogant I am in taking the merit of this censure to myself. The supplement to the Discourse on Poetical Imi tation, is not, I am afraid, what you would expect from it.— By the way, your hint from Tacitus fur nishes a fine example of what I much wanted. — To save myself trouble, and to give it the air of dgrhnent, which the fastidious, you know, look for in these matters, I have thrown it into a letter at the end of the volume, and have addressed it to Mr. Mason, be cause I had a mind to give him this little mark of my esteem. I fancy you will have no objection to this form (and the rather, as the insertion of three or four sheets would hurt the order of the other dis course, which besides is already too long) ; and for what is wanting in the matter, if the form will not excuse that defect, J know you will easily supply t it.— I am, &c R. HURD. BIB LETTER XCni. Prior-Park, January 3d, 1757. YOUR 4ittie History is very dear to me, though it calls the sins of my youth to remem brance. I was very much a boy when I wrote that ' thing about Prodigies, and I had never the courage to look into it sirice ; so I have quite forgot all the nonsense that it contains. But since you mention it, I will tell you how it came te see the light. I met many years ago with an ingenious Irishman at a Coffee-house near Gray's-Inn, where I lodged. He studied the law, and was very poor. I had given him money for mariy a dinner ; and, at ksfy I gave him those papers, which he sold to the booksellers for more money than you would think, much more than they were worth. But I must finish the history both -of the Irishman and th& papers. Soon after, he got acquainted with Sir William Younge, wrote for Sir Robert, and was made Attorney-General of Jamaica : he married there an opulent widow, and died very rich a few years ago here in England ; but of so scoundrel a temper, that he avoided ever coming into my sight: so that the memory of all this intercourse between us has been buried in silence till this moment. 219 And who should this man be but one of -the heroes 'of the Dunciad, Concannen by name ! The papers had a similar fortune. A few years before Curl's death, he wrote me a letter to acquaint me he had bought the property of my excellent Discourse ; and that, as it had been long out of print, he was going to re-print it r only he desired to know if I had any additions or alterations to make, he should be glad of the honour of receiving them* The writer, and the contents of his letter, very much alarmed me ; so I wrote to Mr. Knapton to go to the fellow, and buy my own book of him again, which he did ; and so ended this ridiculous affair, which may be a warning to young scribblers. I had passed a thorough condemnation on the Preface; but on your pleading for this culprit, 1 have looked at it. I don't know what to say. If I can make any - thing of it, and reform it to my mirid, and you be really in earnest, it may stand. If this should be the case, which nothing but your authority could induce me to thirik of, then I pro pose to put Taylor into a Preface to the second part : for, if you observe, I begin upon anew subject, and it is much better divided than the first volume. 220 LETTER XCIV. Mr. HURD to Dr. WARBURTON. Cambridge, January 9th, 1757. YOU may be sure I was not a little pleased with the home things you say in your letter to — . I could not resist the temptation of taking a, copy of the first part of it. You will guess for what reason, and will excuse the liberty. I wonder yoUr corre spondent could be so much off his guard as to give you such an opening. It was very indiscreet to bring you and his politicians so near together. 1 honour your frankness in telling him so roundly what you thought of the latter. , , Your generosity to the Dunciad-hero exemplifies the just observation you make in the letter to the Editor of the three Letters, " that excess, though " in the social passions, lays us more open to popu- « lar censure than even the total want of them." I say this the rather, because your calumniators, you may be sure, have not failed to buzz about this quondam connection with a man who so little de served the honour of it. But the triumphs of such men are ever owing to their dulness or their mean ness. The latter is the case at present. Having 221 no affections themselves, it is no wonder they are not liable to such illusions ; and judging from them selves, it is no wonder they condemn in others what they have not hearts good enough to under stand. For, as the virtuous Cowley said well— Th' heroic exaltations of good Are so far from understood We count them vice — We look not upon virtue in her height, On her supreme idea, brave and bright > In the original light : But as her beams reflected pass Thro' our nature, or ill custom's glass. And now let your revilers make their best of yoiiir acquaintance with Matthew Concannen, Esq. . But I have more to say to your quondam Author ship. You have a right to undervalue your first at tempts in literature as much as you please. The so much greater things you have done since, are your warrant for so doing. But I should not be very pa tient of this language from any other. The truth is, and I am not afraid to say it roundly to any man : not one of all the wretches that have written or rail against you, and who affect to find great consolation in this first escape of your pen, was ever able in the acme of his parts and judgment to produce any thing half so good. Mr. Balguy and I read it to gether some years ago, and we agreed there was the same ingenuity of sentiment and vigour of expres sion as in your other works ; in a word, that it was a fine effort of genius, not yet formed indeed and 222 ' matured, but even in this juvenility portending plainly enough what you were one day to be capable of. I have read it again very lately, and I think of it just the same ; sq that I almost blame your anxiety about Curl's edition. It was not worth, , perhaps, your owning in form. But your reputation was not concerned to suppress, if . One sees in it ypury early warmth in the cause of virtue and public li berty, and your original way of striking out new hints on common subjects. There are many fine' observations up and; down ; amongst which, that hi the Dedication, on the characters of the three great Romans," which you have since adopted, in the notes on Pope, "is admirable. In running it" over this, last time, I find I have stolen a hint from jfoii which I was not aware of. It is what I say of the Apes of Plato and Aristotle, irt page jg of the Com mentary on the Epistle to Augustus, taken from what you say in page 9 on that subject. I should not have said so much on this matter (for I am as much above the thought of fkfterihg you, as you are above the. want of it) but that I think your shyness in ac knowledging this little prolusion of your genius, gives a handle to your low malignant cavillers, which you need not have afforded them. I must further request it of you, as a favour, that, if KnapT ton has not destroyed the coplfes, you would oblige me with half a dozen, or so, which you may trust me to dispose of in a proper manner. I ask it the rather, because 1 could never get one into my own 223 possession. I have tried several times, and now very lately this winter out of Baker's sale ; but it was bought up before I could order it. Such a curiosity have both your friends and enemies to treasure up this proscribed volume. I have thought again of this Preface to the second volume of the Legation. I think it not so proper to introduce it before the second part. 1 am, be sides, afraid of your altering it too much; Twill tell you then what has come into my head. When one 'of these days you make a complete collection of your Works, ;you must by all means put together your controversial pieces by themselves. They, will make, I believe, about a couple of volumes ; and this Preface may come in amongst the rest, entire, as it now stands under the title of ff The Preface to "the first edition of the second volume in 1740," I think thiSj proposal, on all accounts, .the best. And then Taylor may stand where you first de- signed? and where indeed he will figure to most ad- Vantage. Pray tell me immediately what you think of this proposal. I, shall perhaps write again in a post or twbr; !for 1 have other matters to trouble you with, in, abun dance. But I have tired you pretty well for the present. R. HURD. 224 LETTER XCV. YOU will always do well to take what copies of any papers I send you, you see proper. Those villains, if any such there be, who upbraid me with my acquaintance and correspondence with the gen tlemen of the Dunciad, know I at the same time proclaimed it to the world in Tibbald's edition of Shakespear, in Mr. Pope's life-time. — Till his Let ters were published, I had as indifferent an opinion of his morals as they pretended to have. Mr. Pope knew this, and had the justice to own to me that I fairly followed appearances, when I thought well of them, and ill of him. He owned indeed that on read ing that edition, he was sorry to find a man of genius got amongst them, for he told me he was greatly struck with my notes. This conversation happened to pass in company, on one of them saying, they Wondered I would give any thing to such a fellow as Tibbald : Mr. Pope said immediately, there was no wonder at all : I took him for an honest man, as he had, done, and on that footing had visited him— and then followed what I relate above. This was the only time the subject ever came upon the tapis. For he was too delicate to mention any thing of it to me alone. 225 I am glad you consent to my first thoughts of omitting the former short Preface, at present at least. As Cibber supplied the* place of Tibbald (whom we have been talking of), so shall Taylor take place of Webster, though I will tell you my mind sincerely, I do not think he has nearly so goorl an understanding as Webster. But it requires an in finitely better than either of them has to understand this plainest of truths, that the most learned Dunce, when, or wherever, he exists, remains still the same Dunce in which he came into the world. I will not forget your fond request, when I see Mr. Knapton. You will be pleased when I tell you that I am vigorously engaged both in the second and last volume of the Divine Legation. 1 am correcting the second, and regulating the whole plan of the third. The second part of the second especially will be new run and new founded; and what the Babbins say of Aaron's foundery will,- I hope, be reversed ; and that which went in a calf, will come out a man. But what is man ! A fit of spleen, & fit of illness, arid lastly death may wipe out all these glorious visions with which my brain at present is painted over : as Law said it once was (but falsely) with hieroglyphics. But I hope the best, becausfe I only aim at the honour of God and good of man. When I say this, I need not perhaps add (as I do with- the utmost seriousness) that I shall never 226 wittingly advance one falsehood, or conceal or dis guise one truth. I hope I need not say that hearing from you always gives me the greatest pleasure. I believe, I and my wife shall set forward for London in the beginning of February. Mr. Allen, I suppose, not till the beginning of March. He is afraid of the smell of the paint. I think I can say what I have to say about similar rites and customs (at the end of the first part) in a reasonable compass. It will, consist only of a num ber of instances of similar customs of a striking nature, which all would judge imitations and tra- diicfive, if that system be the true : yet, by reason of the distance of place, the parties being utter strangers to- one another, the circumstances of societies, the interests of the bodies practising, the evidence of the passions, situations, conditions^ &c. which gave birth to them, we must needs pronounce no imitations. The consequence is, that, the general solution of this phenomenon is in our common nature. Whether you will like this plan, I know not. For I have no more to say. You have been beforehand with me in delivering the philosophic principles of these conclusions, though on a more particular question, poetical imitation. However pray tell me what you think of it. If you don't thoroughly approve of it, pray say so ; for I should be glad to be excused the trouble, when I have so. many other parts of the 227 book to retouch. I can tell you beforehand this will be to yours, what Pope's Essay on Women is to his Essay on Man. Prior-Park, January 12th, 1757, LETTER XCVI. I HAVE received your little packet: I trust to your judgment about the quotation. Without affectation, I don't remember a single thought irt that little essay, having never looked into it since the time of publishing it. I remem ber, the Speaker (who had the curiosity to have it bought for him at an auction) spoke to me of it in his bombast way ; but I thought no better of it for that, because I imagined the turgidness of a young scribbler might please his magnificent spirit, always upon the stilts. You have so well polished Virgil's Shield, that it is yours of right ; and I desire you will give me leave to quote it from you. You have so well entered irito my idea of the cal- lida junctura, that I think it excellent. I could riot forbear sending you a fine spirited dialogue from a comedy of Shirley, called " The Changes, or Love in a Maze." You will be pleased with it; but not so with the introduction to it: because I take occasion from your note of thejunc- <*2 228 tura to introduce it, when, on reflection, it h$$ little or nothing to do with it. But the humour of the dialogue will amuse you. I am more satisfied with another scrap of paper I send ypu for your Dialogue on the Constitution; where I endeavour to obviate an objection that might, be retorted on your main principle. You may venture the freedom of it in the mouth of a Maynard. I think your emendation of shuts for shakes, is excellent and incontestable. It clears up what stuck so much with me — the tyrannous breathing of the North. Had Jortin played the hypercritic in this manner, the world would have suspected' that I had other reasons of my complaints besides want of friendship. What you say of Heathcote is exactly right. His matter is rational, but superficial and thin spread, He will prove as great a scribbler as Comber. They are both sensible, and both have reading. The difference is, that the one has so much vivacity as to make him ridiculous ; the other so little, as to be unentertaining. Comber's excessive vanity may be matched by Heathcote's pride ; < which I think is a much worse quality — if we may call these] two qualities, when they arise from the same root, ¦ and Only receive this circumstantial diversity froiaj the different tempers of the subject ; it beipg, in a good-natured man, what we call vanity, in an ill-natured man, pride. Pray ask our friend of ft! 229 John's' whether my metaphysiGO-ethicai philosophy be right. He is one of the -best judges I know* because I think he has of this quality, or qualities, neither root nOr branch. And he has waded yery far irito the great latrina of humanity, without suffering himself to be defiled in the passage :.; he has been orily too insensible of the insults of the scavengers that came in his way. / Prior-Park', January 1 5th, "1151. LETTER XC vii. Mr.. itURD to Dr. WAUBURTOtf. NOTHING can be kinder than your two favours of the 12th and 15th. I begin with the last, first. i . You are very good tp let me ' have, my humour* in the little quotation. To say the truth!, my only end in it is to gratify toy own spleen. I would give a pack of wretches to understand^ that your friends can appeal to'' the Essay as well las they. And when they know this, they will be sensible perhaps of the impotency of their malice, iif of nothing ejse. I like the Speaker's judgment 230 very well. I did not think he had read his Mil ton to so good purpose. You are too polite, as well as too kind for me. Since you will have it so, the Shield shall pass as my property. I often think of the old fable, so well told in Mr. Allen's picture. What a figure should I make, if my feathers were well plucked -) 'Tis true, I have this consolation : there would be none but Eagle's feathers found upon me. You flatter me in saying, I have entered into your idea of the callida junctura. I thought, from looking into Dacier, that it wanted explana tion. But I never send a hint to you without being a gainer by it. The short dialogue yOu transcribe from Shirley is incomparable. -It will make a fine conclusion to my note, arid shall stand instead of the two paltry observations I make on the subject of it. The remark will be new too, as well as pertinent. I doubt you are too indulgent to the hypercritical emendation. It is taking an extravagant liberty with the text. But I take for granted you see no^ thing absurd, at least, in the conjecture, or you would have mentioned it. So it shall e'en stand where it does, as it will help to enliven a little a very dry note. I am mightily pleased with your objection to my main principle, and your answer to it. It is a very material consideration ; and you may be sure I shall make my best use of it. I understand your polite 231 hint to Mr. Balguy, and shall acquaint him with it._ I come now to your other letter. — I am proud of " the liberty you give me of copying any of your papers. I promise you, it shall not be my fault/ if any improper use be ever made of them. , I am ready to quarrel with you for saying one word of your upbraiders. This was not treating^ me with your usual goodness. Alas, I understand the condition of these poor creatures so well, that if yOu would be ruled by me, you should ,nots deprive them of this little ' consolation of their envy. I know, too, the reason of your former * distaste to Mr. Pope. It was not only his con nexions with some you had reason to think ill of, but his abuse of one you loved. Was not this the best of reasons? Yet it could nOt be but that two such men would come at length to understand - each other. And when you did, Nature had taken care that you should be fast friends for life. But your worthless enemies are as quick at espying ; contradictions in your life, as in your writings,^ And the cause is not unlike. They want hearts "' to understand a consistency in moral action ; just as their bad heads will not let them find out a consistency in rational discourse. The more I think of it, the more I am satisfied with Taylor's allotted station in the new edition- — $edet aeternumque sedebit. —Yow. may be sure I ' subscribe to your aphorism. 232 I shall re^y on your thinking, of me when you gee Mr. Knapton. Lhaye a deal of the Speaker's curio^ sky. I would have every thing that you. have ever- 'written.in my possession. Nothing but the love of, order (as, befits a.go.od, Critic.) could. have kept me from, touching on,the paragraph I, now come to, first, You delight me above measure ip saying that you, are vigorously employed, about the third volume of the- Legation. Ldp not expect tp see all your plans filled, up, For»r besides that ypuhaye. many upon your hanffs, you will ajways be forming new onps^ But thjs -favourite, this capital one, must be.* completed, It signifies-, littie( that; people clamour for.it, apd expect. ft, You owe itto yourself,; to v truth, and to posterity. You,. think it immaterial .perhaps that this monument, of] yourself should be, entire. And. the Virtuosi^ for, any thing I know, might like it the better for its not being so. But who hereafter will , be able to throw those, lights on Religion which these prepara tory volupes now enable you to throw, upon it? And, would you envy these lights, ; to the ages> t need of them! I only put these questions,, to shew,. you that nothing in my opinion deserves, so. much., the whole .stretch and application of your parts .and industry tp finish* as -this,, great work, Ldare say.. you will make great improvements in:.the^ othety volumes ; for you speak of great alterations. But: ,233 the completion > of this last, is your life'*' instant business. And again I must express my delight at your saying, that it shall not be deferred. As for the discourse on similar rites and citstoms, I think it of great importance and curiosity. And what you design upon the subject is fully sufficient. The philosophy of that question will of course be explained in illustrating your instances. The true principle was delivered in that famous paragraph in the' Divine Legation, which -Middleton in a testy humour bit at, and broke his teeth upon. You love tp be complaisant to your friends. But all my wordy Dissertation is only a hint catched from youj and applied to a single inconsiderable subject. You will now consider it in a much larger arid nobler view. Besides, is it for me to prevent you on any subject by the chance of writing on it first ? I most firmly believe your generous declaration, that you shall never wittingly advance one false hood, or conceal or disguise one truth. And this it is which, besides some tender regards of another nature, makes, me so anxiously wish that your health and spirits may hold out with' your designs. If is a serious truth, that the brightest visions that were ever painted on the human understanding are liable to many- accidents. But your age, your vigo rous constitution, but- above all your serene and .happy life, disturbed by none of those great or little passions which make such; ravages in other minds, are so many ner ; they are now at it ; and I keep my room with such low spirits that it will be charity to write to me ; for I hope yours is grown better. Prior-Park, April 2d, 1758. 265 LETTER CXIX. My dear Mr. Hurd, YOU know there is to the first volume of the Divine Legation in the last edition, the Preface reprinted to the first edition. I have' thoughts of doing the same thing to the second volume now coming out, that is, giving what I call the Preface to the first edition ,of it. I have inclosed it, as I would have it appear. Pray communicate it to Mr. Balguy : if you approve of the project, pray send it back by the -return of the post : if you do not, it shall not be printed. Ever entirely yours, W. WARBURTON. Prior-Park, April 10th. 266 LETTER CXX. Weymouth, September 3d, 1758. I RECEIVED yours of the loth at this place; where I came last week for a fortnight's retirement? but the Cherbourg expeditioners being twice drove in hither by contrary winds, Mr. Allen's hospitality has made this house an Inn for Generals and Colo nels ever since I came. Sometimes I dine with them, and sometimes I do not ; just as my disgust to the Barbarians rises or abates. The hours so dis agreeably lost are regretted when they are gone; and not, like -yours*, lost Without regret ; for that I take to be the meaning of your lose an^t neglect the Creeping hours of time. You think so justly and generously of the foolish. Estimator and his mean rascally railers, that I shall tell him what you say. I am glad you have done the discourse on Chi valry ; for this looks as if you was got forward with the Dialogues. Pray let Mr. Nevile know how much I am pleased with his approbation. We all rejoice in your promise of a winter's visit. Louisbourg is an important conquest ; it will strengthen Mr. Pitt, and enable him to struggle, more successfully against corruption. 267 If you was here, you would see how I have scrib bled over the margins of Tindara " Christianity as old as the Creation." I think I have him as sure as I had Collins : that is, overturn the pillars of this famous edifice of impiety : which all the writers against him hitherto have left standing; busying themselves only to untile his roof. This is my pre sent amusement for a fortnight at Weymouth. — I shall return in three or four days; I think this place does not agree with my health. I am greatly op pressed with drowsiness every afternoon, which I ascribe to the sea air, or to Tindal. Let it be which it -will, it is time for me to leaye them both. The family will follow in ten days or a fortnight. Your friend is extremely recovered by sea water and sea bathing. The boy is in great spirits. His amuse ments here, these two last Summers, have been very elegant, in music and painting. Last year he was enamoured of Dr. Browne's fiddle-stick; at present he is equally taken with Mr. Hoare's pencil; who is here, to draw a picture of Mr. Allen for the Exeter Hospital, to which he has been a benefactor pf some land and houses. _ Next month I go to London. But I shall not live to my satisfaction till I see you at Prior-Park on my return thither. 268 LETTER CXXI. Prior-Park, September 18th, 1758. I HOLD it a kind of impiety to be accessary in stopping that implement of mischief, the press, while it is repairing the ravages it daily causes to sense arid virtue ; and therefore I have not deferred to answer your queries. . I have nothing at hand to assist me but that miserable farrago, called the " Continuation of Ra^ pin," by Tindal and Birch ; however, this, I be lieve, is sufficient for our purpose. Burnet was consecrated Bishop of Salisbury, March 31st, 16*89. Toleration Act had the Royal Assent .May 24th, 16*89. The Convention Par liament offered the Crown to William and Mary, February 13th, 16*88-9, on which day they were proclaimed. On the 23d of February, which was ten days after, this Convention was, by Act, changed info a Parliament, commencing from that important 13th. On April 11th, 16*89, William and Mary were crowned. Laying all this together, I conclude that Maynard. was appointed Commissioner some time between February 13th, and the end of March; certainly before the Coronation. For these great 269 Historians, speaking of the new forming the Go vernment in the Constitution of the Ministry, the appointment of Maynard Commissioner, and the filling the Bench of Judges, conclude in these Words, — " All these employments were disposed of, "at several times, within the space of two months." Now, reckoning from February 13 th, it brings us to April 13th. So there seems to be no doubt but Maynard was Commissioner at the Coronation, for thjs was one of the necessary Officers in the pro- Cession. Could Birch himself now have settled an im portant point of chronology better ? I went through Birmingham, in my way up, in hopes to see Mrs. Hurd, but was much disap pointed ; word was brought me back that she was not in town ; so I only stayed to change horses. I imagine the place she chooses to live at (which is very natural) is near your elder Brother's. Job becomes now as much the subject of Disser tations abroad as he has been at home ; and I am wrote against on the Continent both in French and Latin ; but with more decency than here at home ialBuIingsgate and English. ' Poor- Erasmus, after "all his undeserved abuse, has just now found two Historians to record those abuses ; Burigny in French, and your old friend Jortin (I call him yoUrs, for you took him off my hands,; when services could not mend him, to try if just ;and; delicate reproof could) ; I would halve 27& yott read these performances : I dare say they will amuse you. Burigny's is well written, which I have read ; and so I dare say will Jortiris be, which I have not read. Though from the rancour of his heart, I predict it will be full of oblique reflections, and, if you judge from his motto, full of self-im portance* But what is all this to you and me, while we continue happy in one another ? Take care of your health, is my constant admonition ; arid then every thing that a wise man can desire, will follow of course. P. S. I believe I shall stay here till about the middle of next month, and then for the delicious attendance at Kensington. LETTER CXXII. YOUR last letter sets thepoor maris criticise* in a veiy ridiculous light, but certainly not a false! one. How doubly ridiculous must it be, if it be groundless ; which it certainly is ; and which' you partly hint at. It stands on this grammatical prin ciple, that if one Latin- adjective cannot be used adverbially, rio other, of what are called the syno* nymous adjectives, can ; which is false in almost every language. I told you he was ashamed of Q* himself. I made him so by writing a letter to his bookseller, to be communicated to him, to shew him a true picture of himself, by setting together our different conduct to one another. I said, this. required no answer. However, I had one, which shewed how glad he was to get out of the scrape. When I come home I, will send them to you, as I can then do, franked. However, I must not at present omit one particular in mine, to Whiston. Speaking of his paltry joke of est genus homivmm, 8§c. which, I say, -" after it had been so much worn " by frequent application to many of my betters, " might as well have been omitted." I add, " I. ef will requite his kindness of princeps Plato, but " in a more secret way, by observing to him only, " that where at p. 114 he translates the words of " Bembus, a pud inferos poena, by the, pa'ms of " hell, Jie should have said, the poms, of purga- " tory, as Indulgenzes were from the pains of pp-y-? " gatory^ and not of hell ; and as Bembus's apud " inferos contained both a hell and a purgatory." I did this to intimate to him that his Translations were full of mistakes, and that this was a gross one, for a man to undertake the Life of Erasmus, while he was ignorant of the nature and application of the Bulls of Indulgences. I own I was well enter tained with this Life, and so I told Whiston : but the publick think otherwise of it. The want of a plan and method in the composition has given a general disgust. They say, if you take away bis 272 translation of Le Clerc, and his numerous quota tions, you leave him nothing but his notes. This seems to be the general voice. The consequence is, it does not sell. What has increased the public ill- humour, is its being only one volume of a work, which, in the public advertisements, was denounced as complete. — But, too much on so ridiculous a subject. I am sorry you are not so forward at the press as I imagined : why I was for having it come out be fore Christmas, was because many thirigs will pour out from the press after the holydays. I shall be here till about the 22d of next month. How are your motions regulated, and when are we to expect you at Prior-Park ? And from what quarter do you proceed to us ? God bless you. You know how happy your letters always make me : and you be lieve, I hope (my dearest Friend), that no we was ever, more another's, than lam yours, W. WARBURTON. Grosvenor-Square, October 23d, 1758. 273 LETTER CXXIII. Grosvenor-Square, November 25th, 1758. 1 HAVE been in your debt ever since the receipt of your last of the 28th; but would dis charge it before I left London, from whence I am hastening with one foot in the post-chaise. I have not forgot to take down with me what is already printed off of your Dialogues. The Session is just opened : it is likely to prove a quiet one. The successes of this last year seem to have damped that spirit of envy, which Mr* Pjjtt's superior virtues had raised from the soil of corrup tion, and ready (as it was said) to break upon his "head. A ridiculous' accident happened not long ago, which is likely to prove a serious one to the party concerned. Lady Betty Waldegrave, one of the Ladies of the Bed-chamber, wrote to her Husband, in Germany, in a very free manner, of all the in trigues of Court and Parties, in which Mr. Pitt is mentioned more to his honour than certain persons cared to hear. By ill luck, the dispatches, in which was this letter, were intercepted. It was signed only E. W- and the direction lost. The French mistook it for a fetter of the Countess of Yarmouth, T 274 and as such, published, and cried it abput at the Hague. You may judge what alarm this1 gave at Court ; and what apprehensions and uneasiness to the party concerned. LETTER CXXIV. Prior-Park, December 14th, IT 5 8. I HAVE your favour of the 8th, and rejoice to hear that all most dear to you are well. — I took down with me, as I told you, all that you had printed, to the 20 8th page. If the Work does not tak^e, I shall think the times abandoned to their evil genius. I have read to the 1 16th page, and find not a word to alter. Had I experienced (in reading my own Works, or my friends') the task of altera tion and amendment endless, I should have con cluded this talent in me, such as it is, to be at best but an exuberance of fancy and conceit, working to no end, but the discharge of itself. But since I have found that when your Works or mine are brought up to a certain degree, the vein of criticism dries up, and flows no more, I, flatter myself it may be founded in sense and nature: and I am ready to apply to my criticism what Mr. Pope said of his morals : " A lash like mine no honest man shall dread, • " But all such babbling blockheads in hia stead." 275 I have here inclosed you the. two letters 1 pro mised. The poor unhappy man concerned in them is fallen into one of his dreadful fits of melancholy, as I am told ; whether for the ill success of his book, which is fallen into general contempt, which it does not deserve, or for what other cause I know not. I should not leave this foolish subject without observing one thing, the excessive meanness of Jor tin, and the excessive malignity of his friends, who could think it possible that I could have any hand in' a piece of irony where I am so excessively ex tolled and adorned ; yet this appears by his letter to have been the case. This, of all their iniquitous behaviour to me, is the last thing I could forgive; as it was endeavouring to make me both odious and ridiculous, in an age that will not allow a man to say the least good of himself, and will hardly bear to hear it from another. I toay send you, or shew you, another conflict of a different kind. One Mr. Jane, a student and tu tor of Christ Church (a man, as Dr. Nichols tells me, of whom I inquired, many years very respect able for his piety, learning, and great sequestration of himself), wrote me an expostulatory letter in the very spirit of Methodism. You will not be sur prised that I should give much offence to this rigid piety ; but you will never guess what he picked out to declare his abhorrence of. It was this passage in the Dedication: Those whom their profession has dedicated to this service, experience has taught, 5fc. t 2 276 —-He. is scandalized that a Minister of Christ should be supposed busied in pushing his fortune, but. towards the Cross ; or that he can desire to figure any where but in Heaven. There were the marks of great candour and goodness throughout the Let-, ter : and it struck my fancy to try whether I could not soften and humanize a little this atrocious virtue; which I attempted to do in a very long answer. Cox was admitted Prebendary last August. I did not mention it to you, because I took it for granted you did not want to be told that he was the man for whom the promise was made to Lord Hard- wieke, of which the Keeper informed Mr. Allen. On second thoughts, I have sent you a copy* of the Letter I mentioned above, that you may see and admire my proficiency in the art of conciliating the good-will of those I would cajole ; and laugh at my absurdity in choosing to exercise it on this honest Christ Church Student, instead of Ministers of State. * This copy does not appear among my Papers. But the Letter was written with wonderful softness and condescension, ' and had the effect proposed. The good man entertained, ever after,, the greatest veneration for Dr. Warburton, and shewed it on all occasions when he was Bishop of Gloucester j by which time, Mr. Jane had been preferred by his College to the Rectory of Iron- Acton, in that Diocese. H. ¦277 LETTER CXXV. Prior-Park, January 30th, 1159, I HAVE received two kind letters from ypp. As to the first, you will always have your own way, and what is more provoking, you will insist upon your being in the right. I am sorry your Papers are not yet found. — If Gale's reason for the spuriousness of the Charter be only the rarity of it, it is true Antiquarian Criticism, and deserves no other notice than to be laughed at. Hpwever, the Charter is, undoubtedly, very an- cierit ; and the forger, if such he was, followed custom and the common idea of Bastardus, which is enough for your purpose ; so if you will repript the leaf, you will have matter enough for a note both serious and comic. Browne, I find, pursues his system-r-to talk magnificently; and act, now extravagantly, and now again meanly. As to my letters to Middleton, I do not recollect any one word or sentiment of any one letter. Only this I know! I spoke my sentiments freely of men and things, because this is my way: therefore it cannot but be that there must be things in them which will give offence. Yet I can never think 278 that the woman can be so infamous to print them without my leave. I acted very differently by her husband. When her own Bookseller collected a complete Edition of his Works, I gave him, at his request, about a dozen of the Doqtor's letters, care fully purged of domestic matters, and such as might give offence, in order to make men think better both of his moral and religious character. How ever, if the woman be thus prostituted to gain, I must try whether the courts of justice or equity will give me relief, for a violation of the most sacred trust amongst mankind. — The substance of all this I have by this post wrote to Dr. Heberden, desiring him, if there be any truth in this report, he would remonstrate with the widow, with whom, I suppose, he has a particular influence. Another piece of news gives me much more con*- cern, that we shall nOt have Lord Clarendon's History, of an age. Robertson's History is, I think, extremely well written. — It was well observed, that nobody in the Augustan age could conceive that so soon after, a Horse should be made Consul : and yet matters were so well prepared .by the time of Caligula, that nobody was surprised at the matter. So when Clarendon and Temple wrote History, they little thought the time was so near when a vagabond Scot should write nonsense * ten thousand strong. '¦¦ * Smollett's History of England, of which 10,000 copies were said to be sold OiF, the first Edition. H. 279 As you stay till the 5th, I hope I shall get a glimpse of you; for, on the 4th, I shall get to town, when I hope you will dine with me on a single dish, to atone to Philosophy for the Sybaritic dinners of Prior-Park, LETTER CXXVI. Grosvenor-Square, February nth, 1159. THOUGH I do not altogether approve of your modest scheme for the furniture of your house, I altogether dislike your modest scheme for the fu ture furniture of your mind. What you mention are indeed the necessaries of it ; but not so much necessaries for yourself, as necessaries for thepublick, and the foundation of erecting something lasting for their use. — Men are never so fond of moralizing as when they are ill at ease. I hope that is not your case. If it be, you wrong your friend, who has a right to know it, ahd to relieve it. I was in hopes that on coming to Leicester you would have had intelligence of your papers. As that is not the case, you ought immediately to ad vertise them, with a slight reward, as things of no use but to the owner. I can say this, after twenty years' existence, of the sheets of the Divine Lega tion ; and sure you may say it of things not in esse 280 but in posse. However, we will both hope they may be of use to posterity. Seriously, Dr. Birch tells me (for your loss makes much noise, so much does the malignity of men delight in mischance) that 'tis very probable the packet will be presently brought to you by such an advertisement. • Weston, the son of the late Bishop of Exeter, the present Gazetteer by "profession, by inclination a Methodist, and connected with Thomas and Sher-r lock, is writing against my conclusion of the Dedi-! cation to the Jews, concerning Naturalisation. , It seems he wrote in defence of that Bill. The Father Was tutor to Walpole, and the Son is one of his pupils. I am afraid he will be a sharer in that silent contempt with which J treat my answerers. God bless you. You know it is the Court phrase, speaking of some favourite Chaplain, that he should be pushed. I know but of one parson that is capable of being pushed, and that is yourself: everybody else I meet with are full ready to go of themselves, If you be sparing of your letters to me while I am in town, I will call you a niggard, for I am sure that will anger the generosity of your nature most. I have a fine addition to your note on Falkland and Walpole. If you have an opportunity, why should not you use if now ? The addition is occa-r sioned by a silly thing said by Spence in the life of his Taylor, but whose consequences are not trifling; P. S. I am pleased that you are obliged to be at Leicester, and with Mrs. Arnold, till the settled 281 Spring invites you to Thurcaston ; or' Tather till your settled love of us brings you to London, to have one peep more at young Ascanius, and see, before inoculation, " Ecquid in anti'quam virtutem Anirnosque viriles fC Et pater iEneas et Avunculus excitat Hector ?" LETTER CXXVII. I HE loss of your papers is much talked of; for, to borrow a simile from Butier, the Sun is more observed and talked of in an eclipse, than when he shines out. I liave ordered Millar to advertise them. I have inclosed the scrap I talked of. You must polish and reform it to your purpose. You will see there was serious cause for indignation. As to Hume's History, you need not fear the being forestalled by a thousand such writers. But the fear is natural, e^s I have oft felt, and have as oft experienced to be absurd. As to Murden's Papers, you will not find much to your purpose; but as your curiosity will lead you to turn them over, you will be amused with a very extraordinary letter of Mary to Elizabeth, at page 558 ; and I dare say ypu will not think it one of the_ least causes of the fatal catastrophe which soon fol lowed. 284 LETTER CXXVIII. I AM extremely glad you have read Hume. I will say no more , on that subject at present, having inclosed all the hints that occurred to your purpose in reading him. T understand that that passage in the poor crea ture Spence concerning polemics has given general offence. But it was mere chance-medley. Nor do I suppose that the Grandees who are offended at it, know the true grounds of the scandal it so reasonably causes. They think it indecent in himj becayse he is a Clergyman ; we know it is absurd and nonsensical, because he is a Christian. Weston's Title-page to his remarks about the Jews gave me full satisfaction, without looking further. He talks of the future state of the Jews in Judea; and you know I said, that were there any such state to be expected', then indeed their naturalization had nothing offensive in it. This sticks out of the tail of a Millennium. If I ever have occasion, I shall shew it arises only from mistaken notions of the separation of the race of Abraham as favourites of God, one of the chief objections of Infidelity against the Jewish law., But if separated only for the sake of mankind in general, then their share in a Millennium and the objections of Infidelity fall together. 285 LE1TER CXXIX. 1 HAVE sent your Appendix to Bowyer. have just touched it here and there only in the ex pression. If the colouring be uniform with your own,. it is well. However, you will have a proof, to alter as you see fit. I don't know whether you have seen Dr. Young's Conjectures on Original Composition. He is the finest writer of nonsense, of any of this age. And, had he known that original composition consisted in the manner, and not in the matter, he had wrote with common sense, and perhaps very dully under .so insufferable a burthen. But the wisest and kindest part of his work, is advising writers to be original, and not imitators ; that is, to be geniuses rather than blockheads, for I believe no thing but these different qualities made Virgil an original author, and Blackmore an imitator ; for they certainly were borrowers alike. Grosvenor-Square, May 11th, 1159. 286 LETTER CXXX. Durham, July 8th, 175&. I AM riOw in your debt for two kind letters. — You tell me what the Wits say of your book. I suppose you mean those identical Dunces who have heen at war with sense for these last twenty years, as they were with wit for twenty years before. — But these are nibblers at the outside. I can tell you of a London Divine that has gone deeper, and has re turned your book in great rage to the Bookseller, at your first dialogue, for being a professed and la boured apology for insincerity. This occasions great mirth in town. But I am serious upon it. I am afraid that both you and I shall out-live common sense, as well as learning, in our reverend Brotherhood. Here you have a fellow ten thousand times more duncified than dunce Webster ; who might charge me without blushing for his sense, though not for his honesty, with being an advocate for insincerity in the case ofTully. — OftheDiar logues themselves (you say) you hear little or no thing, that is, nothing that your modesty, will let me hear you repeat. As to these Remains of Butler (they are certainly his : but they would not strike the publick, if that 28f fmblick was hOnest. But the publick is a malicious monster, which cares not what it affords to dead merit, soWt can but depress the living. There was something singular in this same Butler. Besides an infinite deal of wit, he had great sense and penetration, both in the sciences and the world. Yet with all this, he could never plan a work, nor tell a story well. The first appears from his Hudi- bras, the other from his Elephant in the Moon. He evidently appears to have been dissatisfied with it, by turning it into long verse : from whence, you perceive, he thought the fault lay in the doggerel verse, but that was his forte ; the fault lay in the manner of telling. Not buthe might have another reason for trying his talents at heroic verse — emula tion. Dryden had burst out in a surprising manner ; and iri such a case, the poetic world (as we have seentWy a later instance) is always full of imitators. But Butler's heroics are poor stuffy indeed only doggerel, made languid by heavy expletives. This attempt in the change of his measure was the sillier, not only as he had acquired a mastery in the short measure, but as that measure, somehow or other, suits best with his sort of wit. His characters are full of cold puerilities, though intermixed with abundance of wit, and with a great deal of good sense. He is sometimes wonderfully fine both in his sentiment and expression ; as "where he defines the proud man to be a fool in fermentation ; and where, speaking Of the Antiquary, he says, he has a great 288 veneration fon words that are stricken in yearsj and are grown so aged that they have out-lived their employments. But the greatest fault in these characters is, that they are a bad and false species of composition. As for his Editor, he is always in the wrong where there was a possibility of his mistaking, f could not but smile at his detecting Pope's plagiarism about the Westphalia hogs, when I reflected, that in a very little time, when the chronology is not well attended to, your fine note about the Ambergris will be understood, by every one, as a ridicule upon it ; and indeed an excellent one it is. Notwithstanding this, I could wish this; fellow would give us a new edition of Hudibras, for the reason he mentions. I received a letter from poor Towne, in which are these words: " I have read Mr. Hurd's,. Dialogues " with much pleasure ; but cannot help thinlong it " a little extraordinary that he should not have made " me a present of his book. As he did not send " the last edition of his Horace after he had pro- " mised to send it, I thought this could be only " ascribed to his forgetfulness. And it would give " me great pleasure to find that this is the case now." And now I am got on transcribing, I will send you a passage or two from some late letters of your female friend at Prior-Park : " I have been reading Mr. " Hurd's Dialogues. The two last are vastly beyond " my reach; In that upon Retirement, our friend " seems to have delineated his own mind, a mind 2S& " which exalts him above Princes." And in another, 1 ' Poor Potter's death has made me a moralist. I " see the vanity of all worldly pursuits. I have " seen a man sacrificing his quiet, his health, and " his fortune, to his ambition, who in the forty-first " year of his age died unpossessed of every comfort " of a rational being. I more than ever revere those for the most important ends and purposes. The conclusion is, the Convocation, by giving up their old right of taxing themselves, seem to have given up their right of meeting and debatesg. At least, it is no wonder the Government showed incjhne to this side ; for let what will be said for freedom of debate in popular councils, no Government, I doubt, is heartily for it, but where it cannot with any safety or convenience be avoided. After all, I find myself, as I said, very much in the dark as to the expediency of these eonvocational meetings. Your Lordship, who comprehends the subject perfectly, will perhaps instruct me to think better of theto ; though it will be goodness enough in you, I believe, to forgive my impertinence in saying so much on a "subject whichT profess to un derstand so little. 313 LETTER CXLV. I THANK you for your last kind letter with out date. You are getting into the taste of Pope, who never dated his letters. I know your drift, and nothing could be more tender. If it was possible that I could love you more than I do, it Would be for this letter. J From a few words that passed on tile subject of Convoca tions, I know you was afraid I might, some time or other, publicly declare myself with more warmth than was fitting, in favour of so- unpopular a thing as C«ny.oeatioris. But I know how widely theory and p^Jrtice differ; fit and right in politicks are two things, though in morals but one. I am con vinced of the rights of Convocations ; but the expediency of their frequent sitting is another matter. I believe all yon- say of the mischiefs they would produce. But I think we have avoided one extreme only by falling into another. 1 think too. it would be most for the benefit of both societies, if a Convocation- could do nothing without the Rbyal License ; if so be the Administration would act in Church matters as. they do: in civil, be always at tentive to curt) a very growing enormity whenever it appears. Where Would have been the hurt (for 314 instance) of a Royal License to a Convocation, impowering them to examine and to censure Bo- lingbroke's posthumous Writings ? Instead of this, for the sake of screening; a writer* who was for destroying the very being of a Religious Society, the Convocation has been kept gagged for above forty years together.; — Your reflection on the writer is as just as all you say on the question. His book had exactly the same effect on me ; it raised my idea of his abilities extremely. I was on my guard against every thing he said, for 1 knew he had two of the dullest fellows in the world to combat, Wake and Kennett; and I was aware how much the dex terity of controversy, in a genius, is of force to annihilate such adversaries. But he goes upon principles ; and all they could possibly oppose are precedents ; and these are nothing when they op pose the genius of a Constitution. And I lay it down for a rule, that in a dispute concerning a public right, whether civil or ecclesiastic, where precedents may (as they always may)- be pleaded for both sides the question, there nothing but the nature of the Constitution can discriminate the legitimate from the illegitimate. My wife is extremely touched with your concern for her. She bids me tell you that she hopes she is recovering apace. Prior-Park, October.l4th, 1760. * See the dedication to Lord Mansfield, JUL 315 LETTER CXLVL 1 HAVE your kind letter of the 24th past, and would not leave this place without ackrioWledo-- ing it. I am going to look about me in this new world, but am in no more hurry than some older Bishops are in their journey to one still newer. The settlement of the Court and Ministry is "yet perhaps as little known to themselves as to us. All depends upon the disposition of a new King, who is always the "darling of the people, and who suffer him to do all he pleases : as he grows stale, they suf fer him to do nothing which they can hinder him from doing. * I received a kind letter from Mr. Yorke. He talks still of the chapter of accidents with regard to Lincpln's-Inn. As we are turning over a new leaf, that chapter of accidents may be at the beginning. They talk of changes in the Law : but they who talk, know just as much as you or I. You shall hear from me again when I get to town, and have seen a little of the carte du pais. .' Mr. Allen and family follow me in a week or fortnight. He goes to renew his contract with the Government. My wife, I fancy, will stay behind, the Bath waters being now very necessary for the perfect re-establishment of her health. 316 Dr. Balguy is much recovered, and will leave Bath in a week or fortnight ; but to return at Spring. He goes to Winchester; from thence to his Mother's ; and from her, in March, back to Bath. His route lies near you. i All here are tolerably well, and entirely yours. With what affection I am so, you know: with what effect, God knows. But his Providence, which brought us together, will keep us together. For the rest, caliginosd node premit. Prior-Park, November 4th, 1760. LETTER CXLVIL Grosvenor-Square, November 29th, 11 60, HERE I am, in a world of nonsense and hurry, or of hurry and nonsense ; for one can hardly tell which is the parent, which the offspring; or whether they do not beget one another. Our friend came to an ecclaircissement with the great man (for I will name no names in a post-letter) who came here to visit him to-day. And I have the pleasure to tell you that an absolute promise is made of the next ; to the exception of the next in one church only ; which too is neither °f . the churches we wish to have you installed in. How 317 this exception of the next in the church of Rochester came to be made, I shall tell you when we meet. Nichols, Potter, and T. Wilson, of Westmin ster, preaching one after another, bedaubed the new King, who, as Lord Mansfield tells me, ex pressed his offence publicly, by saying, that he came to Chapel to hear the praises of God, arid not his own. There will be some remove of Chaplains ; if he should turn out these three, it would give a general satisfaction,, All the family are here but my wife, who thought proper to stay behind, and take the season of the waters, for her thorough recovery. LETTER CXLVIII. Grosvenor-Square, January 6th, 1761. I AM here alone, and have been so this fort night. But I have the satisfaction to tell you that all the family are well at Prior-Park, which I have the pleasure to believe is more agreeable to you to know, than any thing I Could tell you from the great world ; that is, from this great congeries of vice and folly. Sherlock was much more to blame for not letting his Chaplain understand early that he was a block head by birth, than the Chaplain for not giving his 318 master the late intelligence that his parts were de cayed by time; because, the Bishop, with all his infirmities. of age, could see the one ; but his Chap lain, at his best, could never find out the other. The Poem on the Death of a Lady I had com municated to me by Lord Holderness. You may be sure I did not slip that opportunity of saying to the Patron all that was fitting of the Author and his Poem. He considered what I said as flattering to himself, for he acquainted our friend that he had shewn me the Poem ; as I understand bv a letter I have received from Aston, pretty much to the same purpose with the account I had from you of that matter. In asking after addresses*, you ask after those ephemera, or water-flies, whose existence, the NaT turalists tell us, is comprised within the compass of a Rummer's day. Indeed, these Winter-flies have a still shorter date. Into what dark regions mine is retired, with the rest, I dorit know. But if you would amuse yourself with my thoughts, for six pence you may have my Discourse on the Lord's Supper ; for, as small as the price is, it is too big to send you in my frank. On this occasion, I will tell you what (though perhaps I may have told it you before) I said in the Drawing-room to a knot of Courtiers, in the old King's time. One chanced to say he heard the * The Address of the Bishop and Clergy of the Diocese ojf Gloucester. H. 319 King was not well. Hush, said Colonel Robinson, it is not polite or decent tp talk in this manner ; the King is always well and in health ; you are never to suppose that the diseases of his subjects ever ap proach his Royal person. I perceive then, Colonel, replied I, there is some difference between your Master and mine. Mine was subject to all human infirmities, sin excepted : yours is subject to none, sin excepted. But as concerning my Discourse, it is assuredly orthodox : so says the Archbishop of Canterbury; and that I have demolished both Hoadly and Bossuet : for " 'Tis the same rope at either end they twist." The Archbishop did not say this, but Mr. Pope. However, the Archbishop says, what you are likely enough to say after him — that the people, for whom I intend this Edition, are not likely to profit much by it. Decay of parts- all must have, if not feel, Poets as well as Priests : and it is true what was told you, that Voftaire has lately given evidence to this truth. What you say of this Poet's turn would make an excellent note to — But, sage Historians, 'tis your part, 8gc. and perhaps shall do so. God bless you ; and, when you write next, let me know how your good Mother dpes ; that is, whe ther her health continues such as not to increase yopr cares and anxieties. 320 LETTER CXLIX. Grosvenor-Square, January \9th, 1761. WHEN I tell you of the death of a Preben- dary of Bristol, I wish I could tell you at the same time that you are appointed to succeed him. All that I can tell you is, that this night, the night I write this, the Chancellor (for such he now is) receives a letter from Mr. Allen, desiring it, accord ing to promise, for you. It is true that just now is likewise fallen a Pre bend of Gloucester, by the death of the Bishop of St: -David's, who held it in commendam. But, besides that, I am not certain whether the King does not give the next turn to all commendams ; yet, be this as it will, Bristol is the thing which for many reasons we would have. If we have it, I shall tell you my reasons'; if not, it isj no matter whether I do or not. To judge by all circumstances, I think you cart hardly miss one of them. But 1, who have Been long taught to mortify a sanguine temper, where the question is of merit, gratitude, good faith, &c. &c. I reckon upon nothing till it be in possession: on which account, what I have is the more endeared to 321 me. This makes your friendship so valued by me, so as to reckon you ever mine, as I am ever yours, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CL. Mr. HURD to the BISHOP of GLOUCESTER. I SEE the reason why you thought of printing the Discourse on the Holy Spirit by itself, as you did the Discourse on the Sacrament. It was on account of that part which exposes the pretences of our modern Enthusiasts. So that this Sermon would be as seasonable a reproof of the Methodists y as the other was of the Prostitutors of the Lord's Supper. If this was your Lordship's idea, my objection comes to nothing ; all that part of the Discourse being easy and popular, and such as would, be rea dily comprehended by most readers. But then I should be for printing that part only, I mean from p. 255 to the end, and under some such title as this, The Trial of the Spirits of our modern Pre tenders to Inspiration. It would make an admira ble tract on the subject. But the inconvenience is, that the Methodists would say your Lordship had 320 written against thgrn ; an honour, which, for their own sakes, one would not wish them. Your Lordship mentioned something of changing the method of this Discourse. And now I have presumed thus far, I will tell you a thought that comes into- my head about reforming the order of this long Sermon, which from end to end is most excellent. It may easily be done, if you approve the idea, in some future edition of these volumes. Though the method, as it now stands, be regular, yet the unusual length of the Discourse, the abund ance of matter it contains, and above all the dispro portion of some parts to the rest, make the order of the whole appear neither so clear, nor so elegant as it might be. I would then propose to detach the following parts from it, Of the Style of Scripture — Of the Inspiration of Scripture — Of the Trial of the Spirits. These would make so many distinct discourses of a proper size, for which suitable texts might easily be found : for instance, Not in the en ticing words of man's tvisdom, for the first : All Scripture is given by inspiration, for the second : and, Try the Spirits, &c. for the third. The rest might be one discourse under the present subject. Or, because the last head, of the continuance of the powers of inspiration, does not perfectly correspond to the general title Of the Office and Operations of the Holy Spirit, the two first heads might make a sermon by themselves ; and the third, a distinct one, on the Continuance of the miraculous Powers. 323 5 There would be matter enough for this division ; and I imagine that what I now propose was something like the method in which these discourses were first written and delivered. — Your Lordship sees I am a furious critic, when I set on ; but this Vlth Dis course is throughout so curious and important, that each part deserves to be seen distinctly, and by itself. And I should wish to know what your Lord ship thinks of the proposal. I am sorry for Dr. Browne. — It is very painful, as I have heard Mr. Allen say, with his usual tender ness and humanity, to hear these things of one whom one has known and esteemed. But whatever inclination his spite to the family, rather than the value of the thing itself, might give him to hold the living, he must needs think himself obliged by the good advice of his friends. When he comes to cool a little, he cannot but perceive that both his ease and his honour required him to resign Horksley, after what had passed between him and his patron. But why is this deduction at Newcastle ? It is im possible he should have disgusted the Corporation, already. If Dr. Ayscough thinks a Bishoprick, at his time of life, and in his bad state of health, Worth the having, it seems bjjt fit and decent that he should have the offer of it. How would your Lordship be disgraced if it were known that your Chaplain was permitted, or, which is much the same thing, that he presumed to enter tain your Lordship with accounts of Romances ? Y2 324 Yet I must just say, that the New Heloise has afforded me much pleasure. There are many ex quisite beauties in this odd romance ; so odd, that one may be sure the story is two-thirds fact for one of fiction. But to make amends for this defect, the sensibility of the passionate parts, and the sense, the nature, and the virtue of the rest, is above everything we find in the Crebillons and Veltaires, those idol beaux-esprits of London and Paris. — I wish I could say half so much of our Yorkshire Novelist. Not but the humour of his fourth volume makes up for the dulness of the third. The worst is, one sees by both, that he has not the discretion, or perhaps the courage, to follow the excellent advice that was given him, of laughing in such a manner, as that priests and virgins might laugh with him. I must not conclude this long letter without tell ing your Lordship that Mr. Sutton did me the favour to steal away from his companions on the circuit last week, and to spend a day with me at Thurcaston. He seems intent upon his profession. But what pleased me most was, to find the same sweetness of temper, and simplicity of manners, which he carried out with him when he made the grand tour. 1 took this, short visit very kindly; and the more so, as he promises to repeat it as oft as he comes to Leicester. - Thurcaston, Marrfc 18/^1761 325 LETTER CLI. Pnor-Park, March 24th, 1761. YOU are entirely right as to the ill method of the Discourse, and how it should be reformed; Vvhich direction I shall follow. You judge rightly, it had originally the form, in a good measure, which you now prescribe. It was in several discourses ; and howl came -to jumble them together I don't know, unless it was, that as the preceding subject of the Messiah was in one discourse, so I chose to have this of the Holy Spirit in another : whicJvyou will say, was a very foolish reason : but the substance of method is often sacrificed to the exterior shew of it. As to the deduction of the ^90. a year in the Newcastle revenues, it happened thus. The Cor-» poration contends for its being a free gift^ and' Dr. Browne insists on it as his due. : I had so much to say on the New Heloise, that I said nothing. And your reading has" made my say ing more of it unnecessary. I agree entirely in your admiration of it. You judge truly, and you could not but judge so, that there is more of fact than fiction in it. There would never else have been so much of the domestic part. But,, above all, the inartificial contexture of the story, and the not S2f5 rounding and eompleating its parts, shews the au thor had not a fiction to manage over which he was an absolute, master. The truth, they say, is, that an intrigue with a fair pupil of family forced him to leave Swisserland. He lives at Paris a Hermit, as in a desert ; and, in the midst of gene ral admiration, he will gain literally his bread; by writing out music at seven-pence a sheet, though he be an excellent composer himself. And if for pence they offer him pistoles,, which is frequently done, he returns all but the change. Indeed he is one of those glorious madmen, that Cervantes only saw in idea, I fancy my Visitation (which however is not yet -entirely "fixed) will be the last week in June and the first in July; all before or after having objections against it. I am taking care to have the principal work done with all the decency I can. God knows whether my Clergy will be benefited by my Visita tion. But I am sure I benefit the young in a proper administration of the very important rite of Confir mation. To administer it properly, I have thoughts of confining it (by the leave of my Clergy, for there it will rest at last) to the females of fourteen and upwards, apd the males pf sixteen and upwards. Pray tell me what you think of this particular. Then as to the decent administration, as there are intermediate days in the Visitation, I interad to use those days ip other more commodious places for Confirmation. So that this celebration being chs^ 327 tributed between the days of Confirmation arid days of Visitation, it may be done Without htirry or confusion. And for « further security agaffist this scaftdal, I propose to h&Ve blank certificates printed, to be distributed amongst the Clergy, te fill Up arid give to th*se they have examined and judged fit. And yet fell this will depend on the Clergy's observing my direetieiv-an attention to me Which I do not expect. As to ecclesiastical affair§ (a§ a friend yoti most esteem observed to me), the Duke of NeWcastl* seems to be on the poin^ of shutting Up shop. What a number of bankruptcies it will make in your dear Cambridge! Bankruptcies of sense and honesty I mean, for his traders there lived upon the imputed credit of them: for the rest, in civil matters it is said there is a well-established har mony between him, Mr. Pitt, and the new Secre tary, Lord Bute.-^-Is there any thing in Bell's enquiry after John the Baptist ? I have not time to read books at adventure. You are but a young traveller in this wicked world, and b&tts tlSe day before you. S® you have time l& expatiate to the right and left, just as yofc are tempted by every HeW prospect beifere yo« j g3* but- to a good inn it rHgfoi* and i* signifies Ut&e how sorrily you may be entertained for an hour in a hedge afc-house, into which yow have been deluded by a lying sign. You may lew© it to your more experienced friends to recommend a good inn to you ; where you may 328 solace yourself at your ease. I am so well enter tained in that I am in at present, that I cannot but wish you to use it in your way. You will be at home in it, it is called— Jo. Laur. Moshemij Institutionum' Hist. Eccl. antiques et recentioris Libri qudtuor. A. 1755. To speak without figure or exaggeration, it is the most excellent abridged History of the Church that ever was composed: nor is its method the least of its merit. But when I mention abridgments, I do not consider that' I am writing ,in folio. But no folios can tell you how much I love you, or how cordially I am yours. W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CLII. WE are all extreme glad to, hear you have got well home. I have many thanks to return you for your late services. Let me bespeak you in time for next year ; for, at all adventures, I will not go to Nor wich. You and your Poet say true. I will bet at any time On a fool or a knave against the field. Though the Master of the course be changed, yet the field is the same, where the race is not to the swift. 329 I approve much of your design, and of your motto. The reason why I said, Editor, or Trans lator, was, because the critics doubt whether the French be a translation, yea, or no : therefore you will shew your reading on this important point, to say as I did, Editor, or Translator. As to the sub ject itself, I do not think so slightly of it as you do. But I agree with you, that once treating of it is enough. Remember me kindly to all who are dear to you, when you see them ; and tell your Mother I desire she would live till justice be done to her Sort. Judge whether I do not wish her a long life. But it is for something worth living for : in which she and I, and the public, will rejoice together. Prior-Park, August 19th, 1761. 330 LETTER CLI1I. Mr. HURD to the BISHOP of GLOUCESTER. Thurcaston, December 25th, 17.61. THOUGH I troubled your Lordship with a Letter not long since, yet you will perhaps excuse my appearing before you, at this time, with my Christ mas salutations : a good old custom, which shews our forefathers made a right use of the best tidings that ever came from Heaven ; I mean, to increase good-will towards men. Your Lordship will take a guess, from the ser- monic cast of this sentence, at my late employment. Though I am not likely to be called upon in this way, I know not what led me to try my hand at a popular sermon or two : I say popular, because the subjects and manner of handling are such, but not of the sort that are proper for my Leicestershire people. To what purpose I have taken this trouble, your Lordship may one day understand. For you, who are my example and guide in these exercises, must also be my judge. If you blame, I may learn to write better : if you approve, I shall require no 331 other Theatre. But when does your Lordship think to instruct us on this head, in the address to your Clergy r Certainly, the common way of sermoni zing is most wretched : neither sense, nor eloquence; reason, nor pathos. Even our better models are very defective, I have lately turned over Dr. Clarke's large collection, for the use of my parish ; and yet, with much altering, and many additions, I have been able to pick out no more than eight or ten that 1 could think passable , for that purpose. He is clear and happy enough in the explication of Scripture ;, but miserably cold and lifeless; no inven tion, no dignity, no force ; utterly incapable of en larging on a plain thought, or of striking out new ones : in short, much less of a genius than I had supposed him. 'Tis well you have not my doings before you, while I am taking this liberty, with my betters. But, as I said, your Lordship shall one day have it in your power to revenge this flippancy upon me. Your Lordship has furnished me with a good part of my winter's entertainment, I mean by the books you recommended to me. I have read the Political Memoirs of Abbi St. Pierre. I am' much taken with the old man: honest -and sensible-; full of his projects, and very fond of them; an immortal enemy to the glory of Louis the XlVth, I suppose, in part, from the memory of his disgrace in the Academy, which no Frencinaaan could ever forget ; in short, like our Batnet, of some import- 332 ance to himself, and a great talker. These, I think, are the outlines of his character. I love him for his generous sentiments, which in a Churchman of his communion are the more commendable, and indeed make amends for the Lay-bigotry of M. Crevier. I have by accident got a sight of this mighty Fingal. I believe I mentioned" my suspicions of the Fragments : they are ten-fold greater of this epic poem. To say nothing of the want of external evidence, or, which looks still worse, his shuffling over in such a manner the little evidence he pretends to give us, every page appears to me to afford internal evidence- of forgery. His very citati«ns of parallel passages bear against him. In poems of such rude aritiquity, there might be some flashes of genius. But here they are continual, and cloathed in very classical expression. Besides, no images, no sentiments, but what are matched in other writers, or may be accounted for from usages still subsisting, or well known from the story of other nations. In short, nothing but what the enlightened editor can well explain himself. Above all, what are we to think of a long epic poem, disposed, in "form, into six books, with a beginning, middle, and end, and enlivened, in the classic taste, with episodes. Still this is nothing. What are we to think of a work of this length, pre served and handed down to us entire,, by oral tra dition, for 1400 years, without a chasm, or so much as a various reading, I should rather say, speaking ,? 333 i Put all this together, and if Fingal be riot a forgery; convict ; all I have to say is, that the Sophists have a fine time of it. They may write, and lie on, with perfect security. Arid yet has this prodigy of North- Britain set the world agape. Mr. Gray believes in it ; and without doubt this Scotsman may persuade us, by the same arts-, that Fingal is an original poem, as another employed to prove that Milton was a plagiary. But let James Macpherson beware the consequence. Truth will out, they say, and then— " Cjui Bavium non odit, amet tua carmina, Msevi." My dear Lord, excuse this rhapsody, which I write currente calamo ; and let me hear that your Lordship, Mrs. Warburton, and the dear Boy, are perfectly well. I think to write by this post to Mr. Allen. LETTER CLIV. Prior-Park, December 21th, 1761. LET me wish you (as we all do) all the happiness that goodness can derive from this season. The honour this country derives from the Duke of York's visit can hardly compensate the bad news of a Spanish war, which puts the City of London iri 334 a consternation. This event does honour to Mr. Pitt's sagacity, and the wisdom of his advice upon it. Whether this war, which was foreseen by no body to be inevitable, but by him, can be successfully managed by any body, but by him, time must shew ; for I would not pretend to be wiser than our teachers, I mean, the news-writers, who refer all doubtful cases, as the Treasury does all desperate payments, to time. The best thing which time (since I wrote last) has brought to pass, is the ad vancement of Mr. Yorke to be Attorney-general. I would have you, by all means, write him your com pliments upon it ; for, with a high value, he has a great friendship for you. What you say of Hume is true : and (what either I said in my last, or intended to say) you have taught him to write so much bet ter, that he has thoroughly confirmed your system. I have been both too ill and too lazy to finish my , discourse on the Holy Spirit. Not above half of it is yet printed. I have been extremely entertained with the wars of Fingal. It can be no cheat, for I think the en thusiasm of, this specifical sublime could hardly be counterfeit. A modern writer would have been less simple and uniform . — Thus far had I written when your letter of Christmas-day came to hand ; as you will easily understand by my submitting to take shame upon me, and assuring you that I am fully convinced of my false opinion delivered just above concerning Fingal. I did not consider the matter as 335 I ought. Your reasons for the forgery are unans werable. And of all these reasons, but one occurred to toe, the want of external evidence ; and this, I own, did shock me. But you have waked me from a very pleasing dream ; and made me hate the im postor, which is the most uneasy sentiment of our waking thoughts. I am much pleased with what you tell me of a set of Sermons ad populum, I mean to people of condi tion. For Nature formed you for, and Providence will bring you to, another Theatre. Your judg ment of Clarke is, like your other judgments of men, perfectly exact, and true. I received a letter from Mason of the 14th, and he tells me news — that your Letters on Chivalry are in the press ; and he desires, when they come out, I would send them to him in covers. Sterne has published 'his fifth and sixth Volumes of Tristram. They are wrote pretty much like the first and second ; but whether they will restore his reputation as a writer with the publick, is another question.— The fellow himself is an irrecoverable scoundrel. My Discourse on the Holy Spirit grows upon me, especially in the latter part about the Methodists, which is the part I could have wished would have grown the least. But a wen grows faster than sound flesh. I have yet printed offbut 72 pages. I think the Booksellers have an intention of em ploying Baskerville to print Pope in 4to ; so they 336 sent me the last octavo to look over. I have added the inclosed to the long note in the beginning of the Rape of the Lock, in answer to an impertinence of Joseph Warton. When you have perused it, you will send it back. I have sometimes thought of collecting my scatr tered anecdotes and critical observations together, for the foundation of a Life of Pope, which the booksellers teaze me for. If I do that, all of that kind must be struck out of the notes of that edition. You could help me nobly to fill up the canvas. LETTER CLV. I HAVE now seen the whole of the Letters on Chivalry, and am wonderfully taken with them. They should be published forthwith, and the title-. page be, as you say, Letters on Chivalry and Romance. They cannot but please all persons of taste, greatly. They are the petit-piece to that noble work of the Dialogues, , My Wife's indisposition has been long and ob stinate. She and her Cousin are rambling up and down for air and exercise, by advice of her Phy sician. Mr. Allen and the family set out to her on Tuesday ; they are likely to go together to London for a few days, after having met on the road. , 337 I stay here, where the Captain * is confined to his bed by a lingering gout; which, if it does not become more vigorous soon, is likely to be dan gerous. I shall soon draw upon your friendship for a re mittance to Gloucester, where I hope we shall find ourselves the fore end of July. Prior-Park, May 15th, 1762. LETTER CLVI. MY DEAR RECTOR OF FOLKTON -f", 1 HIS shall be only to remind you of what you may forget. I mprimis, your first fruits. Your friend Pearson has put me in mind of this. Item, Should you not write a letter of thanks to the Chancellor, into whose favour you seem to have been much crept ? Item, Should you not write to the Bishop of London, to thank him for his recommendation to his Brothers ? * Captain Tucker, Mrs. Warburton's Brother. JS. f The sine-cure >Reetory of Fplktcm, near Hurananby, JE.Jf,. of Yorkshire, vacated by the translation of Br. .Osbaldiston froin Carlisle to London, and- given me by the Chancellor, \jofd, Nprthington, at the request of Mr. Allen. H. z 338 Item, Should you not write a letter of thanks to the Archbishop of York ? I have sent you his letter inclosed ? - ¦ , These, you will say, are like a Taylor's items of stay-tape and canvas. But remember, a coat cannot be made without them. I say nothing to you of the Publick. You are too much a, Philosopher to turn your eyes downwards on the dissentions of the Great; and I cannot dwell upon the subject with any satisfaction. I am afraid we are at the eve of much disturbance, and ready to . exchange a war abroad for one at home, less murderous, but more calumniating. We have long prayed to be delivered . from our enemies ; I wish the Archbishop could hit upon an efficacious form of prayer to be delivered from ourselves. God bless you, and preserve the peace at Thurcaston, and in all its borders ! Grosvenor-Square, November 24th, 1762. LETTER CLV1I. MY DEAR DOUBLE RECTOR, OR rather, jny double-dear Rector: A fool ish figure, Aut farewel it, says Pofonius. You may guess the pleasure the approbation of my book by a friend and a judge, gives me. I am extremely pleased with T* Warton's new 339 edition of his Observations, and have let him know as much by Balguy. I am glad he is in earnest with his project of the History of English Poetry : he will do it well.-— Your advice will determine me to strike out the note on his Brother. The reasons you give have sufficient weight. After I sent my letter to you away, I had forgot (I recollected) to inclose the Archbishop's Letter, which I referred to. But you have it here. I met Lord Kinnoul in the House the other day ; and he acknowledged how much they were obliged to me for my recommendation of you ; and then launched out into the praises of your manners, your polite ness, your amiable conversation, &c. , Yesterday, the Secretary of State laid the Preli minaries before the House, and said that in a day or two they should be delivered to each Member in print. Thursday se'nnight is appointed to enter upon the consideration of them. I left my Wife tolerably well, though complain ing. But since I came hither she has had the most violent and dangerous fit of a bilious colic that can be conceived, insomuch that the excessive pain made her delirious. But, thank God ! she has got well over it. iGrosvenor-Square, November 30th, 1762. Z2 340 LETTER CLVHI. Mr. HURD to the BISHOP of GLOUCESTER. I THANK God that I can now, with some assurance, congratulate with myself on the prospect of your Lordship's safe arid speedy recovery from your sad disaster *. Mrs* Walrburton's last Letter was a cordial , to me; and, as the ceasing of intense pain, so this ¦abatement of the fears I have been tormented with for three or four days past, gives a certain alacrity to my spirits, of which your Lordship may look to feel the effects, in a long Letter. , And now. supposing, as I trust I may do, that your Lordship will be in no great pain when you receive this Letter, I am tempted to begin, as friends Usually do when such accidents befal, with my re prehensions, rather than condolence. I have often wondered why your Lordship should not use a cane in your walks, which might haply have prevented this misfortune ; especially considering that Heaven, I suppose the better to keep its Sons in some sort of * Of breaking his left arm, by a fall in the garden of-Prior- Tark. H. 341 equality, has thought fit to make your outward sight by many degrees less perfect than your in ward. Even I, a young and stout Son of the Church, rarely trust my firm steps into my garden, without some support of this kind- How improvident then was it in a Father of the Church, to commit his pn- steadfast footing to this hazard ! Not to insist, that a good pastoral staff is the badge of your office, and, like a sceptre to a King, should be the constant ap pendage to a Bishop, This, and such like remonstrances, in the style, : though not, I hope, in the spirit of Job's comfort ers, I should be apt to make, if the moment were favourable, and I were now at your bed-side ; as I had been probably ere this, if I could have found a supply for my two Churches- : for the person 1 engaged in the Summer is run away, as you will think natural enough, when I tell you, he was let out of gaol to h» promoted to this service. But time and patience bring an end of all our distresses. I am at last promised a resident Curate from Cam bridge, but am to wait for him till after the Lent Ordination. I have this day a Letter from Mr. Mason, who promises to call here next week in. his way to Lon don. He speaks in high admiration of your late Books, especially of the part against Wesley. I hope, by the time he comes, to have another Letter from Prior-Park, and so to be able still more authen tically to relieve his concern for the ill news I have . to tell him. 342 Since Sunday last, I have been able to think of nothing with satisfaction. I shall now return, with some composure, to my books, and the finishing my two Dialogues on Travelling, or, as they almost pretend to be called, on Education. I have taken the greater pleasure in composing them, from the fancy that they may one day be of some use to my friend Ralph. And to this end I confess I have the ambition to have these papers pass through the hands of Mrs. Warburton ; and, if I may presume so far, to make a convert of her to my party : for at present I should not think it strange if she inclined to think favourably of so prevailing a practice. I have even that confidence in the goodness of my cause, that I should not be displeased if, in the mean time, she saw What Rousseau, who is fashionable in this part of his scheme, has to say in defence of this custom. In particular, I could wish to know what she thinks of the ingenious expedierit , of making Emilius fall desperately in love, before he sets out on his travels. It looks as if he took a mistress to be as necessary to a modern Traveller, as to ah ancient Knight-errant. But does she conceive tiiat this would be an ad visable experiment to be made, in due time, on her Son ; that he would^ or ought to go abroad in these circumstances, or, that any good could come of it, if he did?T mean, though' Rousseau himself, or another Mentor3 should take' the charge of the Voyage. I take, this violent machine of a love-fit to be, in effect, a confession that no human means can be thought of to make this early travel of boys for 343 the purpose of education, either safe or useful. But I have a hundred other objections, of which, as I said, I consent that Mrs. Warburton shall be the judge, if she will do me the honour to peruse these papers^ and to moderate; as her good sense will well enable her to do, between Mr. Locke and Lord Shaftesbury. But to return to your Lordship, whom I haVe left too long. Your continuance in bed is riow^ I hope, the most uneasy circumstance to be apprehended. It were well if you had the faculty of slumbering, which Pope celebrates in some Prelates ; or that yOu had the knack of dreaming awake, as might be said to the honour of some others. In either case, the time might pass away somewhat comfortably in your confinement. Brit in defect of these two remedies, which you cannot have, it may serve, for the time at least, to divert your thoughts, to cast your eye pn this long letter. This is my best excuse for troubling you at this rate ; and, now the secret is Out, it is fit I take my leave as speedily as I can, with assuring you only of my constant prayers and best wishes for your Lordship, and of the inviolable affection with which I must be ever, &c, Thurcaston, February 10 th, 1763. 344 LETTER CLIX, MY DEAR FRIEND, I WAS willing to tell you with my own, pen, as soon as I was able, that my cure proceeds as the physical people could wish. Providence has beep graciously pleased to relieve this bad accident with the most favourable circumstances. Next to that, they tell me, I am indebted to a long habit of tem perance ; no otherwise meritorious ; for I think I stumbled upon temperance in the pursuit of plea*. sure,— ^Ever most affectionately yours, W.G. . LETTER CLX, I HERE inclose you Mr, Yorke's letter. It is my firm opinion that you should not now, when you can afford to take it, decline so reputable a piece of preferment, if this maris death, or resigna tion, makes a vacancy. New orders were talked of, which might make it uneasy to the Preacher ; but ft was only talk ; things being on the old footing. 345 I should have been much easier with you in this matter before the sinecure. For the, salary is only «s£3l. a term, that is,\=gl24 ; and the chambers, which let for ^30. Perhaps you would keep the chambers in your own hands. So that it reduces it to the ^§124. out of which your assistant is to be paid, which may amount to ^24. or g@30. a year, at half-a-guinea a sermon. But it is not the money, which now you do not want ; but the station, which is the thing. You have Commons in the Hall with the Benchers, in Term-time, which is the only time of your residence. Prior-Park, March 24th, 1763. P. S. Mr. Allen is of the same mind with me. LETTER CLXI. I DEFERRED thus long to write to you, till I could give you some good account of my hand I have used the pump this fortnight or three weeks, and think I have received some benefit, though it comes slowly. The complaint is, a great debility in the wrist, after the most successful cure of the fracture of the arm. Of my Wife I can tell you better news: after long languishing under the hands of a Bath physician^ 346 ahd a resolution to go to the Spa in Germany this Summer (a resolution so fixed, that a house was hired there for her), I thought it proper, till the season came, that she should go to London, to be in the hands of Dr. Heberden and Dr. Letherland, the two best physicians in Europe, in my opinion. She went, continued there six weeks, and is returned almost perfectly recovered, by observing a course of physic under their direction. And the Spa journey is changed, by their advice, for the waters of Tun- bridge, whither she proposes to go the latter end of June. Your journey to your friends happens at a right time, and we hope you will come from thence to us. As to our Gloucester journey, that is at present altogether uncertain. But by the time you reach *us/ we perhaps may say something more positive concerning it. I have so much to pour into the bosom of a friend, both of public and private matters, that I positively will not say one word more than just to recommend myself to your good Mother^ and your Brother, her neighbour. Prior-Park, May 25th, 1763. P. S. I cannot forbear adding — Be npt under top much concern for my hand. 'I, whose > life is a warfare upon earth (that is to say with bigots and libertines, against whom I have denounced eternal war, like Hannibal against Rome at the Altar), 347 have reason to be thankful that the debility is not in my sword-hand, LETTER CLXII. . 1 AM preparing the second volume of the Divine Legation, that is, the third and fourth parts, for a new edition. I had not read over the preface' against Taylor since the publication, and it pleased me to find I could make it no better: which is rarely xny case. I have oft told you how amusing this work of correction is to me in comparison of com position, where I stretch my weak faculties too vio lently to give me pleasure. We depend on your coming to us when you leave your Mother and Brother, to whom my kindest remembrances. Prwr-Park, May 30th, 1763. P. S. Rousseau's Letter to the Archbishop of Paris on his Pastoral Letter against Emile will much amuse you. At p. 65,^ you will see one of the strongest and surest marks of Fanaticism : I will leave you to find out what it is. 348 LETTER CLXIIL Mr. HURD to the BISHOP of GLOUCESTER. Thurcaston, February 24th, 1764. THE inclosed is for my lively and excellent friend, in acknowledgment of a singularly kind letter she has honoured me with. — I thank your Lordship for the franks, which were a seasonable supply to toe, after the late expence by the press. Your Lordship guesses right, that I take no con cern in the politicks of the time ; and for a reason you will think a good one — that neither party seems much worth being concerned for. There be other jolly pastimes enough, as Milton says, to bring the day about ; one of which, though . not the most jollfy, has been the looking into two or three late critical publications ; of which, for want of better materials for a letter, I think I must take leave to give your Lordship some account. The profound Greek literature seems to have taken refuge in the farthest nook of the West. Toup's two pieces on Suidas are considerable in their Avay. He is certainly well skilled in the Greek 349 tongue, and possesses, besides, a particle or two, discerped from Bentley's vSg, which I regard as the soul, or to zsoiv, as we may say, of the critical world. With all this, he is a piece of a Coxcomb, as, I know not how, all the modern Greeks, I think, are. He treats his neighbour Heathy of Exeter, with sovereign contempt, calling him indeed doc- tissimus, as occasion serves ; but withal,, la boriosissi- mus ; a term, as I suppose, in this lively Greek's mouth, of opprobrious import. In short, what by his real talents in his way, and by the superior airs he gives himself, I expect that, in after-time?, some admiring Dutch , Critic, half asleep and all a-gape, will quote him by the style and title of, Toupius 6 "sscivu, that highest and most crowning appellation, to which critical ambition knows tp aspire. This corrector of Suidas and Krister pro mises, it seems, a new Edition of Longinus. I wish he had chosen some better and more useful book. The Moral Tracts of Plutarch, for instance, are many of them incomparable ; but so wretchedly printed, and so corrupt even in the best editions, that they are not to be read without much trouble. From Toupius, I descend by a gradation of many steps, to Jer. Markland, who has published the Supplices of Euripides ; indeed reasonably well, so far as respects the printing, the rythm, and settling the reading of some inconsiderable words. But when he condescends to explain a whole sen tence of his author, as he does sometimes, though 350 but rarely, he is not so happy ; of which, the fol lowing may serve for an example. A narration begins, ver. 65 0, with the description of the Morning in these words : Aoijuwrpa jxsj> dxFig, rfhle xotvdov ' these men deserve their superior titles and riches '- who perform thus nobly ?' — — A silence ensued. But the thing did not seem to be taken amiss. And some said with good hu mour enough, " Why do you not undertake this " cause yourself?" I replied, " When I think I can t( do any service, I do not stay to be called upon. " And I appeal to Neal's History of the Puritans, " in three volumes, now in the Library at Durham, "Which at oneof my residences I took home to my 357 "house; and, at breakfast-time, filled the margins " quite through ; which I think to be a full confu- " tation of all his false facts and partial representa- " tioris. The Bishop of Durham has seen it, or, " at least, heard ®f it." And so we parted in much good humour. I hardly leave you in so good, after forcing so long and so tedious a letter upon you on the road. May you get well home, and in health, and find every thing there as you would have it, is the hearty wish of your fond friend, W.GLOUCESTER. P. S. I shall deliver the Illustrious Heads to Mil lar ; nay, I had delivered them to him by the binder, to send you. But he, by mistake, sent them back to me in Grosvenor-Square. LETTER CLXVIII. Grosvenor-Square, March, 1165, I SHOULD hardly have troubled you this post, but for the sake of the inclosed. I have your kind letter from Birmingham. Ypur firerside diar logue affects me much. When I mentioned Gloucester, I had forgot that you told me of your purpose to try Harrowgate. But I do not forget that I warmly advised you to it. 358 And therefore it will be with pleasure that I shall lose your- company on that account. Besides, I should fancy (and I never 'knew fancy unaccompa nied with hopes) that you will have a call to Glou cester before that time, for Geekie* has had another fit, and what will become of him nobody knows. Poor Dr. Stukeley, in the midst of a florid age of 84, was last Saturday struck with an apoplectic fit, which deprived him of his senses. I suppose he is dead by this time. LETTER CLXIX. Grosvenor-Square, Marxh, 1165. MY DEAREST FRIEND, YOU say true, I have a tenderness in my temper which will make me miss poor Stukeley; for, not to say that he was one of my oldest ac-' quaintance, there was in him such a mixture of simplicity, drollery, absurdity, ingenuity, super stition, and antiquarianism, that he often afforded me that kind of well-seasoned repast, which the French call an Amblgu, I suppose, from a com pound of things never meant to meet together. I have often heard him laughed at by fools, who had ?Prebendary of Canterbury, and Archdeacon of Gloucester. H. 359 neither his sense, his knowledge, nor his honesty j though it must be confessed, that in him they were all strangely travestied. Not a week before his death he walked from Bloomsbury to Grosvenor- Square, to pay me a visit: was cheerful as usual; and as full of literary projects. But his business was (as he heard Geekie was not likely to continue long) to desire I would give him the earliest notice of his death, for that- he intended to solicit for his Prebend of Canterbury, by Lord Chancellor and Lord Cardigan. " For," added he, "~one never dies " the sooner, you know, for seeking preferment." You have had a curiosity, which I never shall have, of reading Leland's Second Thoughts. I be lieve what you say ; they are as nonsensical as his First. It is as you say of Percy's Ballads. Pray is this the man who wrote about the Chinese ? Antiquarianism Js, indeed, to true letters, what specious funguses are to the oak ; which never shoot out and flourish till all the vigour and virtue of that monarch of the grove be effete, and near exhausted. I envy the meeting of you three at Thurcaston ; while I am confined here to the assemblies of pride and dulness. I did mention tp you, I think, the insult coair mitted on the head of the supreme Court of Justice. The abuse was extreme, and much felt ; generally resented, but I believe by nobody more than by .me, as you will see by the inclosed. I have made 360 what I had to say on that head; the eonelusiort of my Dedication*. It will please neither party. I was born to please no party. But what of that ? In matters of moral conduct it is evfery honest man's chief concern to please himself. P. S. When you have done with it, send it back. .'Hl'M'y LETTER CLXX. Grosvenor-Square^ May 2d, 1765. ./ THIS morning I received the inclosed from Mr. Yorke. I wrote him word back that I despaired of your compliance : however, I would communi cate the affair to you as desired ; and I was sure that this instance of his friendship to you would ever be warmly resented by you, . and that, as soon as you received this, he might expect your answer. My Wife is here, and is above measure yours. — J have now determined not to go to Gloucester this year, as I cannot have your company, and as I think it necessary you should go to Harrowgate. On this account, my Wife thinks she may venture to stay here . from Mrs. Allen a fortnight after I have left London, which I propose to do the latter end of * To Lord Mansfield. H 361 next week. I hope we shall meet however this Summer, since it is not thought Geekie will live it over. LETTER CLXXI. Prior-Park, June 24th, 1165. I RECEIVED this morning the inclosed letter from Mr. Yorke, together with that of yours to him of the 16th instant. Of yours I will not say a word to you ; for that would imply that even the most kind thing was capable of making me love you better than I do already. The inclosed ac count I believe to be a true one, and therefore per fectly satisfactory : so that if you have no aversion to the thing, I beg you would immediately tell Mr. Yorke so ; and (because I know your delicacy) that I have wrote you word that his letter to me gives me the fullest satisfaction. I say if you have no aversion to this post. For I think truly that you would make an ill exchange of ease and happiness (which your unaccountable vir tues entitle you to, and enable you to procure for yourself) for the most flattering, prospect of worldly emoluments. I call your virtues unaccountable^ as I do the wealth of our rich rogues, who cauponised 362 to the Armies in Germany in this last war ; who have raised our admiration, that they were able to plunder and- pillage so mightily amidst an universal poverty. But if you really can accept this place with ease and satisfaction to yourself, I foresee many advan tages from it, both to yourself, if Fortune favours, and to your Friends in spite of Fortune. You will act conformably to the desires of Lord Mansfield and Mr. Yorke : and, what I am sure you will not esteem the least, the happiness I shall 'gain by so much more of your company every year. I must not forget to thank you for your own dear letter to me of the lQth. When I told my Wife you remembered her and the Boy in this letter, instead of making her ashamed of her long silence (which she confessed it ought to do), she triumphed in it ; and her pride dictated this reflection to her, — thafshe believed had Mr. Mason been guilty of so much neglect in writing to you, you would hardly have remembered him so often as you have done her ; this her pride (which I say dictated to her) made her say before company.P. S. I will make you amends for so much of my own, with a little of Pope. The inclosed from Mr. Yorke needs no explanation. The little poem is certainly his. — -But you see he could not dsvect himself of that satiric force of expression, 363 even in his tenderest things — and where it had least to do. Stript to the naked soul-^- is so foreign to the pathetic, that seeing those wTords alone, one would imagine my charming friend was going to give us an account of Vulture Hopkins, or Peter Walter, just stept into the other world, and desperately surprised at their new condition, to find themselves become bankrupts, and stript of all : for their soul still went for nothing. VERSES by Mr. POPE, On Dr. Bolton's (the late Dean of Carlisle) having written and published a paper to the Memory of Mrs. Butler, of Sussex, Mother to old Lady Blount, of Twickenham, They are supposed to be spoken by the deceased Lady to the Author of that paper which drew her character. Stript to the naked soul, escap'd from clay, From doubts unfetter' d, and dissolv'd in day.j Unwarm'd by vanity, unreach'd by strife, And all my hopes and fears thrown off with life ; Why am I charm'd by Friendship's fond essays, And tho' unbodied, conscious of thy praise ? Has pride a portion in the parted soul ? Does passion still the formless mind controul ? Can gratitude out-pant the silent breath, Or a Friend's sorrow pierce the glooms of death ? No — 'tis a spirit's nobler taste of bliss, That feels the worth it left, in proofs like this ; That not its own applause but thine approves, Whose practice praises, and whose virtue loves ; * Who liv'st to crown departed friends with fame ; Then dying, late, shalt all thou gav'st, reclaim. Mr. Pope. 364 LETTER CLXXIL Prior-Park, July 1th, 1765, I HAVE yours of the 1st, and am infinitely pleased that you will accept the Preachership.— I agree with you in your observation of Mr. Yorke's warmth and solicitude. You do well not to lay aside your Harrowgate journey ; "but I should do ill not to tell you that the physical people say they are the same with Chelten ham, our Visitation-town. Both the waters smell and taste like rotten eggs. However, if this be so, , I hope you will, ere long, have a better opportunity of using Cheltenham waters, and renewing them commodiously, as oft as you please, if indeed they b« the same with Harrowgate. You desire, as is fitting, Mr. Yorke's two Letters to you. But, surely, I have only the last you sent, which I return under this cover ; I believe you will find the other returned. But perhaps, by the other Letter, you mean the long one to me, whieh you serif back, and which is properly a Letter to you, and therefore I haVe sent it you baek, to keep with the rest. Adieu, my dearest friend ; may God pre serve you, keep you in health, and prosper you3 wherever you go, and return you safe and sounds To your most affectionate, &c. &c. W. GLOUCESTER. 365 P. S. I believe Clutterbuck will pay you your le gacy * (which is now due) whenever you write to him. Before I sealed the Letter, I luckily found the other Letter to you. LETTER CLXXIII. Prior-Park, October 6th, 1165. I HOPE this will find you safely returned. Your picture is finished. Hoare says it is much the fjesthe has ever drawn of me. I have ordered it to be sent to London for a frame, by Gousset ; and he has orders to send it to you.; as you shall direct. I beg your acceptance of it, though I know you do not want any thing to put you in mind of me. I had forgot to mention what you said, of re taining Dr. Balguy's note. I think it is right, .for the reason you give. We have heard nothing of the man from Wilt shire. , You need make no apology for your failing in your and your Brother's (to whom my thanks) kind endeavours ; for we found how difficult jt was before we gave you this trouble. You say nothing, nor give me any directions about your legacy. ^ * Of *£100. left me by Mr. Allen's Will. U, 366 LETTER CLXXIV. Prior-Park, October 9th, 1165. I HAVE your kind Letter of the 4th; and though I wrote by the last post, your friend would needs have me write by this, to prevent your further trouble (and to thank you for your past) about a porter, she having now provided herself. I desire you would use my house in Grosvenor- square till you provide better for yourself; and that you would let me know when you propose being in London, that I may write to the servant, to take care of your bed, &c. I hope the Preachership may be made easy to you by the means I propose. You need not doubt of your being liked — as for your liking, when I con sider how easily you accommodate yourself, I do not doubt of that neither. I believe you will like the picture : it is really a good one. I had forgot to say in my last, that I had ordered Johnson's Shakespeare (which is on the point of coming out) to be sent to you: which I desire your acceptance of, having subscribed for two, one for Mr. Allen, and another for myself. I cordially wish Mr. Mason all happiness in this change of his condition : indeed I called it, I be lieve more properly, exchange. For in our com- 367 merce with the world, depending on our connexions, I think there is but one where the gains are clear and mutual ; I leave you to define what connexion it is I mean. My taylor, I believe, is as honest as any taylor can be, who has possessions in Hell, and only a precarious reversion in Heaven. His name is Hall — but that he may not make you pxyjcent. per cent. for your letter, to him, I have sent *yoU a frank for this man of worship — for I think he has been War den of his Company ere now. LETTER CLXXV * Prior-Park, October 31st, 1165. I AM indebted to you for two very kind and amiable Letters. You are in the right of it ; — what you suspect, Mr. Yorke intends to request of you. I received a Letter from him by this post, in which are these words : It will be an election unanimous. But, * With this letter the Bishop inclosed to me the copy of one to a friend, in which he gives the following account of Dr. J6hr- son's edition of Shakespeare, just then published. " The remarks he makes in every page on my commenta- " ries.. are full of insolence and. malignant reflections, whioh, " had they not in them as much folly as malignity, I should have 368 as little attentions please, I shall endeavour to prevail upon him, when I have the pleasure of see ing him, to mount timber on Sunday, as a compli ment to them. — I believe I may be more prevalent with you than this great man, though so much your friend, when I tell you, that in the very self same circumstances, I was prevailed upon by Lord Mansfield, tajnpunt timber the Sunday before the election, as d^compliment to them. — Of this Johnson, you and I, I believe, think much alike. — Yours, W. GLOUCESTER. " had reason to be offended with. As it is, I think myself obliged " to him, in thus setting before the publick so many of my notes, , " with his remarks upon them ; for though I have no great opi- " nion of that trifling part of the publick, which pretends to " judge of this part of literature, in which boys and girls decide, " yet Ithink nobody can be mistaken in this comparison; though " I think their thoughts have never yet extended thus fer as to " reflect, that to discover the corruption in an author's text, and " by a happy sagacity to restore it to sense, is no easy task : but " when the discovery is made, then to cavil at the conjecture, to " propose an equivalent, and defend nonsense, by producing out " of the thick darkness it occasions, a weak and faint glimmer- " ing of sense (which has been the business of this Editor " throughout) is the easiest, as well as dullest of all literary " efforts." H. 369 LETTER CLXXVI. Prior-Park, November 14th,;lj.65. 1 THINK you are quite right to use your owri chambers. The Benchers, I am sure, will be 'very ready to make any improvements for your accom modation; their last ' Lecturer who condescended to use- them being an Archbishop. Mr. Yorke may be right in yOUr not being tod punctilious about Sermons; at first. But take Care" not to actiustom them to works of Supererogation-^ for, as puritanical as they are, they have a great hankering after that Popish doctrine. _ ; All you say about Lowth's . Pamphlet, breathes the purest spirit of friendship. His wit and Iris reasoning i God knoivs, and I also (as a certain Critic said once in a matter, of the like great import ance), are much below the qualities that deserve those names. But the strangest thing of all, is this maris boldness in publishing my Letters' without my leave or knowledge. I remember, several long Let ters passed between us ; and I remember you saw the Letters. But I haVe so totally forgot the con tents, that I am at a loss for the meaning of these words of yours; — since they produced the defence of ^pages 117 and 118. They seem to relate to you ; B B 370 but that would increase the wonder ; for what relates to you is, I believe, the last thing I should forget. In a word, you are right. — If he expected, an answer, he will certainly find himself disappointed : though I believe I could make as good sport with this Devil of a vice for the public diversion, as ever was made with him in the old Moralities. You rejoice us in the hopes of soon seeing you here. Don't you believe, that I think one friend like you, infinitely more than a compensation for a thou sand such enemies ? If you don't, you won't do me justice, when you do it to all the world besides. P. S. I devote my Postscript to a better subject. Millar tells me, that a new edition of your .Horace is gone to the press. — Apropos, I ordered Millar to send a copy of my Alliance to Dr. Balguy, at Winchester. Perhaps about this time he is com ing to town, or may be gone to Cambridge. You will instruct Millar where to send it. 371 LETTER CLXXVII, Prior-Park, November 18th, 1765. I THANK you for the letters. I see that what I said of you was so naturally and sincerely said, that it is no wonder I forgot it. But is not this universally esteemed a dishonour able conduct, to publish a maris letters without his knowledge or consent? The absurdity, too, is amazing to those who will attend to the chronology of this affair. We were come to a good understand ing ; and some years afterwards he falls again upon poor Job, and in an insulting manner. He seems (by what you say) to soften the meaning of insanus, which, indeed, has as much latitude as our word— mad. But when referring to a real madman, as Harduin was, it can only be understood in the most offensive sense. — But I think I see the reason of the publication of these letters ; it was to shew how he defied me, and what a high, opinion 1 had of him.— But he is below another thought. We hope nothing will prevent the performance of your promise. You will let us know when we may expect you. I am much offended with Millar, who lets me hear no news of what is become of the Alliance, when J expected it to be published ere now. When you see little Birch, pray thank him for his answer tp my letter. bb 2 $7i LETTER CLXXVIlL Prior-Pdrk, November 28th, li6$. DR. BALGUY once told me there was one thing in the argument of the Divine Legation, that stuck more with candid men than all the rest — How a Religion without a future state could be worthy of God. I promised him to consider it fully. I have done so in an Appendix to the second volume now in the press — no improper place, just on the entrance on the Jewish dispensation. And a long passage of Voltaire in his Dictionaire Portative is my text. The discourse consists of three parts. First, the objections of the Orthodox on this ques tion. Second, the objection of the Freethinkers. Third, the solution of the difficulty at large, on more general principles. In the first part, having used the expression of answerers by profession, "I have added this note : " This was a title I ventured " formerly to give to these Polemic Divines ; and " the Dunces of that time said I meant the Lawyers. " I lately spoke of the keen atmosphere of wholesorhe " severities ; meaning the JJigh-Church principle qf u persecution, disguised (by the professors of it " against Mr. Locke) under the name of wholesome " severities; and the Dunces of this time §ay,I meant " Winchester and Oxford," 373 But I tire you and myself; and will refresh us both with the constant memory of our friendship, which makes us forget that Dunces have ever been. W, GLOUCESTER. LETTER CLXXIX. - April, 11-66^ 1 AM indebted, to you for your kind infor mation of having got well home. Just when' you was gone, Lord Mansfield sent to your lodgings, to irivite yOu to dinner,, to meet me and 'my Wife. Of politicks there is neither end nor measure, nor sense, nor honesty ; so I shall say nothing. I preached my Propagation Sermon ; and ten or a dozen Bishops dined with my Lord Mayor, a plain and (for this year/ at) least) a munificent man, Whether I made them wiser than ordinary at Bow, I' can't tell. I certainly made them merrier than ordinary at the : )MansionLhpuse ; where we were magnificently {treated. The Lord Mayor told me/ " thd' Commbn-Cbuncil were much obliged tp me, for that this was the first time he ever heard them prayed for." I said, "I considered them as a body who much needed the prayers of the Church.'' — Bui if he told me in what I abounded, I told him in what I thought he wag defective— - LETTER CLXXXIV. Prior-Park, September • 23d, 1166. , LAST Saturday, poor Mrs^Allen died,. As all the promise* you made was to come if you should be at Gloucester,. or at London; and, as it was almost impracticable to get yoU ; but principally not tp give you the tedious and ungrateful trouble of so lpng a journey ; we; agreed it Was best to confine Ourselves to the terms of your promise^ especially as we thought it would be very disagreeable to you to leave Thurcaston after sb.lorigv an absence. So that by the time you receive this, the. poor woman will be interred. — I do not intend to go to London, if I can avoid it, till after Christmas. ' ¦ I received a 'few days1 agO a letter from0 Mr. Yorke, acquainting me with his" intention of coming t6 Prior-Park the first ! or second week in October, though the beginning of this month I wrote him word that Mrs. Allen was dying; so that I was forced to excuse our inability of receiving him as we ought at this time, and to hope we should see him jn the Christmas holydays. , I could wish that then, or before, we might see you. Our kindest wishes * To perform the funeral service at her interment, as I had done at Mr. Allen's, by her desire. H. 381 attend you wherever you are. Continue to love your most affectionate and entire friend, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CLXXXV. Prior-Park, October 9th, 1766. MY DEAREST FRIEND, WHAT you predicted of poor Browne*, you hear is come to pass. All the intelligence that I and Dr.. Balguy have had of the matter, I have here inclosed to you. I did him hurt in bringing him out into the world, and he rewarded me accordingly. More words would be now lost upon him ; but not more lost than those which I have conveyed to him by way of advice from time to time. * Dr. John Browne, whose unhappy, case is here glanced at, has been frequently mentioned in these Letters. . He was the son- of a clergyman in Cumberland, educated at St. John's College,, in. Cambridge, and afterwards, .preferred to, a. small living (La- zonby, I think) near, Carlisle. ;,. ..,.,.J|) ,,, . -,.., . . -¦ , He. had apph^d, himself,, to^nc-efTy^ . and. composed.. an Essay, on Satire (which he. published).,, ficcaffeped by. the death, of 'Mr. Pope. This Essay ma^de. him known to Mr,,. Warburton, who. introduced him to many of his, friends, and^, among the. rest, to Mr. Charles Yorke j by whose means he obtained of the Lord Viscount Royston- 382 The ring mentioned in his Executor's letter, I suppose, is one I gave him, with Mr. Pope's head. Continue to love me, and believe me ever yours, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CLXXXVI. Prior-Park, November 6th, 1766. I HAVE your kind letter of the 3d. It re joices me to understand that you are in good health ; and that, though the unities of time and/ place are broken by your change of the scene, yet the unity of action (as I am sure it will) will be always kept entire throughout your Drama of Life. the Rectory of Horksley, near Colchester, worth near 300J. a year. This living he soon after left, on a quarrel with his Pa tron's family ; and accepted the vicarage of Newcastle, from the Bishop of Carlisle (Dr. Osbaldeston), whose chaplain he was. He is known, as a prose writer, by many ingenious works ; the chief of which is, Essays on the Characteristics of Lord Shaftes bury. He was a man of honour and probity; but his judgment, lying too much at the mercy of a suspicious temper, betrayed him, on some occasions, into a conduct, which looked like un steadiness, and even ingratitude towards his best friends. But, whatever there was, or seemed to be, of this complexion in his life or writings, must be imputed to the latent constitutional dis order, which ended so fatally. H. 383 I make amends for your absence by conversing with your Works. And could you read mine with as much pleasure, as I know you do with more par tiality, it would be some compensation to us both for the distance into which that drunken whore of Babylori, Fortune, has thrown us. Yet, as pro fuse as she is to those whom she has in keeping, I will say with Tully and with you — " non ita aut " adulatus aut admiratus fortunam sum alterius, ut " me meae pceniteret." Cadell did write to me about the ring and packet, and I have given directions. Perhaps^ if you be not too lazy, you might give me some better account, than I have hitherto had, of the last scenes of this unhappy man. I am glad you get so much time with our great- and amiable Friend, for both your sakes. You are formed by nature for his bosom ;; your gentleness wins> where my roughness, I believe, revolts ; and it would be a sincere pleasure to me to see you first in his confidence. I am glad he talks of seeing us at Christmas: and my Wife charges me to say, both for herself and me, that we shall be doubly happy in having you both together here at that time, if it be not too great an inconvenience to you. I have been just writing my Will ; and Anti christ, who has been long at the head of all mis chief, being at the tail of this, it came into my head to give him the first stroke, and to forestall my Preachers. I am preparing a Sermon, at his 384 and Millar's expence, for the press : and then I shall have but one more to stand before my. Charge, and that will be on the Resurrection :, — if I can get two Lincolris-Inn Sermons on the subject to cotton well together. Dr. Balguy dined with us yesterday ; and to-day leaves Bath for Winchester, in good health. He proposes to visit Cambridge the latter end of next month, and proposes to stay there till he hears Of your return to London, after Christmas. I am glad to hear our friend's Wife is in so to lerable a state as to need nothing but a good physician and a London journey. Dr. Balguy speaks highly of her beauty and her taciturnity. My Wife says the topics of his encomium are ill coupled; I say no: and she, by persisting in her remark, confirms me in my opinion. Pray make my compliments to the Bench, and tell them they do me a deal of honour in placing my Arms (now indeed " Clypei insigne decorum)," amongst their Heroes of old ; and were it not in the neighbourhood of some others of more modern date, my Saracen's Head* would blush for me. Ralph is as good, though not so learned, per haps, as you could wish. He is now going upon Erasmus's Dialogues ; a book long out of fashion, which yet I have recommended to Mr. Graves, as a * The crest of the Bishop's Arms, U. 385 guard against too much poetry within doorsj arid superstition without.* — But apropos of Mr. Graves. My Wife has let him the great house at Claverton, for which he gives g£6Q. a year : and the great gal lery-library is turned into a dormitory: so that where literature generally ends, it here begins. Pray thank Dr. Ross for his hospitality to me when I was at Frome about six weeks ago. If any thing in the publick, or about the publick, happens extraordinary on the opening the Session, make an effort, which is not easy for you to do, for it is in sinking, to acquaint me with what you hear of the paltry intrigues of Courts and Parliaments. But, above all, continue to love me, and to believe that I am ever, &c. LETTER CLXXXVH. Prior-Park, November \5th, 1766. I HAVE your kind letter of the 11th. As to Rousseau, I entirely agree with you, that his long letter to his brother philosopher, Humej shews him to be a frank lunatick. His passion of tears — his suspicion of his friends in the midst of their services — and his incapacity of being set right, all consign him to Monro. You give the true cause too, of this excess of frenzy, which breaks out on c c 386 all occasions, the honest neglect of our country men in their tribute to his importance. For all that Hume says of him on this head, seems to be the truth ; and as it is a truth easily -discoverable from his Writings, his patron could have but one motive in bringing him over (for he was under the protection of Lord Mareshal), and that was cherish ing a man whose Writings were as mischievous to society as his own. Walpole's pleasantry upon him had baseness in fts very conception. It was written when the poor man had determined to seek an asylum in England ; and is therefore justly and generously condemned by D'Aleiribert. This considered, Hume failed both in honour and friendship, not to shew his dis like : which neglect seepis to have kindled the first spark of combustion in this madman's brain. The merits of the two philosophers are soon adjusted. There is an immense distance between their natural genius ; none at all in their excessive vanity ; and much again in their good faith. Rousseau's warmth has made him act the madman in his philosophic enquiries, so that he oft saw not the mischief which he did : Hume's coldness made him not only see, but rejoice in his. But it is neither parts nor logic that has made either of them philosophers, but in fidelity only : for which, to be sure, they equally deserve a Pension. — Had the givers considered the difference between what became them to do in cha rity, by way of protection, and what became them 387 ¦ to do as a reward, by way of pension, they never had been reduced to the low and ignoble expedient of having what they did kept a secret. However, the contestation is very amusing; and I shall be' very sorry if it stops now it is in so good a train. I should be well pleased, particularly, to see so sera phic a madman attack so insufferable a coxcomb as Walpole ; and I think they are only fit for one another. I could not but laugh at your archness, in what you say about Antichrist. You may think, per haps, and not amiss, that a Discourse on the great whore, like that on the little one in Terence, can be, at best, but teaching the spiritual inamorato, cum ratione insanire ; but this may be something ; and not so useless as Parmeno thought it ; — for the madness consult the prophet, Whiston ; and for the reason, the interpreter, Mede. The Dormitory is already filled ; but what inspi rations, as a library, it may give to the forty little sleepers therein, must be left to time, which reveals all things. As to news, wheri you send me any, I had rather you would consider yourself as my Purveyor, than my Intelligencer. It is a kind of daily-bread one can hardly do without ; eaten to-day with appe tite, and gone, one does not care where, to-morrow. I am a great reader of History ; but a greater still of professed Romances : so that you see nothing c c 2 388 comes amiss to a man who consults his appetite more than his digestion. I suppose you have got our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Mason, to town. I wish she may receive all the benefit they propose and hope. LETTER CLXXXVIII. Prior-Park, December 24th, 1166. I HAVE your kind letter of the l8th. I make no doubt but yOu will give us good lights in the sub ject you mention — from what has been said of the way of information by action. I believe I never told you that Needham's book of Chinese Characters being derived from Egyptian, has been sent to China ; and the following account has been returned, that the Mandarins have been shewn the characters on the pretended Egyptian statue, and they can make nothing of them ; that they laugh at Needham's fancy of their borrowing their Characters from Egyptians, and confirm all I say on the subject.— -This Dr. Markham informed me of. The Remonstrants in Rotterdam have translated my book of Grace ; and, hearing of ypUr Defence against Leland, they have wrote to me to desire me 389 to send it to them to translate— they are over-run with Methodists amongst the Anti-Remonstrants. Millar is here, and he said you once had a pur pose, or hesitated at least, whether you should not pass the Christmas with us- This chagrins me, and angers your Friend, as' if I had not properly pressed you. I .was afraid of distressing you.— -You have deprived Mr. Yorke (whom I expect this night) and me of mueh pleasure. LETTER CLXXXIX. Prior-Park, January 3d, 1767. MR. Yorke, Who has spent the holydays with me, has just now left me, to return to the Bar'; when nature, virtue, and superior science, in any age but this, would have conducted their favourite pupil to the Bench. My motions are immaterial to all but my friends; I therefore tell you, I do not propose to go to town till the end of January, or beginning of February. To yOU the compliment of a happy new year is trash. Your virtues will provide that for yourself, whether the year prove stormy or serene; whether the people continue turbulent in scarcity, "or become wantonly dissolved in plenty : for riotous or laxu- 390 ribus they will ever be while they have liberty, which they cannot enjoy without abuse. But it is time to have done. I am relapsing into the odious disease of the times,— Politics. LETTER CXC. February, <1767. MY DEAR FRIEND, I KNEW you to be a wise man ; but not so wise as I find you ; and therefore two or three days ago I wrote you a letter, directed to your chambers in Lincoln's-Inn, which I suppose they will send you. You have done perfectly right in delegating Lincoln's-Inn, this Term, to your assistant. Millar has just left me ; and I have ordered him to write to Cadell, to send you a copy of the Sermons into Leicestershire.. I shall put off my journey to Gloucester, and Visitation, to suit your leisure. I am now thinking more seriopsly of my last volume of the Divine Legation, and my mornings at present are amused with it. I have given a key to some material things in it, in one of these Sermons ; and some disserta tions in others, that will be resumed when I publish (if I live to publish it) the last volume of that Work. 391 In the mean time, nothing can do me more honour than what you say of your sermonizing. With regard to the many Harmonies — I have used none, nor read any: but I imagine that Le Clerc's and Toinard's must be the best ; the last of which Mr. Locke speaks highly of. As to our friend Balguy, I not long since received a letter from him from Cambridge, where he pro posed to spend the Christmas with his friend, the Master of St. John's. From whence, when he heard that you was come to town, he intended to go up, and spend the rest of the winter there on a trial ; So that, if it agreed with him, he would spend every winter there. He mentioned nothing of the state of his health, further than what he had told me at Bath, at the latter end of the year, that he was of late afflicted with an asthma, and that the air at Winchester was too sharp for him. P. S. In applauding your wisdom, I forgot all my selfishness. But, where a whole letter is free from if, it may be allowed to appear in a postscript. Your absence will be a great mortification, as well as loss to us both. 392 LETTEB CXCI. Grosvenor-Square, February 20'ih, 1767. I HAVE yorir kind Letter of the 6th ; and your flattery of me is more delicious to me than tiiat of Courts. Lord Mansfield called on me as soon as I came tp town. The Dedication Was received as you sup posed it would be. I brought, as usual, a bad cold with me to town ; and this being the first day I ventured out of doors, it was employed, as in duty bound, at Court, it being a levee^day. A buffoon Lord in waiting . (you may guess whom I mean) was Very busy marshaling the circle ; and he said to me, without ceremony — " Move forward ; you clog up, the door-way ."— I re plied, with as little, ct Did nobody ehg np the King's " door-stead more than I, there would be room for " all honest men." This brought the man to himself, When the King came up to me,* he asked " why I did not come to town before ?" I.said, " I under stood there was no business going forward in the House, in which I could be of service to his Ma jesty." He replied, " He supposed the severe storm of snow would have brought me up." I replied, " I was under cover of a very warm house." 393 You see, by all this, how unfit I am for Courts ; so, let us leave them. Dr. Balguy is in toWn, and laments your absence. Mr. Mason called on me the other day. He is grown extremely fat, and his wife extremely lean — ¦ indeed, in the last stage of a consumption. I en quired of her health, He said3 she was something better : and that, I suppose, encouraged him to come but. But Dr. Balguy tells me, that Heber- ben says she is irretrievably gone ; and has touched upon it to him, and ought to do it to her,— Where the terror of such a sentence may impede the Doc tor's endeavours to save, the pronouncing it would be very indiscreet. But in a consumption confirmed, it is avrork of charity, as the patient is' always de luded with 'hopes to the very last breath. Publie matters grow worse and worse. When they are at the worst, they will mend themselves ; if (as is the fashionable system) things are left to the care of matter and motion. Motion certainly does its part ; if there be any failure, it will be in sluggish matter. And now, as you say, let us come to business. It is said that you and I should have no better (as honest Lopez says in the Spanish Curate), "Than ringing all* — in to a rout of dunces." I propose to have my Visitation between hay, and com harvest. But my officers are so ignorant of this proper Vacancy, that I doubt we must have 394 recourse to your Brother to acquaint us with the precise interval. I have fixed on this as most com modious to you : for I suppose hay-harvest will not be quite ended in Gloucestershire by the 8th of July. I could not but smile at your putting in a caveat so early, against our asking you to return with us to Prior-Park. My Wife is well, and always, yours. I have left half my soul at Claverton, in good health, and in such dispositions as I could wish. When any thing befals me, I not only expect you should be a Father to him, but such a Father as he shall have lost. My dearest Friend, ever yours, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CXCII. Grosvenor-Square, March 19th, 1767. AFTER turning and revolving the time of Visitation with the parties concerned much in our thoughts, we could fix upon none commodious, but to begin it at Spdbury, Monday the 15th of June, and so go through as usual. I hope this will not disaccommodate you, for you may make an ample compensation for Trinity-term, by coming to town 395 a Sunday or two earlier than you intended, and giving the Benchers a Sermon on Easter-day and Whitsun-day. I thank you kindly for your affectionate letter of the 4th, and the tender sentiments it conveys. I forgot to tell you, that when I came to town, Lord Mansfield had sent to your chambers, to invite you to dinner, as he told me. He has got so entire a conquest over his antagonists, that his glory is at the highest. And the House of Lords would not go on to try their appeals till he could attend, after the sittings at Guild-hall. LETTER CXCIII. Grosvenor-Square, March 31st, 1767. I HAVE your kind Letter of the 28th. The civilities you receive from Lincolris-Inn make you too solicitous for their satisfaction. I believe I guess at your side wind. Some of your female audience are much taken with you ; and, you know, such are never for sparing the body or the brains of their fa vourites. This falls hard upon your poor assistant ; and it is your fault, who should have contrived to please less. But I desired this side wind to say no thing of this to you, and he said he would not. I knew your delicacy and complaisance in this matter, 396 and I saw no reason they should be expended to so little purpose. If really your assistant can give no satisfaction to reasonable people; I would have you remove him ; —so much you owe to a Society which rates you so highly ; — but not till you be weU assured of one who will please better. Then you may contrive to do it without offence to the present man. But this affair will keep cold. If you preach at Lincolris-inn from Easter Sun day to Whitsunday inclusively, you will make ample reeompence for Trinity-term. But you shall be absolute master of your own determinations in this matter. I rejoice that we shall see you so soon in town. I have much chat of various kinds to entertain you with : but nothing so pleasing to me as a tite a tite with Lord and Lady Mansfield the other day. — Speaking of you, he said, " Mr: Hurd is a great fa vourite of my Lady's ;" she replied, " it was very true;" and on that, mentioned your manners and your parts in the most advantageous terms. He joined with her, and then spoke of your advance ment in the Chureh, as a thing he most wished. So that for the future you must not only call him myt friend, but yours likewise. I had not seen poor Mason of some time ; and this morning I saw in the papers, that his wife is just now dead, at the Hot-wells, at Bristol. There was no hopes of her for some time ; so that, the 397 stroke not being sudden, will I hope be the less se verely felt, after the first violence of the shock._ P. S. When Mr. Yorke was With me at Prior-Park, in our miscellaneous conversations, he mentioned to me (as what I should do) the collecting toge ther the most material of my correspondences in the course of many years, and putting them in order in a book. I have gone so far into the project, as to collect together what I could find of the most considerable ; it will cost me more time, to put them in order of time. I could have wished for some of my answers^ which would have made some of them more intelligible : but as I never took any copies, but where I was afraid of misrepresentations, these were extremely rare. LETTER CXCIV. Mr. HURD to the BISHOP of GLOUCESTER. MY DEAR LORD, I WOULD not set out from home, without sending one word before me to thank you for your last kind letter, and to tell you that I hope to dine with your Lordship, and Mrs. Warburton, on Easter Sunday. 398 I had not my intelligence from the quarter you suppose, which makes me believe there may be the more in it. Your Lordsliip takes me for a philosopher ; or you would not have tempted my vanity, by letting me know what Lord and Lady Mansfield do me the honour to say of me. I most heartily approve Mr. Yorke's proposal about the correspondence. A man of eminence owes it to himself, to put together all such letters and papers as he would wish to have preserved, and to destroy the rest. There is otherwise no security against the folly or indiscretion of those, into whose hands they may afterwards come: as we see; just now, in the case of Swift. You can not interpose too many of your own letters, which will make the most valuable part of the collection, But more of this, by your fire-side at Grosvenor- Square. MY DEAR LORD, Your most affectionate humble servant, R. HURD. Thurcaston, April 11th, 1767. 399 LETTER CXCV. Mr. HURD to the BISHOP of GLOUCESTER. MY DEAR LORD, I FIND myself at leisure to recollect my promisej or rather your kind injunctions to me, to write one word from this place. The good old woman your Lordship so oft en quires after, is surprisingly well. Her decay is so gradual, that I scarcely perceive any alteration in her health or spirits, since I saw her about this time last year. She is very thankful for your obliging remembrance of .her, and still more for your pater nal blessing. I suppose this day will bring your scattered family together. If the weather has been no "better in the West than it has been here, Mrs. Warburton and her fellow travellers would lose much of the amuse ment they proposed to themselves in returning by Mr. Hoare's. However I hope they are returned to you safe and well, and then they may see finer things at Prior-Park than they left behind them. Your Lordship is now withdrawn from the indo lent labours of Gloucester to your strenuous occupa- 400 tions at Prior-Park ; and chiefly to the prosecution of your great plan, which, as Horace said of another important work, " ^Eque neglectum, pueris senibusque nocebit," I mean, the rising generation and the future ; for as to the grown gentlemen of the pesent age, they must be left, I believe, to their own devices. _ Among my other manifold defects, one is, that I can never do any thing but at home: and even there, I do so little, that a good accountant would be apt to reckon it for nothing. But if it be only for amusement, I shall there resume my old task of sermonizing for Lincolris-Inn. The best part -of my course, will be an illustration of some difficult and obnoxious parts of the Gospel history : for I agree with your Lordship, that the internal evi dence, if one is so happy as to bring any of it out, adds much to the weight and splendour of the exter nal. You see how magnificently I talk of my pul pit essays : but without a little self-flattery, how should one have the resolution, in such a time as this, to attempt any thing ? Adieu* my dear Lord; and believe me always the faithful and devoted servant of you and yours, R. HURD. Birmingham, Saturday, July 18th, 1767. 401 LETTER CXCVI. Prior-Park, July 28th, 1767. MY DEAR MR. ARCHDEACON, FOR such the public papers (which men tion, with one consent, the death of Dr. Geekie) invite me to call you; though Pearson's . silence I can account for by nothing but by his being absent from London, or sick. However, a post or two, I suppose, will free me from all uncertainty, and make me happy in giving every public testimony of my love to the best of friends. Toup has sent me his Episiola Crilica, addressed to me. You will be pleased with his conclusion : " Atque hie finem facio Epistolse prolixiori : in qua *' siquid, currente rota, inconsulte aut intemperanter " nimis, qui mos nostrorum hominum est, in Ben- " tleium nostrum dixi, id omne pro indicto velim : " Bentleium inquam, Britanniae nostra decus im- " mortale : a cujus praeceptis, si quid in Graecis " video, me plus profecisse quam ab omnibus omni- " um aetatum Criticis, gratus agnosco : quem nemo " vituperare ausit, nisi fungus ; nemo non laudet, " nisi Momus." D D 402 LETTER CXCVII. PriorrPark, August' 6 th, 1161. I THANK you for two fevpurs since I saw you last. This morning I received tl}e inclosed |rom Pearson. You will see it is of unavoidable' necessity that you should set put immediately for Prior-Park, for *f woujd not make so ill a present to my friend as of a disputable title. — I am impatient (as I have fold Pearson) to have the good Archdeacon secured against the accidents of mortality, as well as against the chicane of lau) ; for, first or last, every thing comes within the jaws of those two mon sters : and all the favours, shewn to the best, is, to be last swallowed. M, y Wife bids me tell you, she was pever so well reconciled to the law as since now she understands it will force you to Prior-P$rk. 403 LETTER CXCVIII. Prior-Park, November 10th, 1767. I HAVE your kind letter of the 3d. I have not seen the Dean since his return ; and hope I shall not, till the ebullition of his German ferment be well over : nor am I likely, for this is the month in which the Dean and Chapter divide the spoil : for money makes all speculation subside, as grease does all tumult in heady liquors. I agree with you as to the state of the inferior Clergy. The Church enriched them, and forbade them to marry : the State impoverished them, and gave them wives to complete their kindness. You are justly punished for your curiosity, that, when — r- would not satisfy you, you must needs read Gregory the Great, Preacher of the Temple. You may well be disgusted with what ypu have so long had, without seeking, the character of an emi nent Preacher : when of the two roads that lead to it, you took the round-about way of reason and elo quence, instead of that shorter and more direct; found out by those who only follow their noses arid open their throats, without trusting to their own sense, but to the want of it in all besides. d d 2 404 LETTER CXCIX. Prior- Park, November 18th, 1161. MACTE novd virtute tud I I embrace you in fancy, crusted over, as you are, and shining under a transparent varnish of the richest antiquarian dust. We are both worshipers and inamoratos of this Mother of the Gods, Antiquity ; but to the pro fane, we hide ourselves in mystery, and go invisible, like the German Rosicrucians. Seriously, my friend, let us finish this good work * in honour of Lincoln's- Inn. At present I suppose it is but a skeleton, or a collection of dry bones, like those of our deceased Brethren of laborious memory ; but you will give it the Promethean fire, at your leisure. — Let Gataker, with his confutation of the loud lies of Lillie, never be forgot, when you speak of him. When you see Dr. Heberden, pray communicate to him an unexpected honour I have lately received. The other day, word was brought me from below, that one Sir William Browne sent Up his name, and should be glad to kiss my hand. I judged it to be the famous Physician', whom I had never seen, nor had the honour to know. When I came down into * An account of the Preachers of Lincoln's-Inn, hastily sketched out for my amusement, but never finished. H. 405 the drawing-room, I was accosted by a little, round, well-fed gentleman, with a large muffin one hand, a small Horace, open, in the other, and a spying- glass dangling in a black ribbon at his button. After- the first salutation, he informed me that his vis.it was indeed to me ; but principally, and in the first place, to Prior-Park, which had so inviting a prospect from below ; and he did not doubt but, on examination, it would sufficiently repay the trouble he had given himself of coming up to it on foot. We then took our chairs ; and the first thing he did or said, was to propose a doubt to me concerning a passage in Horace, which all this time he had still open in his hand. Before I could answer, he gave me the solution of this long mis understood passage : and, in support of his explaT nation, had the charity to repeat his own para phrase of it, in English verse, just come hot, as * he said, from the brain. When this and chocolate were over, having seen all he wanted of me, he desired to see something more of the seat ; and particularly what he called the monument, by which I understood him to mean, the Prior's tower, with your inscription. Accordingly I or dered a servant to attend him thither ; and, when he had satisfied his curiosity, either to let him out from the park above ipto the down, or from the garden below into the road. Which he chose, I peyer asked; and so this honourable visit ended. Hereby you will understand that the design of all 406 this was, to be admired. And, indeed, he had my admiration to the full ; but for nothing so much, as for his being able, at past eighty, to perform this expedition on foot, in no good weather, and with all the alacrity of a boy, both in body and mind. The malady amongst the horses is now so uni versal, that the Ministry will find it difficult to get up their distant members. In this distress they may apply, as they have always done, to the assistance of asses. You who are wont to laugh at human distresses, when occasioned by vice or folly, should you not burst your sides on seeing a Cornish or a Scotch member, impatiently dragging himself through all incumbrances, in a post-chaise, with a cortege of four or six asses ? — Before the Sessions be over, I will lay my life, you will see greater and more ridiculous distresses. But what is this to you, who have the force and skill, " munita teneVe " Edita doctrina sapientum templa' serena ; " Despicere unde queas alios passimque videre " Errare atque viam palanteis quaerere vitae." My rheumatic shoulder has submitted for a time, though to a good deal of physical discipline. 1 have at present a kind of inflammation in my left eye; I suppose from a cold, and have as many remedies proposed as visitors. You know you are an oracle to my Wife, and sOmethmg more- to me. But she says you are as 407 short, and sometimes as obscure, as she has been told the oracles, of old were, whenever you • speak of news, or of chit-chat, or of any thing within her compass ; witness, she says, the three or four words you barely afforded for your dinner with our friends in B. S. And as a further instance of your absence in such-like articles, shfe observes, you have put G. S.-for'B. S. which, however, when she cools, she turns to a coinplimeht On herself, as if G. S. was stronger engraved on your fancy than B. S. LETTER CC. Prior-Park, Decefnber toth, 1767. xOUR convitfion always convinces toe. I had a preface to the collection*, which may serve for some other occasion : in which I take notice how our philosophers' had of late shifted their ground, and removed into more fashionable quarters. They had long intrenched themselves in,- and attacked us .from, the fastnesses of philosophy and theology ; in which their dulness had so far got the upper hand of their impiety, that they had tired out even their allies, the great ; to whom, besides, philosophy was * Of observations on Voltaire's ignorant and malignant censures of the Jewish law and history. The Bishop had gone some way in methodizing those observations for public view, but was pre vailed upon by me to drop the design. See Life, p. 123, 124. ff. 408 too, crabbed, and theology too unconcerning. Their learning lay in history, extracts of which, under the names of summaries and general histories, are the most entertaining, as well as most efficacious vehicle of impiety : for the miseries and disorders of human life, seen in their utmost malignity in civil trans actions, aid these philosophers in supplying those prejudices against Revelation, which their malice long sought, and their reasonings much wanted. Their readers had heard that the Founder of Christi anity promised peace on earth, and good-will to mankind ; and they saw the same train of miseries triumphant after, as before the publication of the faith. And Divines of all denominations preaching this reform of morals as the great end of Christianity, and they .seeing this end n°t obtained, they became an easy prey to these philosophical historians. Had Divines taught them the true and proper and peculiar ehd of this Revelation, they would then have seen that universal history afforded the most legiti mate prejudice in favour pf Christianity ; and this new cookery had been the very worst vehicle for these public poisoners, &c. But they received many other advantages in thus changing the method of their attack, such as, &c. &c. But I am tired, and shall tire you. My dearest Friend, ever yours, W. GLOUCESTER. 409 LETTER CCI. Prior-Park, January 23d, 1768. SINCE you left us, I have had a violent return of my disorder, not likely to be removed without the assistance of Dr. Charlton, which I have had for some days. We hope we have conquered it ; but it has left us both in some doubt whether it was the stone or gravel, or an attack of that epidemic disorder which, here, spares nobody, and appears in all kind of shapes. It has left me, as it does others, very low-spirited, which I bear (as: I do all the other evils of life) as well as I can. I agree to every thing in Mr. Yorke's kind letter : and so, by this post, I have wrote him word, and desire that every thing may be expedited and com pleted, just as he and you shall conclude on. Re member me kindly to our friend, your brother Arch deacon. He is a rake, when compared to such a prude as you are. For your virtues, you should be always yoked together, in friendship ; just as, for their sins, those two characters generally are in matrimony.P. S. I had almost forgot to tell you that Lord Lyttelton has wrote me a very polite Letter, in forming me that he has sent me his History by the Bath coach. 410 LETTER CCII. Prior-Park, February 24th, 1168. I. AM glad to understand by yours of the 19th, that Thurcaston promises to set you right in your health. I do intend to write to the two Chiefs in a little time. Instead of ^400. I have destined g£500. for this business ; thinking, on reflection, that ^400. would he too scanty for the purpose. The ^500. being in 4 per cent, annuities^ will always bear that interest. The course four years, if three Sermons a year; or three years, if four Sermons. So much for that matter at present. I hope, that not only my Lecture, but yourself, will be benefited, in repu tation at least, by its commencing with you. Nor will you be hurried; for, at soonest, it will not begin, till after the next long vacation, or with the new year. You talk (and well) of your golden age qf study, long past. For myself, I can only say, I have the same appetite for knowledge and learned converse, I ever had : though not the same appetite for writing and printing. It is time to begin to live for myself; I have lived for others longer than they have de served of me. I have had from Dr. Balguy a curious letter of what passed in the House of Commons, on 411 Sir George Savile's motion for bringing in his Bill for limiting the rights of the Crown, by prescrip tion. He was supported admirably well by our friend, who, mentioning the case of the Duke of Portland (indeed the occasion of the motion), was answered, as to that point, by Norton, with a chal lenge to debate it then, or elsewhere ; and, in a manner, according to his wont, a little brutally, though of the same side, as to the main question of subjecting the Crown to the prescriptive laws of society. The truth was, that Norton, when Attor ney-general, had approved of, and advised the Court measure against the Duke of Portland. The Oppo sition lost the motion, but by a very small majority of 134 against 114. Two or three posts ago I received a letter from Mr. Yorke, in which are these words : " Mr. " Hurd is retiring to his hermitage, till Easter " Term : Mrs. Yorke is become an attentive and l( admiring hearer of him. Her good works must *' supply my defects." — As yours now supply mine in that place. 4i2 LETTER CC1II, Prior-Park, 3/arc,h 3 1st, '1168. J)lD not I hope ^nd believe that a hurt imagination guided your pen in the beginning of your Letter of the 26th, you would make me veiy unhappy. But I consider this month ' and this season as the most unfriendly to the health of mind and body, of any throughout the whole year. But do not deprive me of all comfort, when public matters seem to be grown desperate, and Governr ment is dissolving apace. I always thought Wilkes possessed by a diabolical spirit ; but now a legion of them have possessed the people. The wise counsel lors of Pharaoh are become foolish. Either they have lost all sense of right and wrong, or have no power to make a separation between them, and assign toeachits due. Things are now come to a crisis, and perhaps must be worse .before they can be bet ter. One of the drama, in a play of Naevius, asks— -r " Cedd, qui vestram rempublicam tantam amisistis tarn cito ?" The other answers, " Proveniebant oratores novi, stulti, adolescentuli." This has at length encouraged a desperate cut-throat Outlaw, openly to insult the Constitution, and stab it in its vitals. I lately received a Letter from our Friend about the proper title of the Lecture. I sent him my 413 thoughts ; and the inclosed is his answer. I think I told you, I wrote to Lord Mansfield, ac quainting him with my purpose. I have inclosed his answer likewise, for your amusement ; for you cer tainly want amusement much, of some kind or other. Concerning my own health, as a matter of the least consequence, I put it last. My winter has been more uncomfortable, by interrupted health, than usual. I have had two fits of a disorder with all the symptoms of the gravel, except the not void ing any. After the first, as there had been an inter mission often years, I was in hopes of another con siderable respite. But it returned in a few weeks, and was subdued by the same discipline. We are a little doubtful of the true cause, except that the gall-bladder had a considerable share in the disor der. By Charlton's direction, I am now drinking of a German spring, called the Seltzer waters, pretty much of the taste of Spa waters, with a brackish addition. You must understand that1 this water is but just come into fashion, yet thought' fit to be imposed on the most unfashionable of man kind. — The College of Physicians have lately set up a kind of Physical Transaction, in which I read with much pleasure, a discourse of Dr. Heberden, on common, or drinking water ; for it has relieved me from an apprehension that our water, Which runs over a lime-stone, and has, on boiling, a large sediment of white sand, was bad for gravelly com plaints. 414 LETTER CCIV. Prior-Park, July 5th, 1768. MY DEAREST DOCTOR, I HOPE this will find you well come home, after the honour you have given to, and the honour you have received from, your University. Since your last, my correspondence with Mr. Yorke has been frequent. In his letter of the 27th past, speaking of you, and saying, Mr. Hurd has left us; we talk often and much of your Lordship, He has given me more pleasure, $e. $c. gave me occasion in my answer to write thus : " The most *' considerable part of the small merit I can pretend " to with you, is bringing to your knowledge, and *' urtdpr your patronage, a man so worthy of your " friendship as Mr. Hurd. If friendship be the the matters in another sheet, which I would have inclosed. But, happily for you, the parts of the argument are so enchained with one another, that not less than ten sheets would have satisfied (if that did) one so penetrating and accurate as yourself; We think so much alike in every thing, that the Bench to me is only a wooden Bench ; and as to the House itself, I am every now and then ready to say, " Spjendida nobilium decreta valpte SophPrum." The inclosed will occasion many Various senti-r ments in you. — I wish, with you, success to the Bishop of Bristol, though he played the fool in the affair you mention. But that will not hinder his exchanging his rectory for a deanery. The matter indeed seems to stick ; but as his Residentiaryship (half the Deanship) is said to be destined for Dr. Egerton's commendam, I suppose it will not stick long. I think I see a fetter lie, which I am to frank for my Wife, by this post, with my own. However various may be the contents, our love to the Arch deacon is equally fervent and the same, which is not the commonest thing in matrimonial logic : I mean, a perfect agreement in eodem tertio. Here it is ; and therefore there must be something alike between the two, notwithstanding the difference of sex, temper, and time of life. 423 P. S. I should have, hinted to you in my last, when I sent the inclosed sheet, that it aimed to confute the triumphant reasoning of unbelievers, parti- ' eulariy Tindal, who say redemption is a fable: . for. the only means of regaining God's favour, which they eternally confound with immortality, is that simple one which Natural Religion teaches, viz. repentance. To confute this, it was neces sary to shew that restoration to a free gift, and the recovery of a claim, were two very different things.— -The common answer was, that Natural Religion does not teach reconciliation on repent ance; which if it doth not, it teaches nothing, or something worse than nothing* LETTER CCIX. tJr. HURD to the BISHOP of GLOUCESTER. I HAVE your Lordship's kind letter of the 10th. — I believe repose will be thought more proper for me than a journey. It will take some time before the sinus is perfectly healed and closed : but the cure is out of all doubt, and is obstructed by no bad circumstance whatsoever. 424 Your Lordship and Mrs. Warburton are very good to feel so tenderly for me. It was a happiness to myself, as well as you, that you did not know the worst of the case, till it was over. But you must not say a word of expehce, which is altogether trifling. You forget, my dear Lord, that you have made me rich, and that my generous physician will not be prevailed upon to take any thing. So that I shall have only my surgeon and apothecary • to pay, who are more reasonable, though not less skilful, than Channing and Ranby. — By the way, I am much taken with my surgeon, Mr. Pott. He is a lively, well-conditioned,- sensible man. He is, besides, a writer of eminence in his profession, I have just now read a Treatise of his on my own case ; from which I learn that he has invented, or, at least, brought into more general use, a new me thod of treating this disorder, infinitely more expeditious, more safe, and more easy, than the common one ; which yet has been followed by such surgeons as Cheselden with us, and De la Faye, and Le Dran, at this time in France. He has also, I am told, improved the practice of Surgery very much in other instances. In short, he is a genius in his way; and I think myself very happy in having fallen into such hands. I mentioned the Life of Petrarch, which I have now gone through : it is extremely entertaining. Were ever two men so like each other, as this citi zen of Rome, and the citizen of Geneva? Great 425 elegance of mind and sensibility of temper in our two citizens — the same pride of virtue and love of liberty in each ; but these principles easily over powered by the ruling passion, viz. an immoderate vanity and self-importance. One sees in both the same inconstancy and restlessness of humour, the same caprice, and spleen, and delicacy. Both in genious and eloquent in a high degree; both impelled by an equal ^ enthusiasm, though directed towards different objects ; Petrarch's, towards the glory of the Roman name ; Rousseau's, towards his idol of a state of nature. Both querulous, impatient, un happy : the one religious indeed, and the other an esprit fort : but may not Petrarch's spite to Baby lon be considered, in his time, as a species of free- thinking ?— Both susceptible of high passions in love and friendship; but, of the two, the Italian more constant, and less umbrageous. In a. word, both mad; but Rousseau's madness of a darker vein ; Petrarch's, the finer and more amiable phrensy. If ever I write a book of Parallels, you see I have materials for one chapter; as Erasmus and Cicero would furnish a good subject for another. The colours, in which Petrarch paints the Papacy, are black enough. > But his idea of Babylon seems taken from the resemblance he found between the exile of the Roman Church at Avignon, and the Jewish Captivity on the banks of the Euphrates, and not from the book of Revelatipns. When 426 Urban V. removed to the seven hills, his Roman pride was satisfied, and we thenceforth hear no thing more of Babylon. Adieu, nay dear Lord ; and continue, if you can in conscience, to love me as you seem to have done, when you wrote your late kind letter to Dr. Heber- den. By all titles Yours, R. HURD, Lincoln' s-rJnn, December 11 th, 176:8,: LETTER CCX, Prior-Park^ December. 1 9th, 1768. , I BEGAN to grow uneasy till your kind letter of the 17th came in this morning; though a post or two ago, a letter from Dr. Heberden (for which I beg you will give him my best thanks) as sured me every thing was in a very promising way. We think ourselves, indeed, very happy that we did not know the worst of the case till it was over. You are a strange man ! The expence cannot be. trifling. Therefore, once again, »i know that my purse is yours ; so: do not spare it, to straiten your self. Pott will be my favourite, if he does his duty in- this instance. Dr. Heberden speaks highly of him* 427 Your Parallel * re a charming thing, What you say in jest of a Book of Parallels, I hope, may in time be turned to good earnest. You have a pe culiar talent (for what have you not?) for this enchanting .sort of composition. It is true, that it is Avignon, and not Rome, Which is called Babylon ; and it is the captivity, and not the whore of Babylon, that ran in his head, as it did in mine. Adieu, .my dearest friend ! Let me know all the steps of your recovery ; which will be as pleasing as it would have been painful to know all the steps of your disorder: I hope you did not acquaint your Mother with the danger of your disaster. W. GLOUCESTER, LETTER CCXI. Prior-Park, December 26th, 1768. MY DEAREST FRIEND, YOU make meyery happy in your assurance to me of your perfect recovery. Had I lived in the time of Tully, and in his friendship, as I live in yours, I should have sacrificed to iEsculapius in behalf of your honest and skilful surgeon. * Of Petrarch and Rousseau. //. 428 You give me equal satisfaction in the promise yo» make of never declining me nor my friendshipy when it is convenient or useful to you-. A Bishop*, more or less, in this world, is no thing; and perhaps of as small account in the next. I used to despise him for his Antiquarianism ; but ©f late^ since I grew old and dull myself, I culti vated an acquaintance with him for the sake of what formerly kept us asunder. Had he lived a little longer, I should have been capable of succeeding Mm in the high station of his Presidentship. — We laugh at the wrong heads we neither care for, nor have to do with ; but it is otherwise when our friends are struck with this malady. It seems poor Towne tbowght my silence (which was so short that I did not advert to it) was mysterious; so he wrote me the inclosed ; which, together with my answer on the blank, it is not worth while to send back. 1 took the liberty to mention your name ; for his Theme wanted an example. - Ralph is now at home, and taller, better, and wiser ; if not by some inches, yet by some lines. As to his learning, I leave that to his Master, with the same implicit faith that a good Catholic does his salvation to the Church. You now only want our dear Friend Dr. Balguy's company, which, if he be a man of his word, you will have, I suppose, in a few days, and then he * Bishop of Carlisle, Dr. Lyttelton. H. 429 will be assistant in our Correspondence. I desire no larger a compass than you two will comprehend r the circle will not only be large, but perfect, while one leg is fixed, and the other always running. JIY DEAREST MR. HURD, ever yours, W.GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCXII. Dr. HURD to the BISHOP of GLOUCESTER. 1 LEFT London with the greater pleasure, in hopes of drawing your Lordship so soon after me. In my way hither, I digressed a little (to let you see that I have the seeds of Antiquarianism in me), to take a view of Gorhambury, when I might with equal ease have taken a survey of the modern. finery at Looton Hoo, and had it not in my power to visit both. This antient seat, built by Sir Nicholas Bacon,, and embellished by Lord Bacon, Mr* Meautys, and Sir Harbottle Grimstone, successively masters of it3 stands very pleasantly on high ground in the midst of a fine park, well wooded. There is a gentle descent from it to a pleasant vale, which 430 again rises gradually into hills at a distance, and those well cultivated, or finely planted. The hoUse itself is of the antique structure, with turrets, but low, and covered With a white stucco, not unlike the old part of your Lordship's palace at Gloucester. It is built round a court, nearly square, the front to the South, with a little turn, I think, to the East. The rooms are numerous, but small, except the hall, which is of a moderate size, but too nar row for the height : the chapel neat, and well-pro portioned, but damp and fusty, being (as is usual with chapels belonging to Lay Lords) seldom or never used. On the West side of the house (but see the op posite page) runs a gallery, about the length of that at Prior-Park ; the windows, especially the end window to the West, finely painted ; the sides co vered with pictures of the great men of the time, I mean the time of the Stuarts ; and the ceiling, which is coved, ornamented with the great men of antiquity, painted in compartments. At the end of the gallery is a return, which serves for a billiard- room. Underneath the gallery and billiard-room, is a portico for walking, and that too painted. I should have observed, that the chamber-floor of the front is a Library, furnished, as it seemed to me on a slight glance, with the books of the time, as the gallery is with the persons. The furniture altoge ther antique, and suitable to the rest: It is impos sible that any fine man or woman of these times should endureto live at this plaee : but the whole has 431 an air of silence, repose, and recollection, very suitable to the idea one has of those Shades, that to Bacon could retreat afford ; and to me is one of the most delicious seats I ever saw. From this scene of beauty and wisdom, to Thur caston, is a Pindaric transition. Yet I think, if you saw it just now, put in tolerable order against my coming, and by this sun, you would' almost pardon the motto I have fancied for it, and (if I dealt in mottos) should wrrite over my door " Ha? latebrae dulces, etiam (si credis) amoenae." I shall think every day ten, till I hear of your library moving towards Gloucester, and your Lord ship being on the way to Leicester. Adieu, my dear Lord ; and believe me in all truth, and with all affection, ^ Ever yours, R. HURD. Thurcasim, June 14th, 1169. - S. E. House round a court. W. .« Gallery. N. 432 LETTER CCXIII. Grosvenor-Square, June 19th, 1169. I HAVE the pleasure of your kind and agree able letter of the 14th, on your arrival to your seat of Virtue and the Muses. Your aiccount of Gorhambury is very graphical. The Library, according to your account, has been an heir-loom, ever since the time of Bacon. You say your antiquarian taste drew you thither. I rather think it was superstition and idolatry, such as I am seized with, whenever I think of Bishop's- Bourn : to which you and I must positively make a pilgrimage, if we live to next Spring. Last Thursday we dined with Mr. and Mrs. Yorke, at Highgate. It was not a good day ; but we walked on his terrace, and round his domain. He has improved it much. But, in contempt of your latebro3 dulces, you enter the terrace by the most extraordinary gate that ever was. Hfs carpen ter, I suppose, wanting materials for it, got together all the old garden-tools, from the scythe to the ham mer, and has disposed them in a most picturesque manner, to form this gate : which,' painted white, and viewed at a distance, represents the most ele gant Chinese railing : though I suspect- the patriotic carpenter had it in his purpose to ridicule that fan- 433 tastic taste. Indeed, his new-invented gate is full of recondite learning, and might well pass for Egyp tian, interpreted by Abbe Pluche. If it should chance to survive the present members of the Antiquarian Society (as it well may) I should not despair of its finding a distinguished place amongst their future Transactions, in a beautiful copperplate. — I was buried in these contemplations, when Mr. Yorke, as if ashamed of, rather than glorifying in, his artifi-' cer's sublime ideas, drew me upon the terrace. Here we grew serious ; and the fine scenes of Nature and Solitude around us, drew us from the Bar of the House and the Bishops' Bench, to the memory of our early and ancient friendship, and to look into ourselves. After many mutual compliments on this head; I said, " that if at any time I had been want- '* ing in this sacred relation, I had made him ample " amends by giving him the friendship ofthe present " Preacher of Lincoln' s-inn." His sincerity made him acknowledge the greatness of the benefit: but his politeness made him insist upon it, " that it was not a " debt, which he had received at my hands, but a free " gift." Let it be what it will, I only wish he may shew the world, he knows the value of it. This I know, that his Father, amidst all his acquaintance, chose the most barren and sapless, on which dry plants to shower down his most refreshing "pain, as Chapman very sensibly called it. This morning we set out for Prior-Park. And as the removal of my books, and their being safely F F 434 lodged at Gloucester, will take up some time; and as my Wife loves to do things in form, i. e. to have my advice without following it, will require my presence some time longer; I ventured to comply with the Bishop of Bath and Wells' request, to con firm for him the 10th of July. On the 1 1th, I am in hopes of setting forward for Thurcaston. But I shall write again before that time, to ascertain mat ters. LETTER CCXIV. Prior-Park, Jidy 5th, 1769. MY DEAREST FRIEND, WHEN I wrote last to you, I forgot to tell you that I was then labouring on my old rheumatic disorder. I have not yet got rid of it. Youv may judge what I have suffered. I now (after an infinite deal of. physic) set it at defiance, and let it take its course. -v\ ... I hope to be, at the Cranes in Leicester early in the. afternoon on Friday the 14th instant. Till that our happy meeting, adieu. Yours for ever, W. GLOUCESTER. 435 LETTER CCXV. Prior-Park, July 9th, 1769. MY DEAR SIR, TO-MORROW was to have been the Con firmation for the Bishop of Bath and Wells, at Bath. But I find myself so ill of a feverish disor-* der, that I am laid up, and am in the course of a saline draught. By next, shall give you more news of me. Till then I am, as usual, unalterably yours, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCXVI. MY DEAREST FRIEND, A FEVER prevents my seeing you at the time I projected. And, what is worse, my Wife will not suffer me to take the journey at all. But let not your honest heart be alarmed. It is one of those fevers I am subject to, and which has always been removed by saline draughts. Ever yours, W. GLOUCESTER. - July 10th, 1169. F F 2 436 LETTER CCXVII. Gloucester, August 11th, 1769. MY DEAREST FRIEND, ON getting hither (which I thank God I have done in tolerable health) I had so many little things to adjust, before J could think myself at home, and had so many visitors to receive, that before I could sit down to, this, the hour of the post was past, which concerned me much, for Saturday will be the next ppst night. Let me thank you, without ceremony, for the hospitality and sincere pleasure I enjoyed the whole fortnight I was with you at Thurcaston. Let me be remembered to Mr. Babington and his Brother- in-law the Doctor. And let me still enjoy the fruits of that love and friendship, which is the honour and happiness of my life. W. GLOUCESTER. 437 LETTER CCXVIII. Gloucester, September 4th, 1769. 1 HAVE received your kind letter of advice : and shall (in the banker s phrase) accept and honour the contents. You know, by experience, how difficult it is, when We have once got into a wicked habit of thinking, to leave it off. All I can promise is^ if that will satisfy yoU, to think to no purpose : and this I khow by experience I can do ; having done so for many a good day. I think you have oft heard me say, that my delicious season is the Autumn, the season which gives most life and vigour to my mental faculties. The light mists, or, as Milton calk them, the steams, that rise from the fields in one of these riiornings, give the same relief to the vieWs, that the blue of the plum (to take my ideas from the season) gives to the appetite. But I now enjoy little of this pleasure, compared to what I formerly had in an Autumn-morning, when I used with a book in my hand, to traverse the delightful lawns and hedge-rows round-about the town of Newark, the unthinking place of my nativity. Besides, my rheumatism noW keeps me within in a morning, till the sun has exhaled the blue off the plum. 438 And that prostitute, Fortune, will make me no amends, by enabling me to draw, and keep under my roof, the man whose converse has all the fresh ness, the variety"; the riches, and the gay colouring of this happy season. And yet, as Shakespear says of the figured clouds in a gilded evening, that " TJiey are black Vesper's pageants" so I am forced to say of Autumn, that it too soon gives place to grisly Winter. Your friend is yet at Bath. Every thing sold extremely well at the sale, and all went off!, ex cept the magnificent set of Chelsea China, which she took care should not go at an under-value ; because it is ready money at any time in London. She is uncertain whether she can get hither by the music meeting. Lord Kerry's people have had the house delivered up to them. In a letter I received this morning from her are these words : " I shall " not like to see Prior-Park now it is so stript. " But I never reflect on my having quitted it, " without satisfaction and joy." — As I have the same satisfaction, so wish us both joy. 439 LETTER CCXIX. Gloucester, September 23d, 1169. I HAVE your two letters of the 15 th and 10th instant to acknowledge; and am extremely obliged to you for satisfying Lord Mansfield's kind enquiries.. Almost every letter one receives, which tells or enquires after news, even of the present, is sufficient to convince us of the Pyrrhonism* of History. I am much concerned to find that you do not receive the benefit, }rou would w;ish, from your succedaneum. For, to tell you the truth, I regard the present rage for sea-bathing as only a fashion able folly. Our modern Pagans seem to have adopted the maxim of their predecessors, that the sea is a cure for all mortal ills. Garrick's portentous ode, as you truly call it, has but one line of truth in it, which is where he calls Shakespear the God of our idolatry : for sense 1 will not allow it ; for that Which is so highly satiri cal, he makes the topic of his hero's encomium. The ode itself is below any of Gibber's. ' Gibber's nonsense was something like sense ; but this man's sense, whenever he deviates into it, is much more like nonsense. We too have had our Jubilee ; but held in the ©Id Jewish manner, when it was a season for relief 440 of the distressed,- which was truly singing to God with the voice of melody. We too, and with a vengeance, exalted our singing voice, in the lan guage of old Hopkins and Sternhold,. the Cibber and the Garrick of their time, for ode-making. But here we forsook our Jewish model. You know that the hire of a whore and the price of a dog were forbid to be offered up to the God of purity. But we presumed to offer up to him, the hire of two whores. You may judge by what I am going to say, what it is that passes under the name of charity amongst us. We have got for the distressed Clergy of the three Dioceses, some ^340. And to procure this, we have levied upon the country g£6$4. 6**. lOd. for their entertainment in Fiddlers and Sing ers; of which sum, ,g£l00. is contributed by me and my coadjutor. I am now to give you an account of what you had more at heart, my Michaelmas Ordination. Though I gave notice of it,, according to your direc tion, in the Gloucester Journal ; yet, had it not been for a little Welch Deacon, who flew hither from his native mountains by accident, like a Wood cock in a mist, it had been a Maiden Ordination, and I must, like the Judges, have given gloves to any officers : for an examination is a kind of execu tion. My own Mr. Hurd ! Ever yours, W. GLOUCESTER. 441 LETTER CCXX. Gloucester, October nth, 1769. 1 HAVE the pleasure of yours of the 11th. The Corporation of Gloucester dined with me the other day, amongst whom was Alderman George Selwyn. They had given me the freedom of the city, which I knew not of till then, for the instru ment had not been sent me. Yet this did not hinder me from making a proposal to them, on speaking of the Stratford Jubilee. I said, that as the spirit of Republican liberty was the only devil that had now got possession of us, this city had a better right to a Jubilee than Stratford ; it having produced two Patriot Saints, which bid defiance to Charles the First ; and were, on that account, immortalized by the pen of Lord Clarendon : who tells us, that their uncommon accomplishments performed a miracle that no Church-Saint ever achieved ; of making the merriest men, melancholy ; and the most melan choly men, merry. Though this increased our mirth, yet I am not now to expect that my freedom will be sent me either in a gold or silver box. It will be well if I get as splendid a case for it as Mr. Yorke's lamprey. I had stopped my Letters Dimissory, on your first admonition, some time ago. So the solitude 442 of my Ordination was not occasioned by that, but by their fear of an examination, which carries greater ' terror along with it at Gloucester, than elsewhere. Hence the great demand of Letters Dimissory, and the scarcity of candidates in person. I agree with you that Dr. Balguy's conduct, with regard to that wretched fellow Priestley, was the conduct of a man ; and Dr.. B» 's, of an ass. There were indeed Priestleys in the golden age of Literature. But their, ill success with the publick. was rather owing to the times, . when the people be lieved upon principle (as now they disbelieve upon pone), than to the superior abilities of the Guardians of Religion. The thing is now over; as a friend of ours delicately intimates to me in these words, " Sat Trojce Priamoque datum," as you will find them in the inclosed letter. You will love and admire the writer, not for the exact truth, but for the warmth and nobleness of his friendship. I am charmed with what you tell me of the pro secution of your Lectures, and your scheme of the whole. If your successors go not upon your foun dation, they build upon sand, I am delighted with what you say of your discourse on the prophetic language, that it does not displease you-.. If so, I am sure it will please every body else. It is of infi-r nite importance : the ignorance of its origin and nature has made more infidels, than any other cir- 443 eumstance whatever ; who, have been always ready to. ascribe it to cant, to knavery, and fanaticism. God preserve you in health, for his service, for the happiness of your friends, and for the instruc tion of. the learned. So prayeth your friend, W.GLOUCESTER. * LETTER CCXXI. Gloucester, November 11th, 1169. I RECEIVED your kind letter of the 9th this morning. I am glad you are got to town, where you may enter into a better course of physic both of mind and body than you could do at Thurcaston. The account you give of yourself for the five or six weeks past, shews how much you needed to change the scene, for the better operation of a course of the mental physic, which, I trust in God, you most Want. I do not know whether "I could be more concerned if your vain apprehensions of an incu rable disorder were real, than I am, "under my confidence that they are not. — Make me soon happy in a more chearful letter.-;- Were you here with me, we. should neither of us want amusement. Our Dean is returned. And last night I took Mr. Sparkes * with me to pay him a visit. He soon- * The Rev. Edward Sparkes, M. A., Head Master of the Col lege School. Hi 444 took the advantage of my being off my guard, and confining him to trade ; and, before I was aware, was got deep into the Calvinistical Articles, which he was resolved to clear of that imputation. A flow of more transcendent nonsense I never heard on the occasion. Mr. Sparkes, who owed him a grudge on the affair of Grotius, would needs con tradict him ; and this was fair. Rut he would needs understand him; and here the Dean, whp did not Understand himself, must needs have the advantage. Sense sometimes, though rarely, pro duces more sense; but it comes up slowly, and requires weeding. But the harvest of nonsense, on good ground, produces an hundred fold, and springs up immediately. In the course of it, our friend was insulted, by asking him whether he had read this Divine and that Divine ; and ended in fairly telling him that his forte lay in classical learning, but he was a mere stranger to these profound researches. You may judge how the harmless gravity of otir friend must be disconcerted, and even violated, with this rudeness, which nothing but the irresisti ble ambition of shining as a Divine before his Bishop could have drawn the good-natured Dean into. But all this was very imperfectly enjoyed, by your not being of the party : for then I should have had a picture of it the next momma-, of much more worth than the original. God preserve you ! When you see Lord Mans field, make my best remembrance of him as acceptable as you can to him. Nor let me be 445 forgotten at the next door. But, above all, let me hear of your better health, and speedily. P. S. Ralph is much yours, and rejoices in your remembrance of him. His Mother is now at Bath, in her way to town. You are very right : she takes more pleasure in dispersing than receiving. Gold in her hand seems to change to what the alchemists pretend is the first seed' and. root of gold, Quicksilver. LETTER CCXXII. Gloucester, November 23d, 1169. I HAVE the pleasure of yours of the 20th, and rejoice to understand that you are better, and in better spirits. Lord Mansfield's disorder was unknown to me. But your account of him gave me occasion to write tp him, and even to congratulate him in having got well rid of the impurities in his blood by these eruptions. My time of coming to town is uncertain : I could wish that, when my Wife has put the work men in a way to finish without her, she would, as she proposed, return back, and spend the Christmas here. I lqipw of no way so likely to induce her to 446 it, as your accompanying her down, and all of us" return together. Think of this ; and see if you can not make this pleasing vision real. I am glad you think my Wife's great experice is not thrown away. The alteration must have much improved my library, as well as her dressing-room. But I cannot see how either of them can be safely lived in, this Winter. Making a passage to my li brary through the little anti-room will certainly be an improvement. And I agree to it. But there is no occasion to remove the books from the glass-case there, to fill up the enlarged space m my library, since I have more books above stairs than will serve for that purpose. I have not had yet Dr. Heberden's opinion, but purpose to take it. I am convinced my disorder is not a genuine rheumatism, but what arose four years ago from St. Anthony's fire, which generally fouls the blood, and continues long in it. I am charmed with the method of your Lectures ; it is admirable. Pray do not let Dr. Balguy's re finements spoil the elegance of it. I received a letter from him about a fortnight ago : and, in my answer to it, told him my sense of your course of Lectures. And as he talked of not getting to town till the middle of next' month, I endeavoured to hasten his time, as you would be at a loss for amusement, which you much wanted. I under stand by him that Lord Bottetourt, as he cannot mend the politicks of his Virginians, is set upon 447 mending their morals ; and, to that end, has written to old Dr. Burton, to procure him a professor of mo rality, for the College there. Burton has applied to our friend, to find out a proper subject. And our friend says, he has found one ; a good moralist, but a very bad ceconomist : who, he thinks, will fit them. I could not (when I thought of the Right Honourable Governor) but applaud the felicity of this choice. Mr. Yorke will be of my opinion. Pray let me hear from you often. Nothing can make me happier than to know I am in your thoughts, as you are always in mine. Adieu, my dearest friend. Let me persuade you to be chearful. Your own virtues will always make you happy. W. GLOUCESTER. P. S. This for your last letter. For your last but one of the 16th, double thanks are due to you, as it relieved me from much anxiety with regard to your health and spirits. 448 LETTER CCXXIII. Gloucester, December 1th, 1769. I HAVE the pleasure of your kind Letter of the 3d, which, giving me a better account of your health, makes me very happy. xlll you say of the excellent person on the Hill, is very true. But I fancy he has taken sacra, in sacra fames, in its original sense. I found there was no getting my Wife back. Ma homet, at a pinch, when he could not prove him self a prophet, did the next best, and shewed him self a prudent man, and went to the Mountain. You are very good. Your anxiety made you speak about me to Dr. Heberden. I had ordered Channing to consult him. He has got the Doc tor's prescription, and has sent me his medi cines, which, I think, have already done me service. Old ag^ is a losing game. I haVe had so little ex ercise for my grinders of late, that two of them seem to have taken it in dudgeon, and threaten to leave my service. I am glad you have dispatched the fourth Sermon. The more they have of you, the better for them.- — Not only the Church of England, but the other Protestant Churches, soon slipped beside their foundation ; duped by the Church of Rome, who, 449 knowing their professed reverence for the primitive Church, urged them with the Fathers ; whose hy perbolical language, in many capital points, in dif ference between the two great parties that then di vided Europe, made them look like fautors of the Catholic cause. The Protestants, who were confi dent the Fathers must needs be with them, joined issue with the Papists, and agreed to carry their cause before that tribunal. The contest, by this means, grew endless ; when Dailfe, a minister of Charenton, searching into the reason, at length found v it, and published it to the world. He shewed that the Fathers were incompetent evidence either for one party or the other ; because the points, now in dispute were unknown to the Ancients, and of mere modern invention; so that every thing concerning them, that was to be found in the Fathers, was mere bap-hazard. He gives other reasons too of their incompetency, which Taylor and Digby have pa raphrased and improved. But Chillingworth and Falkland, contemporaries of Daille, made the best use of him, in settling things again on their old foundation, the Bible. Dailies book is entitled, " Of the right Use of the Fathers ;" the original is in French. There are two translations, one in Latin, the other in English. There is a curious account of this whole matter, as far as it concerns Chillingworth and Falkland, in Des Maizeaux's Life of Chillingworth. I think some observations of the true foundation of Protestantism, the Bible, G G 480 a?id Antichrist, the Anlibikle, will have a singular' grace at the conclusion of your Lectures. TJie Chancellor has given the vacant Vicarage of Tewksbu*y to one Evanson, of your College*, whom I have instituted ; and as he introduced him self to me, in your name, I have given him some expectations of a Perpetual Curacy in the neighbour hood, in my gift, to help him to pay his Curate of Tewksbury. LETTER CCXXIV. I, THIS morning, received your kind Letter of the $ th instant ; and am glad to hear you left all yopr family well ; and that you are returned to Thurcaston in apparent good spirits. My disorder, I thank God, has, hitherto, not returned. I propose to send the Archbishop's injunction to my Clergy. . Hunter sent me his View of Lord Bolingbroke'js- oharacter. He is a good man : but, in this book, 1 * Of your College."} On this 'account, I wished to serve Mr. Evanson with the Bishop. , But the offence he gave his parish, MTnot conforming to the Liturgy, obliged him, in no long time, to quit his vicarage of Tewksbury, and his curacy together. He, afterwards, addressed a printed Letter to me, of which I took no notice. — 'What has since become of the poor man, I have not heard." I write this, August 31st, 1797."//. 451 think he has shewn himself very absurd and indis creet. Absurd, in a florid declamation ; and indis creet, as well as very injudicious, in the most extra vagant encomium of Bolingbroke's parts that ever was ; even to say, page 323, " he reasoned with the " pride of a superior spirit, and I had almost said " (says he) with the faculties of an angel." This disposed me to look again into the reason ing of this superior spirit, this angelic man, as I have collected together the best he has, in my View of his Philosophy. I have done it justice. But this retrospect , is accompanied with a mortifying conviction, that the time is now past, when I was able to write with that force. Expect to find in my future writings the marks of intellectual decay. But so much for that matter. Ralph rejoices in your memory of him. His Mother is no less grieved for the necessity of your absence. I received the other day a Letter from Dr. Balguy, who is returned from his Visitation, and has re placed himself (as he expresses it) in his easy chair. There is no danger of its doing him that harm, that your easy chair may do you : for it has a spring, that tosses him out, with ease, whenever a novelty in the literary or political world (like an extraneous body) comes cross his system. Yours is like the enchanted chair of Milton's Comus, not for his use, but for the obstruction of that active virtue, which Nature, by being so lavish, shews it did not form for an easy chair. G g 2 452 I begin to think that the Archdeaconry of Glou cester was worth your acceptance ; for that your annual perambulation will give you a stock of health, though it adds nothing to your finances. You will now soon determine how you shall pass your vacation, whether by land or seav When I" know you are happy in either element, I shall be happy. I trust to neither, but to a good fire for the future part of the Summer, if it shall prove like the past, as it threatens to do. The public-spirited Dean, who hates Faction be cause it has ruined the trade to the Plantations, is enraged to find that, even with the assistance of one of the Directors of the Bank, he cannot get one single News-paper to afford a place to his learned lucubrations. Gloucester, July nth, 1770. 453 LETTER CCXXV. Dr. HURD to the BISHOP of. GLOUCESTER, Thurcaston, July 23d, 1 770. MY DEAR LORD, 1 WAS very happy to be assured, in your kind favour of the 1 1th, that your disorder had not returned at that time. But eleven days are already elapsed since the date of it; and I am now again wishing for the same good account of you. Dr. Heberden has sent me his final instructions, and such as I hardly durst expect. He absolves me from doing penance in the sea, which I dread as much as a good, Catholic does Purgatory ; and is satisfied if I do but observe an easy regimen, which" he prescribes to me in the room of it. This is good pews on many accounts ; but chiefly, because I hope it gives me a chance (if you continue pretty well, and shall he disposed to give yourself a little exercise, as I think you should) of seeing your Lordship at this place. I believe, or fancy at least, that you said something that looked like a promise of giving/me this pleasure. As I propose to be 454 here, and alone, for the rest of the Summer, your Lordship may choose your own time, and can never come amiss to me. I have not yet seen Hunter's book, but believe it is on the road from London. As to what you say of your not writing with the force you formerly did, it may very well be, and yet be ho subject of morti fication : for, besides that you can afford to abate something of your antient force, and yet have enough left, force itself has not, in all periods of life, the same grace. The close of one of these long and bright days has not the flame and heat of noon, and would be less pleasing if it had. And I know not why it may not be true, in the critical as well as moral sense of the Poet's words—- lenioret melior fis, accedente senecta. — But what I would chiefly say on the subject is this, that whether with force, or without it, I would only wish your future writings to be an amusement to you, and not a labour ; and this, I think, is the proper use to be made of your observation, if it be ever so well founded. 455: LETTER CCXXVI. Gloucester* August 2Qth, 1TTCL. J MUST thank you for your kind Letter." You talk of a project} but why would you not explain it ? You know how I love you. Nos duo tterh(t sumtes. I have now had something a longer inter mission from my pain. The inclosed is from an eminent Minister of Edinburgh, who disobliged a rich Advocate, his Father, by going into orders j who however (I suppose on aeeount of a large family) did not disin herit him.-^-It concerns Ossiam chiefly; and he appeals to you, which made me smile. It confirms you in yaur opinion, that these Poems are patched up from old Erse Fragments. The Latin note on poor Mr. Yorke is extremely proper. 456 LETTER CCXXVH. Gloucester, September 10th, 1770. I HAVE your favour of the 3d. It is certain this Mr. Erskine never read Lectures on Fingal. He is a deep Divine; and only amused himself in writing a few words on ,a popular subject in Scotland. I am obliged to you for your kind invitation. But I have a large Ordination on the day after Michaelmas-day, which will require my presence then ; and my' Wife is just gone to Bath, where she stays "a fortnight with the horses. The invita tion would have been so flattering to Ralph, that we dare not tell him of it. Whether Epicurus had so good a garden as yours, I will not determine. I am sure he had not so good a mind 5 and therefore could not enjoy his garden, good or bad, with that serenity and delight with which you enjoy yours. It is good in you to com municate this pleasure to me, for from thence 1 conclude advantageously of your health. Your grammatical pleasures, which you enjoy in studying the most correct of our great writers, Mr. Addison, cannot be greater than the political ones I taste, in reading, over again, the most in- 457 Corred of all good Writers (though not from his incorrectness, which is stupendous) Lord Clarendon, in the late published Continuation of his History. I charge you, bring your Addison to town. No thing is minutiae to me which you write or think. I see by the papers that Jortin is dead. His over-rating his abilities, and the publick's under rating them, made so gloomy a temper eat, as the antients expressed it, his own heart. If his death distresses his, own family, I shall be heartily sorry for this accident of mortality. If not, there is no loss even to himself. We shall see these places (given by the late Bishop of London) amply filled again by the present. For these stationary gran dees are like the rock oysters Locke speaks of, which have neither sentiment nor choice to admit or refuse the watery inhabitants they gape for. — Whether the water be clear or dirty, sweet or salt, they must entertain whatever Chance sends; and therefore, says the Philosopher, the goodness of Providence is seen in making their sensations so few and dull. 458 LETTER CCXXVIIL Gloucester; OcpSeir I #>!,. 1 7t6l ITOUtelE me, in yours of the 2Jth past, that ywtr fake some pams fo> be as well as you can. The? expression makes' me hope you: are almost as well a* I wish you. Take but half the pains with your $>©dy, that you do with your mind,; and I shall be content. . 1 think Dr. Heberden has, at length, pat me in at way to conquer- my complaint ; it is by an issue m. my right arm. — But of this I cannot yet he over confident. Your reflections on Lord Clarendon are the truth SteeK. The History of hi® Life and Adri>inistratior» I have just finished^ Every thing is admirable in it but the style;, ip, which, your favourite and amiable autiior has infinitely tlie advantage. Bring him with: you to town. There, I own, your late amuse ments- have the advantage of mine. It was an ad vantage I envied you ;. which that I might no longer do, I have begun with a certain book, en titled, " Moral and Palitkat Dialogues, the third ectStwn™ in which there is all tlie correctness of Mr. Addison's style, and a strength of reasonings under the direction of judgment, far superior. 459 , May Heaven always favour the pains you take, whether for the preservation, or improvement of your body or mind ; for the publick is concerned in both, but no particular so much as your affectionate, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCXXIX. Gloucester, October 25th, 1770. iHIS, I suppose, will just catch you with one foot in the stirrup. It is only to desire you to bring my will with you to London. I am yet undetermined when I shall leave the country ; though I be much disgusted with my fa vourite season, Autumn, which has passed as uncomfortably and as unseasonably as a Winter's- day, but more tediously. j I have read over again the bulky Life of Petrarch, and like it much better than at first. It is a most curious and very judicious compilation. Our friend Balguy, who is given to skimming, missed all the cream. I wish the same writer would give us, com posed in the same manner, what he has promised, " Memoirs for the Lives of Dante" and Boccace." Langhorne has sent me his new translation of Plutarch; which I shall not look into till I have thanked him for it. 460 When you see Lord Mansfield, you will make my compliments, &c. The Russians seem to be the instruments ap* pointed to verify the Prophecies. But what instru ments! — such as justice, both divine and human, very fitly appoints to be executioners of malefactors, the aversion of humanity, and ending on a gibbet themselves. LETTER CCXXX. Gloucester, November 11th, 1770. . I HAVE your kind letter of the oth. You had taught me to think well of Dr. Hallifax ; and my regard for him, I dare say, is not Unplaced. Our Winchester friend came to pay me a visit last Thursday Was se'nnight, and left me last Wed nesday. I have been under the Surgeon's hands ever since Saturday was se'nnight. I can never be thankful enough for the care of Providence ; nor can I ever forgive my own want of care. I had a mind to reach a hook for Dr. Balguy ; and it being at the very top shelf next the great window, I stept upon the window-seat to reach it : I lost my balance, and fell backward. The sharp nozle of the candlestick cut my ear (I don't know how) quite through. But the bruise has been much more trou? 461 blesome than the wound, though that was a large one. It was wonderful, notwithstanding, that I escaped sO well: it was within half an inch of being fatal. But Providence watches over our se cond childhood, like the first. Can I say any thing more grateful of that, Or disgraceful of this ? — But I will run away from this mortifying subject, to en quire of your healf h. I flatter myself that I see you fixed in your armed-chair, much at your ease, in the second region of Law, with the storms andtem- pests of Chicane flying all around you; but in the empyrean of Divinity. In the first, you see no thing calm or serene, but the mind of our Chief- Justice ; who, like the Angel in Addison,' " Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm." We propose to leave this place for London, the day after Christmas-day. All here are as much yours as your own family can be ; who are yet riot so much yours, as is W. GLOUCESTER. 462 LETTER CCXXXI. June 2d, 1771. I NEVER believed I should feel so tenderly for— as I now do. A' suffering friend's good qualities, in such a condition, separate themselves, and rise superior to his failings, which we are in sensibly disposed to forget. If this be the case of common acquaintance in certain seasons, what must be our constant sentiments of a real friend, at all seasons ; who loses no occasion of expressing every mode of tenderness towards those he loves ! I fell into this train of thinking by what my Wife told me, with much pleasure, a little before I left London. She said, that Dr. Hurd assured her, I would now write no more. I received this news, which gave her so much satisfaction, with an ap proving smile. I was charmed with that tenderness of friendship, which conveyed, in so inoffensive a manner, that fatal secret which Gil Bias was inca pable of doing as he ought, to his Patron, the Archbishop of Grenada. I perfectly agree with you on the superiority of Beattie's Essay to the whole crew of Scotch Meta physicians, and directed to a better purpose than such discourses (commonly full of moonshine) 463 generally are. J have been looking into him, and find he appears to be in earnest; which I hold to be no small praise in this tribe of writers. MY DEAREST FRIES©, Ever, &c. W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCXXXII. I WAS never more grieved and affected than by your last Letter. And did I not flatter myself that low spirits (one of the inseparable symptoms of your disorder) make the matter much worse in your imagination than it is in reality, I should be incon solable. If you should die, in the present -state of things, darkness (as the Poet strongly expresses it) will be the burier of the dead: there will notice light enough left to see or apprehend our loss. But I hope better things ; yef, while I lie under the im pressions of worse, the madness of the times, whe ther shewn in the ravings of impiety or fanaticism, are not worth my notice. I only wait for a more or less favourable turn of your disorder, to determine my intentions about a visit to Thurcaston- I am in your debt on the Uke account. But this is but the. weight of a feather in comparison of what I owe ypu 464 pn a thousand other accounts. Unless you would have me continue on the rack, write daily to me fill you give some ease to my disordered mind. In hunting about for it through every quarter, I think I find it in the very unseasonable weather, that has infected every month of last Winter and this present Summer. I do not expect to be myself till you are so. Autumn will, I hope, set us both to rights. MY BEST, MY ENTIRE FRIEND, For ever yours, W. GLOUCESTER. Qloucester, July 3d, 1771. LETTER CCXXXIII. Gloucester, July 15th, 1771. MY DEAR FRIEND, 1 WAITED till this morning with impatience to hear of you ; and now I have but small satisfac tion. As you will not suffer me to come to you, I must insist on your coming to me. You do not teU me your companion ; and the case of your low spi rits may require variety, which you will find here, all of whom much love and honour you, both male and female ; — and dissipation of thought will be the second best exercise you can use. As to the rest. 465 you shall live- to yourself; in your own room while it is agreeable to you ; and never admit company but when you choose it, or ask for it. My best friend,, to God and your own virtue I commit youy as your best guard. W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCXXXIV. Gloucester, September 23d, 1771. MY DEAREST FRIEND, I HAVE your obliging lefter of the 15th. I have received two or three letters, since you was here, from my Wife, In one of them are these words : " Mr. Hurd's visit to you I shall remember with " gratitude. I reflect upon his friendship, and value " it as it deserves. I am rejoiced at your intention " of accompanying him to Worcester in his way " back." — She talks of not getting back to England till the end of October. Yqut account from Mr. Mason, of Mr. Gray's disposition of his literary property, is very entertaining. I hope we shall have his Fragments this. next Winter. In looking into Voltaire's " History of Louis the XIV.'' I found (speaking of Sacheverell and his ex ploits) he has these words: (e LesToris furent obliges -H H 466 " d'avoir recours a la Religion. H n'y a guere au- "jourd'hui (17 66) dans la Grande Bret ague, que '"le peu qu'il en faut pour distinguer les factions." This explains what I told you and Lord Mansfield I was so much shocked at ; (viz.) the Freneh Nobi lity, of his acquaintance, asking him seriously, whether I was in earnest in my defences of Religion. They took this scoundrel's representation of the state of Religion amongst us, for true ; which, though it be bad enough, is not quite so bad as this calumni ator represents it. However, as miserable as the condition of it is at present, I am confident it will revive again : but, as I am no prophet, but only a sincere believer, I will not pretend to say how soon. The present generation seem not to be worthy of this blessing; which believers, Only, are indulged with a Pisgah-sight of; just sufficient to support and confirm their faith ; not sufficient to prevent their being laughed at by the profligate, and even the sceptical. It will be said by these, that it is natural to think well of what one has defended. But they should own at the same time, that to think well of what one has examined, is a legiti mate prejudice in favour of its truth. Next to the interests of Religion, the welfare of a virtuous and learned friend is the chief concern of an honest man. What therefore must be my satisfaction, to find my best friend enjoys a good state of health at present T I will never be too anxious for his temporal concerns, though I ought to be extremely so, while' 467 I see himself so indifferent about them. But made virtute rard. Knaves and fools may be the favourites of Fortune. I am sure men like you are the peculiar favouritegrof Heaven- Ever yours, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCXXXV. Gloucester, June 23d, 1772. I HAVE the pleasure of your kind letter of the 20th, by which I understand you are got well to town. I shall take proper order with the little Welch Curate, as you desire. I have spoken with Mr. Stock, and we are to have the Churchwarden arid the Curate convened before us. Evanson * was more sage than I expected. He knew whom he was before. But I judge him to be a conceited innovator, from a ridiculous whim in his sermon, that " the man after God's own heart was not King David, but King Jesus." — I am tired of this vain world ; which, indeed, would be intolera ble, but for the few, such as my friend, to whom I am entirely devoted, who lives up two pair of bad * See Letter CCXXJII. B. H H 2 468 stairs, and, what is infinitely worse now, at a great distance from W. GLOUCESTER. P. S. Ralph has the most grateful sense of your kindness ! He was much shocked yesterday, in seeing as he passed by from school, a poor labourer fall from the ridge of Mr. Pitt's house, before my door, who did not survive his fall many minutes. Ralph had but a moment's time to step aside, or he had fallen upon him. But, as Shakespear says, the poor wretch has finished weal and woe. LETTER CCXXXVI. Gloucester, July 1st, 1772. MY DEAREST FRIEND, I SEND yoU the inclosed from Sir David' Dalrymple, one of the Lords of Session in Scotland, called Lord Hailes : by which you may see the opi nion that this learned persori entertains of you; arid your work*. I have answered his letter in such a manner as was fit. I hope you continue in reason-' able good health. May Heaven preserve it, for the" * Sermons on Prophecy. H. 4m *ake of your friends and the publick, particularly for the sake of W. GLOUCESTER. ,*';•,.,.. ;. — — - r-i ¦::•'¦. ^-" LETTER CCXXXVIL Gloucester, August 12th, 1772. ' I HAVE your kind Letter of the '4th, with your friendly anxiety for my health. I have finished Channing's course, and, as yet, have had no return of my disorder. Channing supposes he has cured me, as I have yet had no return, since a short one, just on my coming down; but time will shew the issue. Your health is as precarious as mine ; but all must be submitted to a good Providence. . A villainous music-ineeting, the fruits of the reigning madness, dissipation, forces me soon from home; and, were it not that it forces me to you, I should execrate every fiddle upon earth. The worst of it is, that my Son will needs accompany me, though I questioned his accommodation. However, not to alarm you too much, I shall only have Emery, and one footman ; and my Son and Emery ,will only have one room, with two beds. I can only stay a very short time : and my Son has never yet seen his Aunt, at Brant-Broughton. And we all think de cency requires that he should "pay her a visit ; and this will oe a fit opportunity. He goes thither on 470 horseback, with William ; and proposes to stay there only two or three days, and then return to us at Thurcaston ; from thence we must go back to Gloucester. I understand, by a letter I have just had from Dr. Hallifax, who is now at Scarborough, that Mr. Mason, who is likewise there, proposes to come to us at Thurcaston, as he promised. — You will be so good to let me know whether you can ac commodate us both. If not, I shall come with equal pleasure alone, without Ralph ; and, on account of that pleasure, I never can break an appointment with you ; all of which, I hold tp be sacred : though I am in so ill a repute in my engagements with every body else, that nobody believes I ever perform any of them. My dearest Friend, Ever, and most entirely yours, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCXXXVIII. Gloucester, September 21*?, 1772. I GOT home this day to dinner, and cannot defer a moment to thank you for your kind hospita lity to me and Ralph ; not forgetting the corner of an incomparable cheese ; which was almost the only thing I could eat at very bad inns on the road. 471 We got home well, and in good weather, and found all here in good health, and much yours. My wife depends on seeing you at Christmas, as we despair of seeing you before." My Ralph is charmed with the house, and the master of it, at Thurcaston. I will make amends for the dryness and nothing ness of this Letter, by the inclosed ; and make amends for myself, by assuring you, that there is no one so much, and so entirely yours, as is your friend, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCXXXIX. Dr. HURD to the BISHOP of GLOUCESTER. Lincoln's-Inn, March llth, 1773. MY DEAR LORD, I HAVE two of your Lordship's favours to acknowledge, one of the 24th past, and another of the 8th instant. I am glad you have seen Mr. Stuart's book : I believe, he sent it to all the Peers. As to the subject, it will supply us with matter of conversation, when we meet. 472 I return Mr. Erskine's letter, and am indebted to him for the obliging things he says of my book. ¦ — I have been this morning with Mr. Payne, who tells me the books are riot yet arrived. 1 left orders with him to send your Lordship's copy to Grosvenor- square, as I suppose you are in no haste to read it, arid would perhaps have it lie there till you come to town ; if not, I will expect your further directions about it. 1 desired Mr. Payne to send Lord Mans field's copy to me ; and will take care, when I re ceive it, that his Lordship shall have both that and Mr. Erskine's letter. Has your Lordship seen the new volume of Sir John Dalrymple ? If not, it will certainly amuse you. It abounds in curiosities, and lays open the intrigues both of the Court and Patriots, in- the wretched reign of Charles II. in the clearest manner. It also throws some light on the Revolution, but less than I expected. Dr. Balguy is just recbverihg from a fever, in which his colds, I think, now generally terminate. He talks of writing to your Lordship in a day or two, and will leave this place in the beginning of next week : but there is nothing but ill news of our friends. I understood on Sunday last, at Blooms- buTy-sqUare, that Mrs. Warburton is still at Bath, and detained there by ill health. When she is enough recovered not, to sympathize too much with others, you may let her know that the good woman she saw at Birmingham, is no more, We have 473 great reason to thank God for continuing her with us as long, as she could have any enjoyment of life, and for taking her to himself in the easiest and gentlest manner. She died in her 88th year, and almost literally fell asleep (as I have the oreat satis faction to learn from my Brother's letter on the 27th of last month). I pray God preserve your Lordship and your fa mily, for the sake of each other, and for the sake'of him who is ever the devoted friend and servant of you and yours, R. HURD, LETTER CCXL. Gloucester, March 13th, I77S. I DO not know whether I ought to condole with you, ©r congratulate you, upon the release of that excellent woman, full of years and virtues. I rejoice when I find a similarity of our fortunes, in the gentler parts of humanity. — My mother, some what less indebted to years, though not to the infir mities of them, at length fell asleep, and departed, in all the tranquillity and ease tfiat your mother did. The last leave she took of 1 aU human concerns, as she winged her way into the bosom of our common God and Father, was an anxious enquiry concerning 474 my welfare : which, being assured of, she immedi ately closed her eyes for ever.- — But I must turn mine from this tender subject, which will give us both reliefi Stuart's book will, as you say, afford us much subject of reflection when we meet. — I thank you for your care in Erskine's matter. , I have read Dalrymple's- ' Collection of Letters, which affords much amusement : and indignation at the attempts of Charles and James against their people, whom, instead of being their nursing fa thers, they sold at a fixed price (as Sancho did his Islanders, both black and white) to the ambitious and superstitious Tyrant of France. But as corrupt as our two Brother-monarchs were, their ministers were infinitely more abandoned : nor did they serve their great Deliverer a jot better, than they did the two infamous Brothers, with whom they shared (and this was all their care) old Louis's louis-d'ors. As to our deliverance by the Revolution, these Letters tell us little more than what we knew before. But what does civil history acquaint us with, but the incorrigible rogueries of mankind ? or, ecclesi astical history, more than their follies, though they had a much better Teacher now, than Nature here tofore. Swift said, " he hated mankind, though he loved some few individuals, such as Peter, James, and John." Pope replied, " that he loved human nature; but hated many individuals." One had need of that grace which our Religion only bestows, 475 not to hate them, both ; to the exception of two or three friends, which Providence bestows on his fa voured few, of which, I own myself, with all grati tude, in the slender number ; being, My dearest Doctor, Your most affectionate, and entire Friend, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCXLI. Gloucester, April 26th, il!3. lHE papers from Mr. Wilmot are come safe, and I will endeavour to fit them for the use I intend. I am pleased that Lord Mansfield has published his argument in support of literary property. I suppose it is in a new volume of the King's-Bench Cases. I am in no hurry for them ; but will take some opportunity of getting them ; as I have the two former volumes. I am glad Mr. Mason is got so forward in the edition of his friend's Poems. If he thinks this a good excuse for neglecting his correspondence with his surviving friends, in prose, I am of a different opinion. Mr. Pope's prose will last as long as his verse. And the amiable feelings for his friends will 476 anore endear his memory to posterity, than all the -thunder and lightning of his wit, though against -none but the foes of Virtue and the Muse. My Wife is at length got from Bath, a good deal better in her health, though through a desperate course of physic and physicians.— But with regard to the preceding paragraph, I forgot that you your self are gotten much into the Masonian- system *. God preserve you in every system ; and believe me, that I love you, in all, W^LOUCESTER. LETTER CCXLII. Gloucester, May 2d, 1773. MY DEAR FRIEND, I HAVE your kind letter of the 30th past, and shall be much obliged to you to secure the chambers immediately for Ralph. If you think Trinity-Hall the best place for a Student intended for the Law, you will write to Dr. Hallifax, who, I * The Bishop's health had, of late, declined very, much, and writing Was become uneasy to him. Yet his delicacy ,to his friends would not allow him to leave any of their letters unan swered. Hence, mine to him had, for some time, been shorter, than usual, and less frequent. Of this reserve he gently com- plains/in this letter, suspecting, I suppose, the cause of.it. H, 477 dare say, will give you all the assistance in his power. Whatever you do in this affair,, or in every thing else that relates to Ralph's settlement at Cam bridge, will be kindly acknowledged and confirmed by me ; and received as the greatest obligation to, MY DEAREST SIR, Your most bpunden, assured, and fond Friend, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCXLHL Gloucester, September 25th, 1773- I THIS morning received your kind letier from Thurcaston ; and am much concerned for your indifferent state of hearth, which brought you home from your agreeable excursion much sooner than you intended. I hope Thurcaston will restore you. My Ordination is over ; and though I had given full and repeated notice of it, as you directed, I had but two Deacons to Ordain. The one was rather too young, and the other rather too old. The young one was a Nephew of Dr. Charlton's of Bath, barely two- and-twenty and a half; the other was a Brother-in- law of Mr. Waller's, our late High Sheriff. He was more than forty ; and having, I suppose, impaired 478 his fortune (though a very good and unexceptionable character, of which I have an ample testimony, and amongst the rest from the Bishop of St. David's, who is well acquainted with him), he is presented to a very moderate living in my Diocese, by his Brother-in-law. I am glad Mr. Mason so well entertained you at Aston, and especially by what has been composed of Gray's Memoirs. • I have not yet heard from Dr. Hallifax. His pupil will be ready for him in the beginning of 'November. I have great obligations to you for your kind intentions. He will come to you as soon as he gets to town ; where I hope he will find you at your house, in good health. We are all in tolerable health ; and shall be the better by hearing of yours. MY DEAREST FRIEND, most entirely, and cordially yours, W. GLOUCESTER. 479 LETTER CCXLIV. Gloucester, November 8th, 1113. I HAVE a thousand thanks to make you for your attention to my Son. Amongst the articles of good advice you gave him, I am sure you did not forget this, that in this part of his education his chief regard is to be had to his studies and the im provement of his mind, not to his expences of dis sipation. His natural good dispositions, I hope, will not suffer too much by his total ignorance and inexperience of the world. In this, I hope, his servant will be of constant use to him. I am sincerely rejoiced in the amendment of your health. We hope to be in town about the middle of next month. I thank God my health is tolerable, as are my spirits. I am ever, MY DEAREST FRIEND, your most faithful, and affectionate servant, W. GLOUCESTER. 480 LETTER CCXLV. Gloucester, November 26th, 1775. I AM much obliged to you for your last fa vour of the 22d instant. I am perfectly satisfied- in what you tell me of my Son's conduct : nor had I the least anxiety about his being a strict ceeonomist : he must live as other sober youths, in his station, do. I' am rejoiced you are got into so fit a house for you. The disorder of things in it will be soon removed. I have very slender pleasure in this journey, except in the hopes of seeing you often, which always will afford me the greatest pleasure, as my best friend. I am ever yours, W. GLOUCESTER. 481 II ¦¦ a/ ' >. > h rv \ mi LETTER CCXLVt. Gloucester, May 30th, 1774. I HAVE this morning received yc-ur kind ^fetter of the SfgftH'ihstarit. I yeslera%*6rdame¥my two candidates, and shall, for the fi&ffre, We&e your directions concerning my letters )iirii^sory.v " My SisterisgbtsdfetoC6Wrri,in'H^refo¥dsml4, and we have received a letter from her. arid the rest of the family. You make me happy in givmfe &> good account of my Son. May I live to see 4im likely to become ah honest riiari; this ls'felll'wisli. 1 do not know of any thing which will so touch con tribute to this great end, as" your godd advice kHa. directions, for which I am infinitely obliged to f&S. Business would haVe carried my Wife to BatR try this time, had she not been seized with a fit of the gout when she was reidy to set out ; but I hope this will riot retard her niSny days. I am, MY DEAREST FRIEND, Ever most assuredly and most cordially yours, W. GLOUCESTER. 1 1 482 LETTER CCXLVII. Gloucester ', July 19th, 1774. ,, I HOPE this will find you welL settled, and in health, at Thurcaston ; with my best thanks for all your kindness and civilities to Ralph, in London, who is full of his acknowledgments for them. I hope you find every thing to your satisfaction in your Rectory ; that you may. enjoy the full pleasure of it while you stay there ; and that you may return with redoubled satisfaction back -to town, and with more justice done you there from your powerful friends than you have yet received from them, not for their own sake, which yet should be their con cern, but for the sake of the publick, which calls aloud for their attention. I am, MY DEAREST FRIEND, Yours most cordially and entirely, W. GLOUCESTER, 483 LETTER CCXLVIIL' ¦ . * Gloucester, November 1th, 1774. X DEFERRED acknowledging your last obliging Letter till 1 heard yop was got safe to town. This morning I had a letter from ^my Son, at Lon- don, informing me you was come, , but wfth the disagreeable circumstance, that you had brought an ague with you, which, considering the time of year, gives me much coneern. But I comfort my self that you are got to a place where the best advice is at hand, and I trust in your prudence that you will carefully use it : nor be discouraged or neglect ful of a return, so common in that disorder, if it should happen ; which to neglect, is the only dan ger ; a danger absolutely in your power to avoid (but must be carefully attended to), as it accompanies the only infallible remedy, the bark ; and therefore ought to be no discouragement when it happens. Though my advice is of so little worth, I could never have done giving it, where your health is concerned. Be so good to favour me with a line. If I understand you have no return, you will ease me of much anxiety, no one beipg more entirely I 12 484 and truly yours, your welfare being so intimate to my own. God preserve you, is the fervent prayer of, MY DEAR SIR, Your most affectionate Friend, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCXLIX. Dr. HURD to the BISHOP of GLOUCESTER. Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, December 2d, 1774. MY DEAR LORD, I WOULD not omit to give your Lordship and Mrs. Warburton the earliest information, that I have heen to wait uppn Lord North to-day; and that his Lordship has acquainted me that the King has been pleased to nominate me to the Bishoprick of Lichfield and Coventry, upon the translation of Dr. Jjof th to Worcester. This is all I have time to say at present ; and am ever, MY DEAR LORD, Your most obliged and devoted humble servant, R. HURD. 485 LETTER CCL. Gloucester, December 4th, 1774. MY DEAREST FRIEND, xOU have no conception of the pleasure yours of the 2d instant has given me, which acquaints me with the good news of the King's Jaestowing a good Bishoprick on sp deserving a person ; which will give universal satisfaction; I will not trouble you with a long letter at so busy a time. But I have wrote to Lord Mansfield, with my congratula tions on the obligations you owe him for his services in this affair. I shall now soon greet you with" another, title, but with the same affection, in which, I shall air ways be your most affectionate Friend, ; W. GLOUCESTER. 486. LETTER CCLI. Gloucester, December 11th, 1774. MY DEAREST FRIEND, I HAVE your kind Letter of the 15th in stant, with the resignation of the Archdeaconry, which is done in the best and most friendly manner. I take the liberty of inclosing a letter to Sir Edward Littleton} as not being certain of the direction, whether his Seat be in Staffordshire.— He was so kirid to send me a congratulation on the justice done you : to which I answered, " that if any thing " could add to the joy I received in your promotion, " it was his congratulation, as I knew it was.accom- " panied with a warmth of pleasure equal to my , " own." I do not wonder you should prefer Lichfield and Coventry to Bangor, on many accounts. God preserve you in health, which is now all you want ; and believe me to be, MY DEAREST FRIEND, Yours most entirely, W. GLOUCESTER. 487 LETTER CCLII.7 February 15th, 1 77 5. MY DEAR LORD, ;'/lI HAVE v you Bishop of Lichfield arid Coventry iii full riglW.' ' "'' I HAVE waited with 'impatience* to salute May ybui long live in health, "for the sake of f llhe' publick in the first place, ' and* then of your; friends*!' ' I have the greatest confidence in your friendship, as I hope you have in mine. It is a' supreme" pfeaA" sure that I leave you in the hands of a 'moreuseml, infinitely more honourabfe/Mifa/ii&i impossible he should be a more sincere, oirf, warmer .Friend, than, MY DEAR SIR, ^ \ ; ¦; Yours most entirely, W. GLOUCESTER. 488 LRlfTER CCLIIL February 21st, 1776. MY DEAR LORD, j^jl H^VE the pleasure f of yours ofrthe 19th ins^t, ; acquainting me with the choice of an Ox ford inan of character, for the next person to preach our Lecture; which gives me much satisfaction. May God be pleased to bless my weak endeavours in his service. lam, MY DEAR LORD, Your most faithful and affectionate Friend and Servant, W. GLOUCESTER. 489 LETTER CCLIV. July, 1116. MY DEAR LORD, I HAVE your favour of the 21st of the past June. I wish you all happiness and success, and long life, in your new station*. Nothing can give me so much pleasure as your perfect satisfaction and content in all that concerns you. I will not give you the trouble of a long letter, which would be incommodious to you in your pre sent station : but will only add, that I am ever Your most faithful and affectionate Friend and Servant, W. GLOUCESTER. * Of Preceptor to the Prince of Wales and Prince Frederick. H. 490 LETTER CCLV. November 3d, 1116. MY DEAR LORD, I LEFT in your hands a Will made in the life-time of my poor Son, which I have now altered . in toy Wife's favour; so that I must beg the favour, of you to throw that into the fire which is in your, possession. From, MY DEAR LORD, Your most faithful, and affectionate servant, W. GLOUCESTER. LETTER CCLVI. MY DEAR LORD, I AM to thank you for your valuable volume of Sermons to the Society of Lincoln's-Inn. I have read them with the usual pleasure J take in all you write : they have the same elegance and excellence with the rest. I hope both your health and leisure will enable you to oblige us with more of the same 491 kind. In the last Discourse, I think, you haveex- plained the action of Christ very rightly and clearly. I remain, my dear Lord, Your very faithful and affectionate Friend and Servant, W. GLOUCESTER. December 19th, 1116. LE1TER CCLVII. [Indorsed thus, " To the Lord Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, to be opened and delivered to him at my Decease. TV. G"~[ To my dear Friend, Dr. Richard Hurd, Lord Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry. I DO hereby press and conjure him, to take under his particular care and protection my dear Wife; an$l to afford her all his assistance and aid, against all persons that may be disposed to injure or bear hard upon her. And this I press him to do, and likewise assist her with his best advice, in memory of, and in return for, the warm and sincere affection I have always borne towards him. This earnest request I enforce under my hand, this 8th day of April, 1776 APPENDIX. APPENDIX: CONTAINING LETTERS* From the Honourable CHARLES YORKE TO Mr. WARBURTON. LETTER I. July 1st, 1742.' DEAR SIR, I WAS pleased, on returning home the other day> after an excursion of a few weeks, to find your first volume waiting for me, with a most agreeable Letter1 from yourself, full of kindness and vivacity. To speak the truth, I had been meditating, before I received yours, to say something to you on the very piece you allude to ; but you have prevented me in it : — I thought also of congratulating you, but you seem to require condolence. — And surely with- * Some use having been made of these letters in Bishop War- burton's Life, it seemed not improper to give them entire in this place. H. 496 out reason. What signifies it that your adversaries are not worth contending with ? It is a proof that men of sense are all on your side. — Like the spectres whom iEneas encountered, you cannot hurt them by any weapons : but it should be remembered on the other hand, they do not injure, but teaze, and will follow you the less, the more you endure and despise them. — You should forgive them too ; for you began hostilities. The only provision in the constitution of things for the dull, is the indolence of the ingenious. Therefore, when a man unites great application to great parts, throws down the fences of prejudice, and strikes out new paths in knowledge, they confederate against him, as a de stroyer of their merit, and a dangerous invader of their property. After all, it is a serious and melancholy truth, that when speculative errors are to be reformed, and received opinions either rationally opposed or de fended, the matter cannot be attempted without much censure. The discreet upbraid you with im prudence ; the prejudiced, with absurdity ; and the dull, with affectation. It is a censure however which generally arises from interest ; for the works of such as you, contribute, to bury many useless volumes in oblivion. I rejoice that you approve of the further remarks I sent you on a few passages in Tunstall's Epistle ; nbt only on account of your candour in doing it, but because your sagacity has confirmed, what I had 497 thrown out, by two or three very elegant turns of argument. Whenever you treat a subject, you leave nothingto be said after you, and for that reason can always improve upon others. But this is a trifle. The new edition of your book shews that you can even improve upon yourself. Tully, I think, says of his behaviour in the offices of friendship, ceteris satisfacio quammaxime^ miki ipsi nunquamieatisfa- cio. And in writing, it is one mark of a superior understanding, not to be contented with its own produce. Your correspondence is exceedingly acceptable to me. — When I am conversing with you on subjects of literature or ingenuity, I forget that I have any remote interest in what is going forward in the world, nor desire in any time of life to be an actor in par ties, or, as it is called somewhere, subire tempesta- tes reipublicae. But when I find every body en quiring to-day concerning the report of the Secret Committee yesterday, this passion for still-life vanishes ; — agilis fio, et mersor civilibus undis. . I am, dear Sir, with the greatest affection and esteem, Your most obliged and faithful humble servant, CHARLES YORKE. 498 LETTER II. Wimple, September 30th, 1746 DEAR SIR, I HAVE been very unfortunate of late in different attempts to see you. Two or three days before you left London, in July, I called at your lodgings, but once you were gone out, just after my pursuit of you from Powis-House: and another time, being the evening immediately preceding your jour ney, you were gone to bed. I hope however that the papers which you lent me were delivered safe into your hands : it is needless to tell you, that I read them over several times with great care, and was much pleased with the clearness, ingenuity, and exactness of them, as well as their importance. Those are qualities, which, however rare in other writers, are so ordinary in every thing of yours, that to dwell on the mention of them would be not so much to commend' you, as to betray a very blameable ignorance of your works, by seeming to observe them now for the first time. But my principal misfortune was, the not meeting you at Bath> where, instead of yourself, I found a very kind letter from you, which gave me much con cern. I was glad to, hear afterwards from Mr. Allen, that your Nephew was better, but extremely 499 sorry to be -deprived of your company, at a time and place which would have heightened the enjoy ment to me. Indeed nothing could have made amends for this loss in any tolerable degree, but the great kindness and politeness with which I was , received by the owners themselves of Prior- Park* The natural beauties of wood, water, pro spect, hill and vale, wildness and cultivation, make it one of the most delightful spots I ever saw, without adding any thing from art. The elegance and judgment with, which art has been employed, and the affectation of false grandeur carefully avoid ed, make one wonder how it could be so busy there, without spoiling any thing received from nature. But even scenes of this kind, which had alone made other places agreeable in my journey, were the least of its charms to me* I soon found those scenes animated by the presence of the master: the tranquillity and harmony of the whole only reflecting back the image of his own temper: an appearance of wealth and plenty with plainness and frugality; and yet no one envying, because all are warmed into friendship and gratitude /by the rays of his benevolence. It was my lot to be hurried away from Bath somewhat earlier than I designed by a summons from my Father ; but I will not despair of other opportunities of meeting you there, and paying my respects to the same friends. Mr. Allen was so good as to shew me the two first volumes of your Shakespear, which I K K 2 500 rejoice to see advanced so far. I had only1 time to- read over the first volume, which gave me the highest entertainment. It is no great compliment to tell you, that there is more genius in a little- finger of your Commentary, than in the loins of the heavy Oxford edition of this Poet. I observed, that you had with a pen in the margin added new notes, sometimes with great success ; and now and then not doubted ccedere vineta tua. You have1 with excellent learning and acumen, pursued the general principles of your commentary in particular instances, and shewn that what is principally re quisite to the understanding of Shakespear, is ex pounding his antiquated words and allusions rather than amending his text, which has too often ended in corrupting it. A very slight thing Struck into my mind, whilst I was reading Measure for Mea sure, and becattse it did, I will mention it, whe ther it be right or wrong ; if yOri differ from me, I am sure it is wrong. You will easily remember the passage, to which I cannot refer correctly, not having the book by me. The Duke, in the cha racter of a Friar, says to Claudio (in order to- pre pare him for death, and dissuade him from a re liance on his Sister's intercession with Angelb), " Do hot satisfy your resolution with, hopes that are fallible ;" which you would alter to falsify, and give an in genious reason for it. Now from the notions you have given me of Shakespear's language, I incline to think the first is the true reading. The word 501 satisfy is often applied in common speech to the making up an account between two persons ; and so in one sense is synonymous to discharging. Discharging in another use of it is synonymous to dismissing. And then the passage is thus made out, do not satisfy your resolution, Sec. that is, do not discharge or dismiss it for the sake of hopes which will disappoint you in the issue. I believe I forgot to tell you a circumstance of the Bishop of Oxford, which I ought to have men tioned long since by his particular desire (as long ago, I think, as last Easter). Somebody or Ojther ¦ had told him, that you had been misinformed, iti relation to the part he took in the election at Lirt- coln's-Inn, and that you had complained a little "of his having interested himself against you. The Bi shop was concerned to hear it ; expressed his regard for you ; and more than once desired me very par ticularly to acquaint you how the matter stood;:-^ fhat Mr, Upton (Lord Talbot's Chaplain) had soli cited h.lm Tboth by himself and others to speak' to Lord Chancellor in his favour, at the -time when several candidates Were talked' of: that he did ac cordingly mention it to the Chancellor, who told him, that such friends as he could think it proper to solicit, he had already ehgaged for Mr. Warbur ton \ upon which the Bishop said, " My Lord, it '« is the first time 1 have heard his name mentioned " for' the thing ; if that be so, I am glad of it, and "have no more to say." And accordingly spoke to 502 nobody else. I told the Bishop that my Father had before given me exactly the same account of what passed between them upon the subject, and that I was sure you could not lay any weight upon such misinformation as he supposed you to have had. To say the truth, the thing made little impression upon my mind, as of np great consequence, which was the cause of my forgetting to mention it ; for which I am to ask your pardon, and the Bishop's too. Mr. Lyttelton, whom I visited at Hagley, spoke of you kindly, and charged me with his compliments to you. He wants much to have the third volume of the Divine Legation committed to the press, for the farther illustration of ypur great theme; and added, that Lord Bolingbroke was clear you never meant to continue it. I took occasion to tell him, what I do every body, that you have ,been so much engaged of late, either in your private affairs, or in other works which friendship or accident, or the times, demanded of you, that ypu have had little leisure for it : but that now you should find oppor tunities to pursue it. And this leads me to take nptiee pf what you said in one of your last letters, " that you found no temptation from a late perform- f ' ance on the case of Abraham, to break your promise " with me of npt writing more against your adversa- " ries* In my apprehension, nothing could be better judged. And that, without attending in this instance tp the 'merit of the performance, from the reasons 503 which we agreed to be decisive upon the matterf It is to be expected, where any writer has the marks of an original, and thinks for himself, producing de suo penu, things wholly new to most understandings, that some will have their difficulties to propose; others their tenets to maintain ; and few will give a ready assent to truths which contradict prevailing notions, till time and posterity have wrought a gra dual change in the general state of learning and opi nions. What wonder then, that many should write against you ? How natural that you should defend 1 It was expected from you. The zeal for knowledge is commendable: the deference to mankind becomes you. But here lies the mischief. You and your adversaries stand upon unequal ground. They en gage with that best friend and second on their side, vulgar prejudice. Let their insinuations be ever so malignant, provided they write dully ," they gain the character of writing coolly. How natural that you should expostulate! If your expostulations have been sometimes too warm, they were not the bitter, overflowings of an ill-natured mind, but the un guarded sallies of a generous one. • Yet even such sallies are scarce forgiven you : not because those you answer have deserved better, but because sensi ble and candid men are disposed to think too well and too highly Of you to forgive that in you, which thev would overlook in others. And therefore, could modesty permit you to reverence yourself as much as I do, you would wait with patience that period^ 504 when answers will he forgotten : unless (according to the epigram in Martial) you choose to give flies a value and, an immortality by entombing -them in amber. It is tp. flatter me exceedingly to intimate, thatj.have; contributed to lead you into these senti ments, in iyhfeh the very tgedjum of controversy and the, pursuit of nobler designs must necessarily confkn^ you. ,.- Should you want to explain or vindicate any .passages in your work, it may be managed either by enlarging particular parts of it for a new edition, by adding notes, or by an apology at the epdn-of ; the whole ; and this without any personal disputes whatever. I ask ten thousand pardons for saying so much, though you gave me a fair oc casion ; since- I am conscious it is unnecessary, being, as:tp the result of it, a transcript cf your own thoughts. ,\F<*r this reason, I have some doubts wjbethei) I should, pot throw this letter into the fire, .instead of sending it. But you are so used; to in dulge my officiousness, and take it well, that I grow bold in adding to the.ipflaaees of. it. I am, dear Sir, wfth the greatest truth and esteem, Your obliged and affectionate humble servant, CHARLES YORKEV P. S. I imagine you will be in town a few days . before the term.- ,1 shall be there on the lgth of October. 505 LETTER III. August 16th, 1753. DEAR SIR, I HAVE delayed answering your most kind letter, till I could speak with some certainty of tny projects for the long vacation. It is needless to tell you, that when, it is a question between spend ing my time with you, and any other company, it -requires some firmness to break : from you ; nay, more, one must have a love of your studies, and a sense of the impo»tance of them, to make one value your leisure enough, not to mstofb ' it, by too tang and frequent visits,: and let me add, that I endea vour to convince myself, it is tUuagerousto converse with you ; for you shew me so much more happi ness in the quiet pursuits of knowledge and enjoy ments of friendship, than is to bp found in lucre or ambition, that I go back into the world with regret ; where few things are to be attained, without more agitation, both of the reason and the passions, than either moderate parts, or a benevolent mind,. can sup port. The truth is, after being long divided between the two schemes of staying at home, or crossing the sea again, I have determined upon the latter, at the kind instances of my Brother, the Coloael (ihtefagh 506* I do not propose to stay many days with him). If I can, I will see the President, and (should the weather prove fine) will follow him to Bourdeaux. But at present this part of my scheme is a little visionary. I am greatly obliged to Mrs. Warburton and you, for your proposition of staying at Prior-Park, No retirement is more agreeable to me ; but I 'must defer that pleasure till Christmas. Besides, I thinkyou will both be wanted at Weymouth ; and, if it is ex pected', she ought to go. I suppose you will both laugh, when you read this ; but I am always free in advising my friends, and love to be advised by them. Pray, ask her pardon in my name, that I have forgot Erminia in Tasso so long, and not transcribed it. When you have me at PrioHPark, I will tran scribe it : and obey all her commands. As to the election at Merton, Mr. Harris would have been glad to have served Dr. Hartley, but was engaged before for Dr. Bearcroft's Son. You desire me to give you a copy of the Presi dents last short letter to me.— It runs thtis : " Monsieur, mon ire's cher et tres illustreAmi; j " J' ai un paquet de mps ouvrages, bons on " mauvais, a vous envoyer ; j' en. serai peutetre le " porteur ; il pourra arriver que j' aurai le plaisir ". de vous embrasser tout a mon aise, — je reniets a " ce tems a vous dire tout ce que je vous ecrirois. " Mes sentimens pour, vous sont graves dans mon 507 * coeur, et dans mon esprit, d'une maniere a ne s'ef- *' facer jamais. Quand vous verres Monsieur le *' Docteur Warburton, je vous prie de lui dire 1' idee " agreable que je me fais de faire plus ample con- " noissance avec lui ; d' aller trouver la source du " scavoir, et de voir la lumiere de l'esprit. Son fC ouvrage sur Julien m' a enchante, quoique je ti aie " qu© de tres mauvais lecteurs Anglois, et quej'ai " presque oublie^ tout ce que j" en scavois. Je vous *' embrasse, Monsieur. Conserves moivotre amitie; f ' la mienne est eternelle. " MONTESQUIEU. - «' S, Paris, ce 6 Jum, 1155. "L'AbbdSaher et Monsieur de Fontenelle vous "saluent." As it is very short, I give it you verbatim. His heart is as good as his understanding in all he says or writes ; though he mixes now and then a little of the French clinquant, with all his brightness and solidity of genius, as well as originality of expres sion. I will find an opportunity in the winter of sending him ypur Sermons, and will present your respects to him next post. Ever yours, Dear Sir, C. YORKE. ft. S. Compliments attend Mrs. Warburton, and Mr- and Mrs. Allen. 508 LETTER IV. - t * ¦ ... • » ' , :U ¦ '• : ' Highgate, July 11th, 1764. .MY DEAR, LORD, " « I WAS meditating to wTrte' to yout Lordship an answer to a very cheerful and agreeable Letter, which I had the honour and 'pleasure of receiving from you, when the news ofpoor Mr. Aliens death reached ' me. The truth is, being in the hurry of business, and neglecting the news-papers, I did not hear of it, till two or three days after ft.was known. If an event of that sort could strike or wound one, after so many losses in my own family, immediately following one another, lil|is' event- mrist make the strongest impression, as it related to myself, who regret' a' friend, and to your Lordship, who mourns a parent. But such he truly Was to' all mankind, to all who came within the reach of .his care and feounty. In short, he was a rare example of- piety and charity ; one of those1 excellent persons, who always die too soon' for the world. !He will be sin cerely and universally lamented. And that circum stance I have often thought a pleasing advantage, which amiable and benevolent men have over the great and ambitious. I am anxious to foaow how Mrs. Warburton Ad yourself do, after this shock. May. I beg.ymi to pre- 509, sent my best compliments' pf condolence to Mrs, Allen, Miss Allen, and the rest of the family Jr When I know where your Lordship fixes, I will trouble you hereafter upon other matters. But I feel too much, when I touch, this string, to your Lordship, to be capable of writipg, as I ought, upon any thing else, I am, my dear Lord, always most faithfully and affectionately, , Your friend, and humble servant, C. YORKE. LETTER V. February 2d, 1767. MY DEAR LORD, I CANNOT resist the impulse of thanking you in three words for the perusal of your new Dis courses, as well as your last Letter. All the fruits of your friendship are pleasing to me. The book was most eagerly devoured in the Discourses which I had not read before, and kept up my attention every where. How do you manage always to say something new upon old subjects, and always in an original manner ? The Bookseller favoured me with it, just on the eve of the 30th of January, and within 510 three days of Candlemas ,• one of them the greatest Civil Fast in England ; and the other, the greatest Religious Festival of Anti-Christ. Your Lordship has furnished me with such meditations for both, that I must add it to the account of my obligations, and remain always, Your Lordship's most faithful and affectionate humble servant, C. YORKE. P. S. Pray make my best compliments to Mrs. Warburton, in which Mrs. Yorke desires leave to join, as well as to your Lordship. INDEX OF NAMES. Abbot, Abp. page 11. Academic, pamphlet so called, 69. Addison, Mr. 458. Allen, Mr. 101, 508, & passim. Atterbury, Bp. 309. Atwell, Dr. 415, 418. B. , Balguy, Dr. 68, 8s passim. Barrow, Dr. 128. Basnage, 14. Bates, 149. Baxter, Mr. 283. Belisarius, Vandyke's, 100. Bentley, Dr. 10, 401. Berkeley, Bp. 45. Birch, Dr. 126, 8s passim. Blackwell, Dr. 140. «5 Bolingbroke, Lord, {94, 102, 135, 165, 421, 451. Browne, Sir William, 404. Dr. John, 36, 70, 71, 381, n. — - Hawkins, 42. Burigny, 269. Burton, Dr. of Eaton, 43. Butler, Bp. 286. Samuel, 286, 287. Byrom, Dr. 97. C. Caryl, Mr. of Jesus, C. C. 23, 25. Chapman, Dr. John, 51. Dr. Thomas, 305., Clarendon, Lord, 148, 291, 294. Clarke, Dr. Samuel, 331, Clayton, Bp. 92. Comber, Mr. 228. Concannen, 218. Cowley, 181, 221. D. DaiM, 449. Dalrymple, Sir David, Lord Hi-iles, 468. ¦ — Sir John, 474. Descartes, 82. Divinity, Directions for the Study of, 55, .58. INDEX OF NAMES. E. Erasmus, 269. Evanson, Mr. 450, 467. F. Fingal, 332, 334. Fontenelle, 91, 96. Forster, Dr. 118. G. Garnet, Bp. 236. Garrick, 239, 439. Gorhambury, 429. Gray, Mr. 290, 305, 465. Grotius, 11. H. Halifax, Lord, 45. Hall, Bp. 126. Hardwicke, LOrd, 132, 176. Harmonies, 391. Hartley, Dr. 255. Hayter, Bp; 125. Heathcote, Mr. 228. Heberden, Dr. 54, 278, 346, 404, 413. . riobbes, 148. Home, Bp. 86. Hume, David, 14, 239, 240, 241, 282, 385. Hunter, John, 450. Jackson, Mr. 117, Jane, Mr. 275. Job, book of, 29. Johannes Secundus — latin verses, 56, JonSon, Ben, 98, 99. Johnson, Dr. 368. Jortin, Dr. 206, 210, 270. Julian, Discourse so called, 6. K. Knapton, Mr. 196. Lavington, Bp. 117. Law, Bp. 233. Mr. 225. Letend, Dr. 352. Lisbon, city of, 203. Littelton, Sir Edward, 159, &S passim. Locke, 282. Lowth, Bp. 132, 369, 370. Ludlow, 148. Lyttelton, Bp. 428. M. Malbranche, 282. Malherbe, 40. Markland, Mr. 349. Mason, Mr. 71, # passim. May, 141, 146, 148. Maynard, 211, 269. Mede, Joseph, 418'. Middleton, Dr. 7, 54, 57, 94, 110, 277;. Milton, 149. Moliere, 98. Montesquieu, 83, 507.' INDEX OF NAMES. Mosheim, 328. Murray, Mr. 165, 187. N. Nalson, 146, 149. Neale's history, 356. Needham, 38S. Nevile, Mr. Thomas, 264. Noah's Ark, — Rabbins, 119. O. Orrery, Lord, 90, 93. Percy, Mr. 359. Petrarch, 415, 425. Pierre, Abbe" St. 331. Plutarch, 89. Pope, 4, 8s passim. Verses by, 363. Port-Royal, 97- Portents and Prodigies, 215. Pott, Mr. 424. Potter, Abp. 116. Prophecy, Lectures on, 410, 41G. R. Rebellion, the Grand, writers ; on, 141, 146, 148. Richardson, Dr. 301, 302. Ridley, Mr. 355. Robinson, Col. 319. Rousseau, 323, 325, 347, 385. Rushworth, 141, 146. Ruthenrorth, Dr. 49. Secundus [Johannes] latin poet, 56. Septuaginl, 58. Shakespear, 13. Johnson's edition of, 368. Sherlock, Bp. 31, 35, 317- Smollett's History, 278. Sparkes, Mr. 444. Spence, Mr. 112, 284, Sprigge, 146, 149. Stebbing, Dr. 50. Stukeley, Dr. 358. Sutton, Mr. 52, 62, 75. Taylor, Bp. 128. Dr. John, 225, 347. Temple, Jewish, destruction of, 18. Thurlow, 146, 150. Tillotson, Abp. 127. Tindal, 267, 423. Toll, Mr. 50. Toup, 348, 378. Towne, Mr. 49, # passim. Travel, Foreign, 151, 154, 155. Tucker, Dean, 403, 443, 444, 452.. u. Upton, Mr. 42. L L INDEX OF NAMES. Virgil, book VI. 120. Voltaire, 108. W. Walker, 146, 149. Walpole, Mr. 386. Waldegrave, Lady E. 273. Wartons Joseph, 336, M&. Warton/Thomas, 339. Warwick, Sir Philip, 149. Weston, Mr. 280, 284, Williams, Abp. 157. Whitlock, 146, 148, 211. Yorke, Charles, 118, kpasim. Young, Dr. 285. FINIS. Nichols and Son, Printers, Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street. 1 I ft 11 1 9