Works, in prose and verse. Edited by Edmund Gosse

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GRAY'S WORKS

VOL. III.

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THE WORKS

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OF

THOMAS GRAY

In $3i40se unb 19 use

EDITED BY

EDMUND GOSSE

CLARK LECTURER ON ENGLISH LITERATURE AT THE
UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE

IN FOUR VOLS.— VOL. III.
LETTERS. — II.

ILontion

MACMILLAN AND CO.

1884

V

PR
3500

LETTERS

CONTENTS.

LETTER PAGE

I. To the Rev. William Masoii .... 1

II. To the Rev. William Palgrave .... 3

III. To the Rev. James Brown ..... 5

IV. To the Rev. James Brown . . . . . 7
V. To Thomas Wharton 9

VI. To the Rev. William Mason .... 14

VII. To Thomas Wharton 16

VIII. To the Rev. James Brown 20

IX. To the Rev. William Masoii .... 22

X. To Thomas Wharton 24

XL To the Rev. James Brown 30

XII. To Thomas Wharton 32

XIII. To James Brown 38

XIV. To the Rev. William Mason .... 40
XV. To the Rev. William Mason .... 43

XVI. To Horace Walpole 45

XVII. To Richard Stonehewer 46

XVIII. To Thomas Wharton 49

XIX. To the Rev. William Mason .... 55

XX. To Dr. Clarke 60

XXI. To the Rev. James Brown ..... 61

VOL III. b

viii CONTENTS.

LETTER PAOE

XXII. To the Rev. Jarnes Brown 63

XXIII. To Thomas Wharton . . 64

XXIV. To the Rev. James Brown . . 67
XXV. To the Rev. James Brown .... 69

XXVI. To the Rev. James Brown . . 70

XXVII. To the Rev. William Mason .... 72

XXVIII. To the Rev. William Mason . . 77

XXIX. To Thomas Wharton 82

XXX. To Thomas Wharton ... .86

XXXI. To Thomas Wharton . . .88

XXXII. To the Rev. William Mason . 97

XXXIII. To the Rev. James Brown . . 98

XXXIV. To Thomas Wharton 101

XXXV. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .104

XXXVI. To the Rev. James Brown 105

XXXVII. To Thomas Wharton ... .106

XXXVIII. To the Rev. William Mason . . 108

XXXIX. To Thomas Wharton 110

XL. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .111
XLI. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .117

XLII. To Thomas Wharton 118

XLIII. To Thomas Wharton 120

XLIV. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .122

XLV. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .124

XLV I. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .124

XLVII. To Horace Walpole 125

XLVIII. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .127

XLIX. To Thomas Wharton 129

L. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .130

LI. To Thomas Wharton 132

LII. To the Rev. James Brown 132

CONTENTS. ix

LETTER PAGE

LIII. To Thomas Wharton 133

LIV. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .138

LY. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .140

LVI. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .144

LVII. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .147

LVIII. To the Rev. William Mason ." . .149

LIX. To Thomas Wharton 150

LX. To Count Algarotti 155

LXI. To William Taylor Howe . . . .159

LXII. To the Rev. William Robinson . . .161

LXI II. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .162

LXIV. To William Taylor Howe . . . .165

LXV. To Thomas Wharton 167

LXVI. To Thomas Wharton 170

LXVII. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .174

LXVIII. To the Rev. James Brown .... 177

LXIX. To the Rev. N. Nicholls . . . .179

LXX. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .182

LXXI. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .184

LXXII. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .186

LXXIII. To Horace Walpole 191

LXXIV. To the Rev. William Palgravo . . .193
LXXV. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .198

LXXVI. To Thomas Wharton 199

LXXVII. To the Rev. James Brown .... 203

LXXVIII. To the Rev. William Mason .... 204

LXXIX. To Thomas Wharton . .205

LXXX. To the Rev. William Mason .... 205

LXXXI. To the Rev. James Brown .... 207

LXXXII. To Thomas Wharton 209

LXXXIII. To James Beattie . 219

X CONTENTS.

LETTER PAGE

LXXXIV. To James Beattie . . . .220

LXXXV. To the Rev. William Mason . . .222

LXXXVI. To Horace Walpole 225

LXXXVII. To James Bentham . . . . .228

LXXXV III. To Thomas Wharton 232

LXXXIX. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .237

XC. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .238

XCI. To Thomas Wharton 241

XCII. To the Rev. William Mason . . .246

XCIII. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .248

XCIV. To the Rev. William Mason . . .250

XCV. To the Rev. William Mason . . .252

XCVI. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .253

XCVII. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .255

XCVIII. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .257

XCIX. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . . 258

C. To the Rev. William Mason . . .261

CL To the Rev. William Mason . . . '262

OIL To the Rev. William Mason . . .265

GUI. To the Rev. William Mason . . .266

CIV. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .267

CV. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .268

CVI. To the Rev. William Mason . . .271

CVII. To Thomas Wharton 272

CVIII. To the Rev. William Mason . . .273

CIX. To the Rev. William Mason . . .274

CX. To the Rev. William Mason . . .276

CXI. To the Rev. William Mason . . . 277

CXII. To James Beattie ... .278

CXIII. To the Rev. William Mason . . .281

CXIV. To the Rev. James Brown . 283

CONTENTS. XI

LETTER PAGE

CXV. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . , . . 284

CXVI. To James Beattie 285

CXVII. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .287

CXVIII. To James Beattie 289

CXIX. To Thomas Wharton 291

CXX. To the Rev. William Mason . . .295
CXXI. To William Taylor Howe . . . .298

CXXII. To Thomas Wharton 300

CXXIII. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .301
CXXIV. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .302

CXXV. To Horace Walpole 303

CXXVI. To Horace Walpole 308

CXXVII. To Horace Walpole 312

CXXVIII. To Thomas Wharton 314

CXXIX. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .317
CXXX. To the Duke of Grafton . . . .318

CXXXI. To Mary Antrobus 318

CXXXII. To Thomas Wharton 320

CXXXIII. To the Rev. William Mason . . .322
CXXXIV. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .323

CXXXV. To James Beattie 325

CXXXVI. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .327

CXXXVII. To the Rev. William Mason . . .328

CXXXVIII. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .330

CXXXIX. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . . 332

CXL. To the Rev. William Mason . . .334

CXLI. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .336

CXLII. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . . 336

CXLIII. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .337

CXLIV. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .338

CXLV. To Thomas Wharton . 340

xii CONTENTS.

LETTER PAGE

CXLVI. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .342

CXLVII. To Richard Stonehewer— Fragment . . 342

CXLVIII. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .342

CXLIX. To James Beattie 346

CL. To Thomas Wharton 347

CLI. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .348
CLII. To the Rev. James Brown . . . .349

CLIII. To Thomas Wharton 350

CLIV. To Thomas Wharton 350

CLV. To Richard Stonehewer . . . .351

CLVI. To Thomas Wharton 352

CLVII. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .352
CLVIII. To the Rev. William Mason . . . .353

CL1X. To Thomas Wharton 354

CLX. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .355

CLXI. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . 357

CLX 1 1. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .358

CLXIII. To Charles von Bonstutten . . 360

CLXIV. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . 362

CLXV. To Thomas Warton ... .364

CLX VI. To Thomas Wharton ... .368

CLXVII. To Charles von Bonstctten . . .369

CLXVIII. To Charles von Bonstetten . . .371

CLXIX. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . 372

CLXX. To the Rev. James Brown .... 373

CLXXI. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . 375

CLXXII. To James Beattie 376

CLXXIII. To Thomas Wharton ... .379

CLXXIV. To the Rev. William Mason .... 381

CLXXV. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .382

CLXXVI. To the Rev. William Mason . 384

CONTENTS. xiii

LETTER PAGE

CLXXVII. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .386

CLXXVIII. To the Rev. William Cole . . . .387

CLXXIX. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .388

CLXXX. To Thomas Wharton . . 390

CLXXXI. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .392

CLXXXII. To James Beattie 395

CLXXXIII. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . 400

CLXXXIY. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls . . .402

CLXXXV. To Thomas Wharton 404

CLXXXVI. To the Rev. Norton Nicholls 405

LETTEKS.

I. —TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

July 23, 1759.

DEAR MASON — I was alarmed to hear the condition
you were in when you left Cambridge, and, though
Mr. Brown had a letter to tell him you were mend
ing apace while I was there, yet it would give me
great pleasure to hear more particularly from your
self how you are. I am just settled in my new
habitation in Southampton Row; and, though a
solitary and dispirited creature, not unquiet, nor
wholly unpleasant to myself. The Museum will be
my chief amusement. I this day passed through the
jaws of a great leviathan,1 that lay in my way, into
the belly of Dr. Templeman,2 superintendent of the

1 This skeleton of a whale still yawns in the twilight of the
Museum cellars. — [Ed.]

2 Dr. Peter Templeman (1711-1769), held the office of
Keeper of the Reading-room for the British Museum from its
opening in 1758 till 1761, when he resigned, on being chosen
Secretary of the Society of Arts, then newly established. Dr.
Templeman was the author of several medical works and the
translator of Norden's Egypt, to which he added notes. — [Ed.]

VOL. III. B

2 LETTERS.

reading-room, who congratulated himself on the sight
of so much good company. We were, — a man that
writes for Lord Eoyston ; a man that writes for Dr.
Burton1 of York ; a third that writes for the Em
peror of Germany, or Dr. Pocock,2 for he speaks the
worst English I ever heard; Dr. Stukeley,3 who
writes for himself, the very worst person he could
write for ; and I, who only read to know if there
were anything worth writing, and that not without
some difficulty. I find that they printed one thousand
copies of the Harleian Catalogue, and have sold four
score ; that they have £900 a year income, and spend
£1300, and that they are building apartments for the
under-keepers, so I expect in winter to see the col
lection advertised, and set to auction.

Have you read the Clarendon book*?4 Do you
remember Mr. Cambridge's5 account of it before
it came out ; how well he recollected all the faults,

1 John Burton, M.D. (1697-1771), author of Monasticon
Eboracense, vol. i., York, 1758, folio. — [Mit.]

2 Dr. Richard Pocock, Bishop of Ossory and of Meath (1704-
1765), in his youth an Oriental traveller.— [Ed.]

8 Dr. William Stukeley (1687-1765), the antiquary, was
Rector of St. George's, Queen Square, near the Museum. —
[Ed.}

4 Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon, etc. , written by him
self, was printed in the year 1759, at the Oxford Press, in folio
and 8vo. — [Mit.]

6 On Mr. Cambridge and his habits of conversation, see "VVal-
pole's Letters to Lady Ossory. In conversation he was said to
be full of entertainment, liveliness, and anecdote. One sar
castic joke on Capability Brown testifies his wit, and his
Scribleriad still survives in the praises of Dr. Warton. — [Mil.]

LETTERS. 3

and how utterly he forgot all the beauties ? Surely
the grossest taste -is better than such a sort of
delicacy.

The invasion goes on as quietly as if we believed
every Frenchman that set his foot on English ground
would die on the spot, like a toad in Ireland; nobody
but I and Fobus are in a fright about it : by the way,
he goes to church, not for the invasion, but ever since
his sister Castlecoraer1 died, who was the last of the
brood.

Moralise upon the death of my Lady Essex,2 and
do write to me soon, for I am ever yours.

At Mr. Jauncey's, Southampton Kow, Bloomsbury.
I have not a frank in the world, nor have I time to
send to Mr. Fraser.

II. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM PALGRAVE.

London, July 24, 1759.

I AM now settled in my new territories commanding
Bedford Gardens, and all the fields as far as High-
gate and Hampstead, with such a concourse of mov
ing pictures as would astonish you ; so rus-in-urbe-ish,

1 Sister of the Duke of Newcastle. Frances, second daughter
of Lord Pelham, married Christoper Wandesford, Viscount
Castlecomer ; she died in 1756. Walpole, in a MS. note of his,
which I possess, says, "The Duke of Newcastle is afraid of
spirits, and never durst lie in a room alone ! This is literally
true."— [Mit.}

2 Lady Essex died in childbirth, July 19, 1759. She was
daughter of Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, K.B., by Lady
Frances, daughter of Thomas, Earl Coningsby.— [Mit.]

4 LETTERS.

that I believe I shall stay here, except little ex
cursions and vagaries, for a year to come. What
though I am separated from the fashionable world
by broad St. Giles's, and many a dirty court and
alley, yet here is air, and sunshine, and quiet, how
ever, to comfort you : I shall confess that I am bask
ing with heat all the summer, and I suppose shall
be blown down all the winter, besides being robbed
every night ; I trust, however, that the Musseum,
with all its manuscripts and rarities by the cart-load,
will make ample amends for all the aforesaid incon
veniences.

I this day past through the jaws of the great
leviathan into the den of Dr. Templeman, superin-
tendant of the reading-room, who congratulated him
self on the sight of so much good company. We
were, first, a man that writes for Lord Royston;
2dly, a man that writes for Dr. Burton, of York :
3dly, a man that writes for the Emperor of Ger
many, or Dr. Pocock, for he speaks the worst English
I ever heard; 4thly, Dr. Stukeley, who writes for
himself, the very worst person he could write for ;
and, lastly, I, who only read to know if there be
anything worth writing, and that not without some
difficulty. I find that they printed 1000 copies of
the Harleian Catalogue, and have only sold fourscore;
that they have £900 a year income, and spend £1300,
and are building apartments for the under-keepers ;
so I expect in winter to see the collection advertised
and set to auction.

LETTERS. 5

Have you read Lord Clarendon's Continuation of
his History 1 Do you remember Mr. - — 's account
of it before it came out1? How well he recollected all
the faults, and how utterly he forgot all the beauties.
Surely the grossest taste is better than such a sort of
delicacy.

. III. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

August 8, 1759.

DEAR SIR — The season for triumph is at last come ;
I mean for our allies, for it will be long enough before
we shall have reason to exult in any great actions of
our own, and therefore, as usual, we are proud for
our neighbours. Contades' great army is entirely
defeated : this (I am told) is undoubted, but no par
ticulars are known as yet ; and almost as few of the
other victory over the Russians, which is lost in the
splendour of this greater action. So much for war ;
and now come and see me in my peaceful new settle
ment, from whence I have the command of Highgate,
Hampstead, Bedford Gardens, and the Museum ; this
last (as you will imagine) is my favourite domain,
where I often pass four hours in the day in the still
ness and solitude of the reading-room, which is unin
terrupted by anything but Dr. Stukeley the antiquary,
who comes there to talk nonsense and coffee-house
news ; the rest of the learned are (I suppose) in the
country, at least none of them come there, except
two Prussians, and a man who writes for Lord

6 LETTERS.

Royston.1 When I call it peaceful, you are to under
stand it only of us visitors, for the society itself,
trustees and all, are up in arms, like the fellows of a
college. The keepers have broke off all intercourse
with one another, and only lower a silent defiance as
they pass by. Dr. Knight 2 has walled up the passage
to the little house, because some of the rest were
obliged to pass by one of his windows in the way to
it. Moreover the trustees lay out £500 a-year more
than their income ; so you may expect all the books
and the crocodiles will soon be put up to auction ;
the University (we hope) will buy.

I have not (as you silently charge me) forgot
Mosheim. I enquired long ago, and was told there
were none in England, but Nourse expects a cargo
every day, and as soon as it comes, you shall have it.
Mason never writes, but I hear he is well, from Dr.
Gisburne. Do not pout, but pray let me hear from
you, and above all, do come and see me, for I assure
you I am not uncomfortably situated for a lodger ;
and what are we but lodgers? Adieu, dear Sir, I
am ever yours, T. G.

At Mr. Jauncey's, Southampton Row, Bloomsbury.

1 Afterwards second Earl of Hardwick (1720-1790). It is
probable that " the man who writes for Lord Royston " was
collecting materials for the State Papers, from 1750 to 1776,
printed in 1778, 2 vols. 4 to.— [Hit.}

2 Doctor Gowin Knight, M.D., principal librarian of the
British Museum from 1756 to his death in 1772, when another
M.D., Matthew Maty, became his successor. — [Mit.]

LETTERS,

IV. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Saturday, August 9, 1759.

I RETRACT a part of my yesterday's intelligence,
having to-day had an opportunity of hearing more,
and from the best hand.

The merit of Prince Ferdinand's policy and conduct
is not a little abated by this account. He made a
detachment of 4 or 5000 men, under the hereditary
Prince of Brunswick, which had got between the main
French army and the town of Herwart, where their
principal magazine lay. The fear they were under
on that account obliged Contades to begin the attack,
and he accordingly began his march at midnight, in
eight columns. Very early in the morning, before
the Prince had time to make the proper dispositions,
they were upon him. He had only his first line
formed when the battle began, and of that line the
English infantry made a considerable part ; Contades'
troops (joined by the Duke of Broglio's corps) amount
ing to near fourscore thousand : the Prince had only
forty battalions with him, half of which only engaged
(as I said) for want of time. The French artillery at
first did terrible execution, and it was then our four
regiments suffered so much, 68 of their officers (all,
I think, below a captain in degree) being killed or
wounded; 267 private men killed, and above 900
wounded. The rest of the line were Hanoverians
(who behaved very bravely), and, as their number

8 LETTERS.

was much greater, it is likely they suffered still more ;
but of their loss I have no particular account. In the
village of Tonhausen, near at hand, were all the
Hessian artillery, which being now turned upon the
French, soon silenced their cannon, and gave an
opportunity to come to close engagement. The con
flict after this lasted but an hour and a quarter. The
French made a poor and shameful resistance, and were
dispersed and routed on all sides. The Marshal
himself (having detached a body of men to try if
they could save or turn Herwart) retreated along the
Weser toward Eintelen and Corvey, but wrote a
letter to the Prince to say that, as Minden must now
soon fall into the hands of his victorious troops, he
doubted not but he would treat the wounded and
sick (who were all lodged there) with his usual
humanity. Accordingly he entered Minden the next
day. Eight thousand only of the French were slain
in the field, twenty pieces of cannon (sixteen-pounders)
taken, and twelve standards. The number of prisoners
and the slaughter of the pursuit not so great as it
might have been, for the English horse (though they
received orders to move) stirred not a foot, nor had
any share in the action. This is unaccountable, but
true ; and we shall soon hear a greater noise about
it (Lord G. Sackville.)

The Prince of Brunswick fell in with the party
sent towards Herwart, entirely routed it, took five
pieces of cannon, the town, and all the magazines.

The loss of the Russians is not what has been

LETTERS. 9

reported. Their march towards Silesia, however, was
stopped ; and the King of Prussia is gone in person
to attack them.

The story of Durell l is all a lie.

Lord H.2 is blamed for publishing General Yorke's
and Mitchell's letters so hastily.

Don't quote me for all this Gazette. The Prussians
have had a very considerable advantage ever General
Harsch.

V. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — I cannot say anything to you about
Mason, whose motions I am entirely a stranger to,
and have not once heard from him since he left
London ; till (the 3d of this month) a letter came, in
which he tells me, that Gaskarth is at Aston with
him, and that the latter end of the month, or the
beginning of the next, he shall be in town as he goes
into waiting the last fortnight in October. Lord
H[oldernesse] has sent him no less than four expresses
(literally so) with public news good and bad, which
has made him of infinite importance in the eyes of
that neighbourhood. I cannot pretend therefore to
guess, whether he will be able to come to you. I am
sorry to tell you that I try in vain to execute your

1 In January 1758, Commodore Durell hoisted his broad
pendant on board the Diana. He went to command the fleet at
Halifax.— [Mit.]

2 Lord Holdernesse, one of the Secretaries of State, appointed
June 21, 1751 ; in March 1761, succeeded the Earl of Bute.

10 LETTERS.

commission about tapestry. What is so bad, as wry-
mouthed histories ? and yet for this they ask me at
least double the price you talk of. I have seen nothing
neither, that would please me at any price : yet I
allow tapestry (if at all tolerable) to be a very proper
furniture for your sort of house ; but doubt, if any
bargain of that kind is to be met with, except at some
old mansion sale in the country, where people will
disdain tapestry, because they hear, that paper is all
the fashion. Stonehewer has been in Northampton
shire till now : as you told me the subject of your
letter, I did not send it thither to him, besides that
he was every day expected in town. At last he is
come, and has it ; but I have not yet seen him : he
is gone to-day (I believe) to Portsmouth to receive a
Morocco Ambassador, but returns very shortly. There
is one advantage in getting into your Abbey at
Christmas time : that it will be at its worst, and if
you can bear it then, you need not fear for the rest
of the year. Mr. Walpole has lately made a new
bed-chamber, which as it is in the best taste of any
thing he has yet done, and in your own Gothic way,
I must describe a little. You enter by a peaked door
at one corner of the room (out of a narrow winding
passage, you may be sure) into an alcove, in which
the bed is to stand, formed by a screen of pierced
work opening by one large arch in the middle to the
rest of the chamber, which is lighted at the other end
by a bow-window of three bays, whose tops are of
rich painted glass in mosaic. The ceiling is coved

LETTERS. 11

and fretted in star and quatre-foil compartments, with
roses at the intersections, all in papier madid The
chimney on your left is the high altar in the cathedral
of Eouen (from whence the screen also is taken) con
sisting of a low surbased arch between two octagon
towers, whose pinnacles almost reach the ceiling, all
of nich-work ; the chairs and dressing-table are real
carved ebony, picked up at auctions. The hangings
uniform purple paper, hung all over with the court
of Henry the VIII. , copied after the Holbeins in the
Queen's Closet at Kensington, in black and gold
frames. The bed is to be either from Burleigh (for
Lord Exeter is new furnishing it, and means to sell
some of his original household-stuff) of the rich old
tarnished embroidery ; or if that is not to be had, and
it must be new, it is to be a cut velvet with a dark
purple pattern on a stone-colour satin ground, and
deep mixed fringes and tassels. There's for you, but
I want you to see it. In the meantime I live in the
Musseum, and write volumes of antiquity. I have
got (out of the original Ledger-book of the Signet)
King Kichard the Third's oath to Elizabeth, late
calling herself Queen of England ; to prevail upon her
to come out of sanctuary with her five daughters.
His grant to Lady Hastings and her son, dated six
weeks after he had cut off her husband's head. A
letter to his mother; another to his chancellor, to
persuade his solicitor-general not to marry Jane
Shore then in Ludgate by his command. Sir Thomas
Wyat's Defence at his trial, when accused by Bishop

12 LETTERS.

Bonner of high treason ; Lady Purbeck and her son's
remarkable case, and several more odd things un
known to our historians. When I come home, I
have a great heap of the Con way Papers (which is a
secret) to read, and make out. In short, I am up to
the ears.

The fish you mention is so accurately described,
that I know it at sight. It is the Ink-fish, or Loligo
of the Romans. In Greek Tcv06s, in Italian, Cala-
maio, in French, Calmar. You will find it ranged by
Linnaeus in the class of Vermes, the order of Mollusca,
the genus of Sepia, No. 4, page 659. The smaller
ones are eaten as a delicacy fried, with their own ink
for sauce, by the Italians and others. You may see
it in Aldrovandus.

I do not see much myself of the face of nature
here, but I enquire. Wheat was cutting in Kent the
23d of July, the 25th at Enfield. The 27th, wheat,
barley, and oats cutting all at once about Windsor :
the forward peas all got in, ground ploughed and
turnips sowed. 9th of August, harvest still continued
in Buckinghamshire. The 27th about Kennington it
was just over, being delayed for want of hands. In
some places, 50 miles from London it is but just over
now for the same reason. The 3d of August, catha-
rine- pears, muscle -pi urns, and small black cherries
were sold in wheel-barrows. Filberds in plenty the
8th. Mulberries, and fine green-gage plums the 19th.
Fine nectarines and peaches, the 27th. The 4th of
September, melons and perdrigon-plums. The 8th,

LETTERS. 13

walnuts 20 a penny. This is all I know about fruit.
My weather is not very complete.

July
20, 1759. London. Thermom. 5 in the Afternoon, at 79

21

22 same hour 76

23 WindN.N.E. . . Grass burnt up ,, 80

24

25 , 78

26 Wind N.N.W. brisk at noon . . . Thermom. 71

27 , , laid at night

28 ,, N. fair, white flying clouds . 9 in morning 68

29 ,, S.S.W. still, and cloudy sunshine ,, 69

30 Gloomy and hot, W.S.W. shower at night ,, 70

31 Eight hours' rain, S.W. moonshine night ,, 70
August

1 Cloudy, W.S.W. brisk and chill, bright even. „ 66

2 Cloudy sun, W.S.W. chill, a little

rain, night clear .... ,, 65

3 Fine, wind N.W. cool ... „ 64

4 Gloomy, S.W. high, seven hours' heavy rain ,, 64

5 Cloudy, N.W. hard rain at night . ,, 66

6 Clouds and sunshine, wind N.W. brisk ,, 64

7 Wind S.W. fair .... „ 66

8 ,, W. clear and hot . . ,, 74

9 „ S.S.W. very hot ... „ 76

10 ,, ,, hot and foggy . . ,, 74

11 ,; ,, clear and extreme hot ,, 76

12 ,, N.N.W. small rain, evening fine ,, 66

13 ,, N.N.E. brisk, fine day. . ,. 66

14 „ „ cloudy ... ,, 64

15 ,, N.N.W. clouds and sun . ,, 68

16 ,, ,, very fine ... ,, 64

17 ,, S.W. overcast, some rain . ,, 68

18 ,, very fine .... ,, 64

19 „ W.N.W. cloudy, but fair, at

night hard rain ... ,, 64

20 ,, W.S.W. overcast, at night much rain ,, 66

14 LETTERS.

I go no farther than you do : but it is down in my
book.

What do you say to all our Victories 1 The night
we rejoiced for Boscawen,1 in the midst of squibs and
bonfires arrived Lord G. Sackville. He sees com
pany ; and to-day has put out a short address to the
Public, saying, he expects a Court-Martial (for no one
abroad had authority to try him) and desires people
to suspend their judgement I fear, it is a rueful

I believe, I shall go on Monday to Stoke for a
time, where Lady Cobham has been dying. My best
respects to Mrs. Wharton. Believe me ever faith
fully yours, T. G.

Southampton Row, September 18, 1759.

VI. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Stoke, October 6, 1759.

DEAR MASON — If you have been happy where you
are, or merely better in health for any of your em
ployments or idlenesses, you need no apologies with
me : my end is answered, and I am satisfied. One
goes to school to the world some time before one
learns precisely how long a visit ought to last. At
this day I do not pretend to know it exactly, and
very often find out (when it is too late) that I have
stayed half an hour too long. I shall not wonder,

1 Victory of Admiral Boscawen over the French fleet under
M. de la Clue, in the Mediterranean.— [

LETTERS. 15

therefore, if your friend should make a mistake of
half a year, if your occasions did not call you to town
sooner. When you come I should hope you would
stay the winter, but can advise nothing in a point
where my own interest is so much concerned. Pray
let me know of your arrival immediately, that I may
cut short my visitation here, or at least (if you are
taken up always at Syon,1 or Kensington) may meet
you at Hounslow,2 or at Billy Kobinson's,3 or some
where. My only employment and amusement in
town (where I have continued all the summer, till
Michaelmas) has been the Museum ; but I have been
rather historically than poetically given, with a little
of your encouragement, perhaps, I may return to my
old Lydgate and Occleve, whose works are there in

1 Syon, or Sion Hill, near Brentford, then the residence of
Lord Holdernesse, since pulled down ; Kensington, where Mason
resided during the period of residence as chaplain to the king.
—[Mit.}

2 He may mean Mr. "Walpole's residence, for in one of his
letters Walpole says, "I live within two miles of Hounslow;"
vol. v. 135. And in another letter he says, " I expect Mr. Gray
and Mr. Mason to pass the day with me." Long after this
time there was only a ferry-boat between Twickenham and
Richmond, and Walpole's usual road to London must have
been through Isleworth and Brentford, by the Hounslow road.
-[Mit.]

8 Billy Robinson was his friend the Rev. William Robinson,
of Denton in Kent. I possess a list by Gray of the wild plants
native to this district, made when on one of his two visits at
Denton. He was the third surviving brother of Mrs. Montagu,
and was of Westminster School, and St. John's College, Cam
bridge ; Rector of Burfield, Bucks, where he died, aged 75, De
cember 1803.— [Mit.]

16 LETTERS.

abundance. I can write you no news from hence;
yet I have lately heard ill news, which I shall not
write. Adieu, dear Mason, and believe me most
faithfully yours.

At the Lady Viscountess Cobham's,1 at Stoke
House, near Windsor, Bucks.

Your friend Dr. Plump tre2 has lately sat for his
picture to Wilson.3 The motto, in large letters (the
measure of which he himself prescribed) is, "Non
magna loquimur, sed vivimus :" i.e. "We don't say
much, but we hold good livings."

VII. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — I know not what to say to you after
so long a silence, but that I have been down at Stoke
to see poor Lady Cobham, and after about three weeks
passed there, she being obliged to come for advice (as
they call it) to town, I returned with her, and have

1 Ann, widow of Field-Marshal Richard Temple, Viscount
Cobham, who died in 1749, daughter of Edmund Halsey, Esq.
of Southwark ; she lived at the Old House at Stoke Park.
Miss Speed resided with her, who afterwards became Countess
of Virey. Lady Cobham died in 1760.— [Mit.]

2 In 1760 Dr. Robert Plumptre was President of Queen's
College, and from 1760 to 1788 Professor of Casuistry ; died in
October 1788. His " good livings" were Wimpole and Whadden,
in Cambridgeshire ; he was afterward Prebendary of Norwich.

3 Benjamin Wilson (1721-1788) the portrait-painter, to whom
Gray sat for the likeness in oil which now hangs in the com
mon room of Pembroke College, Cambridge. — [Ed. ]

LETTERS. 17

been ever since, till about ten days ago, by her desire
in the house with her in Hanover Square. She is
dying (as it now plainly appears) of a dropsy, and the
contemplation of lingering death is not apt to raise
the spirits of any spectator . . . .l I have had an
enquiry from Mr. Jonathan about painted glass, and
have given him such information, as I could procure.
The manufacture at York seems to be the thing for
your purpose, but the name of the person I cannot
learn. He at Worcester sells it for two shillings a
pound (for it is sold by weight). I approve very
well of the canopy work border on the sides of each
light descending to the bottom, provided it do not
darken the window too much, and take up so much
of the twenty inches space, as to make the plain glass
in the middle appear over narrow. But I have been
more used to see the whole top of coloured glass (from
where the Arch begins to turn), the gloom above con
tributing much to the beauty of the clear view below.
I cannot decide : the first is more Gothic and more
uncommon, the latter more convenient and more
cheerful. Green glass is not classical, nor ever seen
in a real church window, but where there is history
painted, and there the green is remarkably bad. I
propose, the rich amethyst-purple instead of it. The
Mosaic pattern can hardly come amiss, only do not
let too much yellow and scarlet come together. If I
could describe the Mosaic at Mr. Walpole's it would
be of no use to you, because it is not merely made of

1 About 9 lines of MS. are here lost— [Ed.]
VOL. III. C

18 LETTERS.

squares put together, but painted in a pattern of
Price, and shaded. It is as if little Balaustines, or
Pomegranate flowers, were set four together, and
formed a Lozenge. These are of a golden yellow
with a white Pearl at the junctions, and the spaces
inclosed by them are scarlet, or blue. This repeated
makes a diaper- work, and fills the whole top of the
window. I am sorry any of your designs depend
upon Virginia; I fear it will fail you. Stonehewer
tells me, you have a neighbouring scene superior to
any banks of the Thames, where I am to live . . . -1
clever, and forced from him by a nonsensical speech
of Beckford's. The second was a studied and puerile
declamation on funeral honours (on proposing a monu
ment for Wolfe). In the course of it he wiped his
eyes with one handkerchief, and Beckford (who
seconded him, cried too, and wiped with two hand
kerchiefs at once, which was very moving. The third
was about Gen. Amherst, and in commendation of
the industry and ardour of our American Commanders,
very spirited and eloquent. This is a very critical
time, an action being hourly expected between the
two great Fleets, but no news as yet. I don't know
where my thermometer left off, but I do not find any
observations till the 8th September.

Sept.

8, at 68 close and gloomy. Walnuts 20 a penny.

9, 70 same.

10, 72 very fine. Wind S.W. then N.W. Bergamot Pears.

1 About 9 lines of MS. are wanting here. — [Ed.]

LETTERS. 19

Sept.

11, at 68 wet, evening fine. Wind S. W. foggy night.

12, 64 cloudy . . ,, S.S.W.

13, 68 showery afternoon ,, S.W.

14, 62 fair . . . „ W.N.W. cool.

15, 62 a little rain . ,, N. W. little frost at night.

16, 61 fair . . . „ N.N.W. even. N.E. bright

and cool.

17, 59. . . . „ N.W.

18, 58.

19, 57. . . . „ N.
20,

21, 60 fair . . . „ N.E. high.

22, 60 fair and cool . „ K E. at night a little frost.

23, 59 fair, aftern. cold and gloomy, set by a fire. (Went

to Stoke.)

24, — fine black and white Muscadine Grapes, black Figs

(the white are over), Melons and Walnuts.

25, — red and blue double Asters, Musk and Monthly

Roses, Marygolds, Sweet Peas, Carnations,
Mignonette, and double Stocks, in bloom.

26, 59 . . . . „ N.W. high.

Elm, Oak, and Old Ash in full verdure. Horse
Chesnut and Lime turn yellow, young Beeches
russet, Cherry -Trees red, and dropping their
Leaves.

27, 62 Clouds and sun.

28, • -.

29, 64 fine.

30, 62.
Oct.

1, — . . Catherine Peaches very ripe. Black Frontignac

Grapes. (All the rest is lost.)
The 20th of November, some snow fell in the night.

23d. Thermometer at 32 (Freezing Point) for the first
time ; since which it has continued rising :
weather wet.

To-day, the 28th, at 54. Wind, W.N.W. high. Warm
and wet.

20 LETTERS.

My best respects to Mrs. Wharton. I am, dear
Sir, ever yours.
November 28 [1759].

_ TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

1759.

DEAR SIR— You will receive to-morrow Caractacus,
piping hot, I hope, before anybody else has it. Ob
serve, it is I that send it, for Mason makes no
presents to any one whatever; and, moreover, you
are desired to lend it to nobody, that we may sell
the more of them; for money, not fame, is the
declared purpose of all we do. I believe you will
think it (as I do) greatly improved. The last chorus,
and the lines that introduce it, are to me one of the bes
things I ever read, and surely superior to anything
he ever wrote. He has had infinite fits of affectation
as the hour approached, and is now gone into the
country for a week, like a new married couple.

I am glad to find you are so lapt in music at Cam
bridge, and that Mingotti1 is to crown the whole;
I heard her within this fortnight, and think her voice
(which always had a roughness), is considerably

i Catarina Mingotti, born at Naples 1726, married Mingotti,
a Venetian, Manager of the Opera at Dresden. Sang ; wi
oreat applause at the theatres in Italy, Germany, and Spain.
She came to London in 1754, and made her first ; appearance
in Ipermnestra in 1758. She quitted England in 1772, haying
still preserved her voice. The date of her death is not known.
— [Mit]

LETTEES. 21

harsher than it was, but yet she is a noble singer.
I shall not partake of these delights, nor, I fear, be
able to see Cambridge for some time yet; but in a
week I shall know better. Dr. Wharton, who desires
his love to you, will, I believe, set out for Durham
in about three weeks to settle at Old Park; at
present his least girl is ill of the small-pox, joined
with a scarlet fever, but likely to get over it. Yes
terday I and M. dined with Mr. Bonfoy. He told
me that the old lady was eloped from Eipon, just at
a time when he seemed to want her there, and was,
I thought, a little ruffled at it ; but I (in my heart)
commended her, and think her very well revenged
upon him. Pray, make her my best compliments.
Old Turner1 is very declining, and I was sounded by
Dr. - - about my designs (so I understood it). I
assured him I should not ask for it, not choosing to
be refused. He told me two people had applied
already. N.B. — All this is a secret. Adieu, dear
Sir. — Believe me ever sincerely yours, T. G.

P.S. — The parcel will come by one of the flies.
There is a copy for old Pa, who is outrageous about
it. I rejoice in Jack's good fortune. Lord Strath-
more is much out of order, but goes abroad.

1 Shallet Turner, D.C.L., of Peterhouse, Professor of Modern
History, from 1735 to 1762.

22 LETTERS.

IX T0 THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

December 1, 1759.

DEAR MASON-! am extremely obliged to you for
the kind attention you bestow on me and my affairs.
I have not been a sufferer by this calamity ; it was
on the other side of the street, and did not reach
so far as the houses opposite to mine ; but there was
an attorney, who had writings belonging to me in his
hands, that had his house burnt down among the
first, yet he has had the good fortune to save all his
papers. The fire is said to have begun in the chamber
of that poor glass-organist who lodged at a coffee-house
in Swithin's Alley, and perished in the flames. Two
other persons were destroyed (in the charitable office
of assisting their friends), by the fall of some build-
in"s. Last night there was another fire in Lincoln's
Inn Fields, that burnt the Sardinian Ambassadors
chapel and stables, with some adjacent houses. 'Tis
strange that we all of us (here in town) lay ourselves
down every night on our funereal pile, ready made,
and compose ourselves to rest, while every drunken
footman and drowsy old woman has a candle ready
to light it before the morning.

You will have heard of Hawke's victory be
fore this can reach you; perhaps by an express,
i . . Monsieur de Conflans' own ship of

74, were driven on shore, and
1 Torn off.— [Mil.]

LETTERS. 23

. /. two sunk (capital ships), with

r it blew a storm during the whole
could be saved out of them. Eight

ng over their cannon were able to run
. mouth of a shallow river (where, if the
wind will permit, it is probable they may be set on
fire), and eight ran away, and are supposed to have
got into Kochef ort ; two of Hawke's fleet (of seventy
and sixty guns) out of eagerness ran aground, and
are lost, but most of the men preserved and brought
off. There is an end of the invasion, unless you are
afraid of Thurot, who is hovering off Scotland. It is
an odd contemplation that somebody should have
lived long enough to grow a great and glorious
monarch. As to the nation, I fear it will not know
how to behave itself, being just in the circumstances
of a chambermaid that has got the £20,000 prize in
the lottery.

You mistake me. I was always a friend to em
ployment, and no foe to money; but they are no
friends to each other. Promise me to be always
busy, and I will allow you to be rich. — I am, dear
Mason, in all situations truly yours.

At Mr. Jauncey's, in Southampton Row. I re
ceived your letter November 29, the day on which it
is dated ; a wonderful instance of expedition in the
post.

24 LETTERS.

X. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

London, Thursday, January 23, 1760.
DEAR DOCTOR — I am much obliged to you for your
antique news : Froissard is a favourite book of mine
(though I have not attentively read him, but only
dipp'd here and there) and it is strange to me
that people who would give thousands for a dozen
Portraits (originals of that time) to furnish a Gallery,
should never cast an eye on so many moving Pictures
of the life, actions, manners, and thoughts of their
ancestors done on the spot, and in strong though
simple colours. In the succeeding century Froissard
(I find) was read with great satisfaction by every
body, that could read ; and on the same footing with
King Arthur, Sir Tristram, and Archbishop Turpin :
not because they thought him a fabulous writer, but
because they took them all for true and authentic
Historians. To so little purpose was it in that age
for a man to be at the pains of writing truth ! Pray,
are you come to the four Irish Kings, that went to"
school to K. Eichard ye 2d.'s Master of the Cere
monies ; and the man who informed Froissard of all
he had seen in St. Patrick's Purgatory?

You ask after Quebec. Gen. Townsend says, it is
much like Richmond Hill, and the river as fine (but
bigger), and the Vale as riant, as rich, and as well
cultivated. No great matters are attributed to his
conduct. The Officer who brought over the news,

LETTERS. 25

when the Prince of Wales asked, how long Gen.
Townsend commanded in the action after Wolfe's
death ? answered, "A minute, Sir." It is certain, he
was not at all well with Wolfe, who for some time
had not cared to consult with him, or communicate
any of his designs to him. He has brought home an
Indian Boy with him (designed for Lord G. Sackville,
but he did not choose to take him) who goes about
in his own dress, and is brought into the room to
divert his company. The General after dinner one
day had been shewing them a box of scalps and some
Indian arms and utensils. When they were gone, the
boy got the box, and found a scalp, which he knew
by the hair belonged to one of his own nation. He
grew into a sudden fury (though but eleven years
old) and catching up one of the scalping-knives made
at his Master with intention to murther him, who in
his surprise hardly knew how to avoid him; and by
laying open his breast, making signs, and with a few
words of French jargon, that the boy understood,
at last with much difficulty pacified him. The first
rejoicing night he was terribly frighted, and
thought the bone-fire was made for him, and that
they were going to torture and devour him. He is
mighty fond of venison blood raw; and once they
caught him flourishing his knife over a dog that lay
asleep by the fire, because (he said) it was Ion-manger.
You have heard of the Irish disturbances (I reckon) ;

never were two Houses of Parliament so bep d

and s upon. This is not a figure, but literally

26 LETTERS.

so. They placed an old woman on the Throne, and
called for pipes and tobacco ; made my Lord Chief-
Justice administer an Oath (which they dictated) to
my Lord Chancellor; beat the Bishop of Killaloe
black and blue; played at football with Chenevix,
the old refugee Bishop of Waterford ; rolled my Lord
Farnham in the kennel ; pulled Sir Thos. Prendergast
by the nose (naturally large) till it was the size of a
cauliflower ; and would have hanged Rigby, if he had
not got out of a window. All this time the Castle
remained in perfect tranquillity. At last the guard
was obliged to move (with orders not to fire), but the
mob threw dirt at them. Then the horse broke in
upon them, cutting and slashing, and took seventeen
prisoners : next morning they were all set at liberty,
and said to be poor silly people, that knew nothing of
the matter. The same night there was a ball at the
Castle, and play till four in the morning. This tumult
happened two days before the news of Hawke's
victory got to Dublin ; and there was another some
time before, when first it was known that the Brest-
fleet had sailed. Warning was given (from the lest
hands in England) six weeks before that time, that
there would be a rising of the Papists in Ireland ; and
the first person whom the mob insulted was a Mr.
Rowley, a Member always in opposition to the Court,
but a Presbyterian. It is strange (but, I am assured,
true) that the Government have not yet received any
account of the matter from thence, and all the Irish
here are ready to fight a man, that says there has

LETTERS. 27

been any riot at all at Dublin. The notion, that had
possessed the crowd, was, that a Union was to be
voted between the two nations, and they should have
no more Parliaments there.

Prince Ferdinand has done a strange thing in
Germany. We have always studiously avoided doing
anything to incur the Ban of the Empire. He has
now (without waiting for commands from hence) de
tached 14,000 men, the flower of his flock, to assist
the King of Prussia in Saxony against the Empress-
Queen and the Empire. The old gentleman does not
know how to digest it after giving him £2000 a year
on the Irish Establishment, and £20,000 for the
Battle of Minden (not out of his own pocket, don't
mistake : but out of yours under the head of Extra-
ordinaries). A great fleet is preparing, and an expedi
tion going forward : but nobody knows where to :
some say, Martinico, others Minorca. All thought
of a Congress is vanished, since the Empress has
shewed herself so cool to our proposal.

Mr. Pitt (not the great, but the little one, my
acquaintance) is setting out on his travels. He goes
with my Lord Kinnoul to Lisbon ; then (by sea still)
to Gales, then up the Guadalquivir to Seville and
Cordova, and so perhaps to Toledo, but certainly to
Grenada ; and after breathing the perfumed air of
Andalusia, and contemplating the remains of Moorish
magnificence, re-embarks at Gibraltar or Malaga, and
sails to Genoa. Sure an extraordinary good way of
passing a few winter months, and better than drag-

28 LETTERS.

ging through Holland, Germany, and Switzerland, to
the same place. Now we have been contriving to get
my Ld< Strfathmore] (for whose advantage it will be
in several respects) to bear a part in this expedition,
and to-day we have brought it about, and they will
go in a fortnight : but this is a secret, and you must
not tell, for fear my Lady should be frighted at so
much sea.

The Attorney and Solicr- General (to whom it was
referred) have declared that Lord G. S[ackville]
may be tried by a court-martial. Ld- Holdernesse
has wrote to him a letter to inform him of this, and
desires to know (these are the words) how his Ldp-
would have them proceed, as there is no specific charge
against him. I am told, he has answered, that he
cannot pretend to prescribe how a Court, that sits in
judgement upon him, is to proceed against him. That
he well knows, nothing can justly be alledged against
him ; but doubts not from Pr> Ferdinand's treatment
of him, that there was some charge against him,
especially as he finds himself dismissed from all his
employments. I hear too, that (whatever the lawyers
have said) the General Officers insist, they will not
have anything to do with his cause, as he is no longer
of the army. So (I suppose) after a little bustle the
matter will drop.

Here is a new farce of Macklin the Player's, that
delights the town much, Love-a-la-Mode,1 a Beau Jew,

1 This farce, which was never printed, was brought out at
Drurv Lane in 1760.-

LETTERS. 29

an English Gentleman- Jockey, a Scotch Baronet, and
an Irish Officer in the Prussian service, that make
love to a Merchant's Niece. The Irishman is the Hero,
and the happy man, as he deserves ; for Sir Keilichan
O'Callaghan is a modest, brave, and generous soldier ;
yet with the manners, the brogue, and the under
standing, of an Irishman, which makes a new char
acter. The king is so pleased with the Scotch char
acter (which is no compliment to that nation) that he
has sent for a copy of the piece, for it is not printed,
to read.

I am sorry to hear, you have reason to complain
of Mr. Bell, because he seemed to have some taste in
Gothic, and it may not be easy to find such another.
It is for my sake, not from your own judgment, that
you see the affair I mentioned to you in so good a
light ; I wish, I could foresee any such consequences,
as you do : but fear, it will be the very reverse, and
so do others than I. The Museum goes on as usual :
I have got the Earl of Huntingdon and Sr' George
Bowes's letters to Cecil about the Eebellion in the
North. Heberden has married Miss Wollaston, of
Charterhouse Square, this week, whom he formerly
courted, but could not then afford to have ; for she
has (they say) but £2000 fortune. I have not yet
seen her. My best respects to Mrs. Wharton. I am
ever yours, T. G.

30 LETTERS.

XI. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

April 1760.

DEAR SIR — I received the little letter, and the
inclosed, which was a summons from the insurance
office. On Tuesday last came a dispatch from Lisbon.
It is probable you have had one from my lord ;l but
lest you should not I will tell you the chief contents
of mine. Mr. Pitt says they were both dreadfully
sick all the time they were beating about the Channel,
but when they came to Plymouth (I find) my lord was
so well, however, that he opened a ball in the dock
yard with the Master -attendant's daughter. They
set sail from thence on the 28th, and crossed the bay
with a very smooth sea, came in sight of Cape Finis-
terre in three days' time, and before night saw the
rugged mountains of Galicia with great delight, and
came near the coast of Portugal, opposite to Oporto ;
but (the wind changing in the night) they drove off
to the west, and were in a way to visit the Brazils.
However, on the 7th of this month they entered the
Tagus. He describes the rock of Lisbon as a most
romantic and beautiful scene, and all the north bank
of the river up to the city has (he says) every charm
but verdure. The city itself too in that view is very
noble, and shows but little of the earthquake. This
is all as yet. My lord is to write next packet.

Lord G. S.2 proceeds in his defence. People wonder

1 Lord Kinuoul. 2 Lord George Sackville.

LETTERS. 31

at (and some there are that celebrate) his dexterity,
his easy elocution, and unembarrassed manner. He
told General Cholmondeley, one of his judges, who
was asking a witness some question, that it was such
a question as no gentleman, no man of honour, would
put, and it was one of his misfortunes to have him
among his judges ; upon which some persons behind
him gave a loud clap ; but I do not find the court
either committed or reprimanded them. Lord Albe-
marle only contented himself with saying he was sure
that those men could be neither gentlemen nor men
of honour. In the midst of this I do not hear any
one point made out in his favour; and . . . whose
evidence bore the hardest upon him, and whom he
had reflected upon with great warmth and very
opprobrious terms, has offered the court (if they had
any doubt of his veracity) to procure sixteen more
witnesses who will say the same thing. To be sure
nothing in the field of Minden could be half so
dreadful as this daily baiting he now is exposed to ;
so (supposing him a coward) he has chosen very ill.

I am not very sorry your Venetians have aban
doned you; no more I believe are you. Mason is
very well, sitting as usual for his picture, and while
that is doing will not think of Yorkshire. We heard
Delaval the other night play upon the water-glasses,
and I was astonished. No instrument that I know
has so celestial a tone. I thought it was a cherubim
in a box.

Adieu, dear Sir: remember me to such as re-

32 LETTERS.

member me ; particularly (whether she does or not)
to Mrs. Bonfoy.

I suppose you know Dr. Ross has got the living of
Frome from Lord Weymouth.

XII. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

London, April 22, 1760.

DEAR DOCTOR — I am not sorry to hear, you are
exceeding busy, except as it has deprived me of the
pleasure I should have in hearing often from you,
and as it has been occasioned by a little vexation and
disappointment. To find oneself business (I am per
suaded) is the great art of life ; and I am never so
angry, as when I hear my acquaintance wishing they
had been bred to some poking profession, or employed
in some office of drudgery, as if it were pleasanter to
be at the command of other people, than at one's
own ; and as if they could not go, unless they were
wound up. Yet I know and feel, what they mean by
this complaint : it proves, that some spirit, something
of genius (more than common) is required to teach a
man how to employ himself. I say a Man, for women,
commonly speaking never feel this distemper : they
have always something to do : time hangs not on their
hands (unless they be fine ladies) a variety of small
inventions and occupations fill up the void, and their
eyes are never open in vain.

I thank you heartily for the sow. If you have no
occasion for her, I have ; and if his Ldp> will be so

LETTERS. 33

kind as to drive her up to town, will gladly give him
forty shillings and the chitterlings into the bargain.
I could repay you with the story of my Lady Fr>, but
(I doubt) you know my sow already, especially as you
dwell near Raby. However I'll venture : it may
happen, you have not heard it. About two months
ago Mr. Creswick (the D. of Cleveland's managing
man) received an anonymous letter as from a lady,
offering him (if he would bring about a match between
her and his lord) £3000 to be paid after marriage out
of the estate. If he came into the proposal, a place
was named, where he might speak with the party.
He carried the letter directly to the old Lady Dar
lington, and they agreed, he should go to the place.
He did so, and found there a man, agent for the
Lady : but refusing to treat with any but principals,
after a little difficulty was conducted to her in person,
and found it was my Lady F. (Sr- Ev. F.'s fine young
widow). What passed between them, I know not :
but that very night she was at Lady Darln>'s Assembly
(as she had used to be) and 'no notice taken. The
next morning she received a card to say, Lady D.
had not expected to see her, after what had passed:
otherwise she would have ordered her porter not to
let her in. The whole affair was immediately told to
everybody. Yet she had continued going about all
public places tete levee, and solemnly denying the whole
to her acquaintance. Since that I hear she owns it,
and says, her children were unprovided for, and
desires to know, which of her friends would not have

VOL.111. D

34 LETTERS.

done the same? but as neither of these expedients
succeed very well, she has hired a small house, and is
going into the country for the summer.

Here has just been a duel between the Duke of
Bolton and Mr. Stuart (a candidate for the county of
Hampshire at the late election) what the quarrel was,
I do not know : but they met near Marybone, and
the D. in making a pass over -reached himself, fell
down, and hurt his knee. The other bid him get up,
but he could not. Then he bid him ask his life, but
he would not. So he let him alone, and that's all
Mr. Stuart was slightly wounded.

The old Pundles, that sat on Ld- G. Sackville (for
they were all such, but two, Gen. Cholmondeley and
Ld- Albermarle) have at last hammered out their
sentence. He is declared disobedient, and unfit for
all military command. It is said, that nine (out of
the fifteen) were for death, but as two-thirds must be
unanimous, some of them came over to the merciful
side. I do not affirm the truth of this. What he
will do with himself, nobody guesses. The poor old
duke went into the country some time ago, and (they
say) can hardly bear the sight of anybody. The
unembarrassed countenance, the looks of sovereign
contempt and superiority, that his Ldp- bestowed on
his accusers during the trial, were the admiration of
all : but his usual talents and art did not appear, in
short his cause would not support him. Be that as
it will, everybody blames somebody, who has been out
of all temper, and intractable during the whole time.

LETTERS. 35

Smith (the Aid-de-camp, and principal witness for
Ld' G.) had no sooner finished his evidence, but he
was forbid to mount guard, and ordered to sell out.
The court and the criminal went halves in the expence
of the short-hand writer, so Ld- G. has already pub
lished the trial, before the authentic copy appears ;
and in it are all the foolish questions, that were asked,
and the absurdities of his judges. You may think
perhaps that he intends to go abroad, and hide his
head. Au contraire, all the world visits him on his
condemnation. He says himself, his situation is
better, than ever it was. The Scotch have all along
affected to take him under their protection ; his wife
has been daily walking with Lady Augusta (during
the trial) in Leicester gardens, and Lord B.'s chariot
stands at his door by the hour.

L4" Ferrers has entertained the town for three
days. I was not there, but Mason and Stonehewer
were in the D. of Ancaster's gallery and in the greatest
danger (which I believe they do not yet know them
selves) for the cell underneath them (to which the
prisoner retires) was on fire during the trial, and the
D. of Ancr> with the workmen by sawing away some
timbers and other assistance contrived to put it out
without any alarm given to the Court : several now
recollect they smelt burning and heard a noise of
sawing, but none guessed at the cause. Miss Johnson,
daughter to the murthered man, appeared so cool, and
gave so gentle an evidence, that at first sight every one
concluded, she was bought off : but this could do him

^

-

36 LETTERS.

little good. The surgeon and his own servants laid
open such a scene of barbarity and long-meditated
malice, as left no room for his plea of lunacy, nor any
thought of pity in the hearers. The oddest thing
was this plea of temporary lunacy, and his producing
two brothers of his to prove it, one a Clergyman
(suspended for Methodism by the Bp> of London) the
other a sort of Squire, that goes in the country by the
name of Ragged and Dangerous. He managed the
cause himself with more cleverness than any of his
Counsel, and (when found guilty) asked pardon for
his plea, and laid it upon the persuasions of his family.
Mrs. Shirley (his mother), Lady Huntingdon, and
others of the relations were at Court yesterday with
a petition for mercy ; but on the 5th of May he is to
be hanged at Tyburn.

The town are reading the K. of Prussia's poetry,
(Le Philosophe sans souci) and I have done, like the
town. They do not seem so sick of it, as I am. It
is all the scum of Voltaire and Bolingbroke, the
crambe recocta of our worst Freethinkers, tossed up in
German-French rhyme. Tristram SJiandy1 is still a
greater object of admiration, the man as well as the
book. One is invited to dinner, where he dines, a
fortnight beforehand. His portrait is done by
Reynolds, and now engraving. Tristram Shandy,
Dodsley gives £700 for a second edition, and two
new volumes not yet written ; and to-morrow will

1 Sterne's masterpiece had appeared on the 1st of January of
that year : in March it had become the rage. — [Ed.]

LETTERS. 37

come out two volumes of Sermons by him. Your
friend, Mr. Hall l has printed two Lyric Epistles, one
to my Cousin Shandy on his coming to town, the
other to the grown gentlewomen, the Misses of York :
they seem to me to be absolute madness. These are
the best lines in them : —

I'll tell you a story of Elijah —

Close by a mob of children stood,

Commenting on his sober mood, etc.

And back'd them (their opinions) like such sort of

folks

With a few stones and a few jokes :
Till, weary of their pelting and their prattle,
He ordered out his Bears to battle.
It was delightful fun
To see them run
And eat up the young Cattle.

The 7th volume of Buffon is come over : do you
choose to have it ?

Poor Lady Cobham is at last delivered from a
painful life. She has given Miss Speed above
£30,000.

Mr. Brown is well : I heard from him yesterday,
and think of visiting him soon. Mason and Stone-
hewer are both in town, and (if they were here)
would send their best compliments to you and Mrs.
Whn> with mine. You see, I have left no room for
weather : yet I have observed the birth of the Spring,
which (though backward) is very beautiful at present.
Mind, from this day the thermometer goes to its old

1 John Hall Stevenson (1718-1785), the humorous poet —
[Ed.]

38 LETTERS.

place below in the yard, and so pray let its sister
do. Mr. Stillingfleet l (with whom I am grown
acquainted) has convinced me, it ought to do so.
Adieu !

XIII. — TO JAMES BROWN.

Southampton Row, April 27, 1760.

DEAR SIR — By this time I conclude, you are return'd
to Cambridge : tho' I thought it a long time, before
I heard of you from Thrandeston, and could have
wish'd you had stay'd longer with Palgrave : perhaps
you are in Hertfordshire, however I write at a
venture. I went to Mr. Mann's, and (tho' he is in
Town) not finding him at home, left a note with an
account of my business with him, and my direction.
I have had no message in answer to it : so possibly
he has written to you, and sent the papers. I know
not.

Mr. Precentor is still here, and not in haste to
depart, indeed I do not know whether he has not a
fit of the Gout : it is certain, he had a pain yesterday
in his foot, but whether owing to Bechamel and
Claret, or to cutting a corn, was not determined : he
is still at Stonehewer's house, and has not made his
journey to Eton and to Bath yet, tho' he intends to
do it.

1 Benjamin Stillingfleet (1702-1771), the naturalist, called
the "Blue Stocking." He was one of the first revivers of the
Sonnet.— [Ed.]

LETTERS. 39

We have had no mobs, nor illuminations yet, since
I was here. Wilkes's speech you have seen ; the
Court was so surprised at being contemn'd to its face,
and in the face of the World, that the Chief in a
manner forgot the matter in hand, and enter'd into
an apology for his own past conduct, and so (with the
rest of his Assessors) shuffled the matter off, and left
the danger to the officers of the Crown, that is
indeed, to the Ministry. Nobody had ventured, or
would venture to serve the Capias upon him. I can
not assure, it is done yet ; tho' yesterday I heard it
was, and (if so) he comes again to-day into Court.
He professes himself ready to make any submissions
to the K., but not to give up his pursuit of Ld< Hx\
The Delavals attend very regularly, and take notes of
all that passes. His writ of Error on the Outlawry
must come to a decision before the House of Lords.

I was not among the Coal-heavers at Shadwell,
tho' seven people lost their lives in the fray : [

l] I [ ] Goodmans Fields where the Bawdy-
house was demolish'd. The Ministry (I believe) are
but ticklish in their situation : they talk of Greville
and his Brother, again. Lord forbid ! it must be
dreadful necessity indeed, that brings them back.
Adieu ! I am ever yours, T. G.

If you are at Cambridge, pray let me know.

1 There are lacunce in the MS. here. This letter has not been
printed before. — [Ed.]

40 LETTERS.

XIV. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

London, June 7, 1760.

DEAR MASON — First and foremost pray take notice
of the paper on which I am writing to you ; it is the
first that ever was made of silk rags upon the en
couragement given by your Society of Arts ; and
(if this were all the fruits) I think you need not
regret your two guineas a -year. The colour and
texture you see; and besides I am told it will not
burn (at least will not flame) like ordinary paper,
so that it may be of great use for hanging rooms; it
is uncommonly tough, and, though very thin, you ob
serve, is not transparent. Here is another sort of it,
intended for the uses of drawing.

You have lately had a visit where you are that I
am sure bodes no good, especially just at the time
that the Dean of Canterbury1 and Mr. Blacowe died;
we attribute it to a miff about the garter, and some
other humps and grumps that he has received. Alas !
I fear it will never do. The Conde" de Fuentes was
much at a loss, and had like to have make a quarrel
of it, that he had nobody but the D[uke] of N[ew-

1 Dr. Lynch, Dean of Canterbury from 1734 to May 25,
1760, when he died ; succeeded, June 14, by Dr. William
Friend, son of the third master of Westminster School. The
Rev. Richard Blacowe, Canon of Windsor, F.R.S., died on
13th May 1760.— \AIU.]

LETTERS. 41

castle] to introduce him; but Miss Chudleigh1 has
appeased him with a ball.

I have sent Musceus to Mr. Fraser, scratched here
and there; and with it I desired him to inclose a
bloody satire,2 written against no less persons than
you and me by name. I concluded at first it was Mr.
Pottinger, because he is your friend and my humble
servant ; but then I thought he knew the world too
well to call us the favourite minions of taste and of
fashion, especially as to Odes, for to them his abuse
is confined. So it is not Secretary Pottinger,3 but
Mr. Colman, nephew to my Lady Bath, author of
The Connoisseur, a member of some of the inns of
court, and a particular acquaintance of Mr. Gar-
rick's. What have you done to him, for I never
heard his name before? He makes very tolerable
fun with me, where I understand him, which is not
everywhere, but seems more angry with you. Lest
people should not understand the humour of the
thing (which indeed to do they must have our

1 Miss Chudleigh, afterwards the celebrated Duchess of
Kingston.

2 Alluding to two odes, to Obscurity and Oblivion, written
by G. Colman and R. Lloyd, which appeared in ridicule of
him and Mason. The Ode to Obscurity was chiefly directed
against Gray, that to Oblivion against Mason. Warburton,
in a letter to Hurd, calls them "two miserable buffoon odes,"
and not without reason. Dr. J. Warton says : " The Odes of
Gray were burlesqued by two men of wit and genius, who,
however, once said to me that they repented of the attempt." —
[Jffe]

3 Mr. Richard Pottinger, Under- Secretary of State in 1754.

42 LETTERS.

lyricisms at their fingers' ends), he writes letters in
Lloyd's Evening Post to tell them who and what it
was that he meant, and says that it is like to produce
a great combustion in the literary world ; so if you
have any mind to combustle about it well and good ;
for me, I am neither so literary nor so combustible.

I am going into Oxfordshire for a fortnight to a
place near Henley,1 and then to Cambridge, if that
owl Fobus2 does not hinder me, who talks of going to
fizzle there at the commencement.

What do you say to Lord Lyttelton, your old
patron, and Mrs. Montagu, with their second-hand
Dialogues of the Dead ? And then there is your friend
the little black man;3 he has written one supplemental
dialogue, but I did not read it

1 Park Place, near Henley, at that time the seat of General
Conway and Lady Ailesbury. Horace Walpole writes to Lady
Ossory : " My Lady Ailesbury has been much diverted, and so
will you too. Gray is in this neighbourhood. Lady Carlisle
says, ' He is extremely like me in his manner. ' They went as a
party to dine on a cold loaf, and passed the day. Lady A.
protests he never opened his lips but once, and then only said,
'Yes, my lady, I believe so.'"— [Hit.}

2 Lord Holland in a few words drew the character of the
Duke of Newcastle (the owl Fobus) a little before the latter's
death, and not long before his own. "His Grace had no
friends, and deserved none. He had no rancour, no ill nature,
which I think much to his honour ; but, though a very good
quality, it is only a negative one, and he had absolutely no one
portion good, either of his heart or head." — [Afit.]

3 Gray probably means Dr. J. Brown, author of The Estimate,
to whom the dialogue called Pericles and Aristides was attri
buted.— [Ed.]

LETTERS. 43

Do tell me of your health, your doings, your de
signs, and your golden dreams, and try to love me a
little better in Yorkshire than you did in Middlesex,
— For I am ever yours, T. G.

XV. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

London, June 27, 1760.

DEAR OLD SOUL — I cannot figure to myself what you
should mean by my old papers. I sent none ; all I
can make out is this — when I sent the Musceus and
the Satire home to Mr. Fraser, my boy carried back
the Conway Papers to a house in your street,1 as I
remember they were divided into three parcels, on
the least of which I had written the word "nothing,"
or "of no consequence." It did not consist of above
twenty letters at most; and if you find anything
about Mr. Bourne's affairs, or stewards' and servants'
letters and bills, it is certainly so. This was carried
to Mr. Fraser by mistake, and sent to Aston ; and
if this is the case, they may as well be burnt ; but
if there is a good number, and about affairs of State
(which you may smell out), then it is one of the
other parcels, and I am distressed, and must find
some method of getting it up again. I think I had
inscribed the two packets that signified anything,
one, "Papers of Queen Elizabeth or earlier," the
other, which was a great bundle, "Papers of King
James and Charles the First." Pray Heaven it is
1 To Horace Walpole's house in Arlington Street.

44 LETTERS.

neither of these; therefore do not be precipitate in
burning.

I do not like your improvements at Aston, it
looks so like settling;1 if I come I will set fire to
it. Your policy and your gratitude I approve, and
your determination never to quarrel and ever to pray;
but I, that believe it want of power, am certainly
civiller to a certain person than you, that call it
want of exertion. I will never believe they are
dead, though I smelt them; that sort of people
always live to a good old age. I dare swear they
are only gone to Ireland, and we shall soon hear they
are bishops.

The bells are ringing, the squibs bouncing, the
siege of Quebec is raised. Swanton got up the river
when they were bombarding the town. Murray made
a sally and routed them, and took all their baggage.
This is the sum and substance in the vulgar tongue,
for I cannot get the Gazette till midnight. Perhaps

1 Mason pulled down the old rectory and built another
very commodious house, changing the site, so as from his
windows to command a beautiful and extensive prospect,
bounded by the Derbyshire hills. He also much enlarged and
improved the garden, planting a small group of tulip-trees at
the farther end, near the summer-house dedicated to Gray.
In another site, opposite the front door, and seen between
some clumps, is a terminus, with the head of Milton : on the
landing of the staircase, a copy of the Bocca Padugli eagle
from Strawberry Hill. Since Mason's time the country round
Aston has been much more exposed by the woods being cut
down, and the beauty of the views from his place in that re
spect injured. — [MU.]

LETTERS. 45

you have had an estafette, since I find their cannon
are all taken; and that two days after a French fleet,
going to their assistance, was intercepted and sunk or
burnt.

To-morrow I go into Oxfordshire, and a fortnight
hence, when old Fobus's owl's nest1 is a little aired,
I go into it. Adieu, am ever and ever T. G.

XVI. — TO HORACE WALPOLE.

I AM so charmed with the two specimens of Erse
poetry,2 that I cannot help giving you the trouble
to enquire a little farther about them, and should
wish to see a few lines of the original, that I may
form some slight idea of the language, the measures,
and the rhythm.

Is there anything known of the author or authors,
and of what antiquity are they supposed to be ? Is
there any more to be had of equal beauty, or at all
approaching to it 1 I have been often told that the
Poem called " Hardicanute " (which I always admired
and still admire) was the work of somebody that lived
a few years ago.3 This I do not at all believe, though

1 When the University, after the Commemoration has passed,
is again quiet, which Gray calls the "nest" of the Chancellor
the Duke of Newcastle.— [Mit.]

2 That is to say, with the first installment of MacPherson's
Ossian.— [Ed.]

3 Lady Wardlaw was the author of the first part of this
ballad, which she communicated through her brother Sir John
Bruce, to Lord Binning. The Ballad was first published in

46 LETTERS.

it has evidently been retouched in places by some
modern hand : but however, I am authorised by this
report to ask, whether the two Poems in question are
certainly antique and genuine. I make this enquiry
in quality of an antiquary, and am not otherwise
concerned about it : for, if I were sure that any one
now living in Scotland had written them to divert
himself, and laugh at the credulity of the world, I
would undertake a journey into the Highlands only
for the pleasure of seeing him.

XVII. — TO RICHARD STONEHEWER.

London, June 29, 1760.

THOUGH you have had but a melancholy employment,
it is worthy of envy, and (I hope) will have all the
success it deserves.1 It was the best and most natural
method of cure, and such as could not have been
administered by any but your gentle hand. I thank
you for communicating to me what must give you so
much satisfaction.

I too was reading M. D'Alembert,2 and (like you)
am totally disappointed in his Elements. I could

1719. Lady Wardlaw died about 1727. The second part is a
forgery by Mr. Pinkerton, which he confessed in the Maitland
Poems. He also, it appears, considerably corrupted the text
of the first part— [Mil.}

1 Mr. Stonehewer was now at Houghton-le-Spring, in the
Bishopric of Durham, attending on his sick father, rector of
that parish. — [Mason.]

2 Two subsequent volumes of his Melanges de Literature <k
Philosophic. — [Mason. ]

LETTERS. 47

only taste a little of the first course : it was dry as a
stick, hard as a stone, and cold as a cucumber. But
then the letter to Eousseau is like himself ; and the
" Discourses -on Elocution," and on the "Liberty of
Music," are divine. He has added to his translations
from Tacitus ; and (what is remarkable) though that
author's manner more nearly resembles the best French
writers of the present age, than anything, he totally
fails in the attempt. Is it his fault, or that of the
language ?

I have received another Scotch packet with a
third specimen, inferior in kind (because it is merely
description), but yet full of nature and noble wild
imagination. Five Bards pass the night at the Castle
of a Chief (himself a principal Bard) ; each goes out
in his turn to observe the face of things, and returns
with an extempore picture of the changes he has
seen ; it is an October night (the harvest -month of
the Highlands). This is the whole plan ; yet there
is a contrivance, and a preparation of ideas, that you
would not expect. The oddest thing is, that every
one of them sees Ghosts (more or less). The idea,
that struck and surprised me most, is the following.
One of them (describing a storm of wind and rain)
says

" Ghosts ride on the tempest to-night :
Sweet is their voice between the gusts of wind ;
Their songs are of other worlds /"

Did you never observe (while rocking winds are piping
loud) that pause, as the gust is recollecting itself, and

48 LETTERS.

rising upon the ear in a shrill and plaintive note, like
the swell of an ^Eolian harp ? I do assure you there
is nothing in the world so like the voice of a spirit.
Thomson had an ear sometimes : he was not deaf to
this ; and has described it gloriously, but given it
another different turn, and of more horror. I cannot
repeat the lines: it is in his "Winter." There is
another very fine picture in one of them. It describes
the breaking of the clouds after the storm, before it
is settled into a calm, and when the moon is seen by
short intervals.

"The waves are tumbling on the lake,
And lash the rocky sides.
The boat is brim-full in the cove,
The oars on the rocking tide.
Sad sits a maid beneath a dill',
And eyes the rolling stream :
Her lover promised to come,

She saw his boat (when it was evening) on the lake ;
Are these his groans in the gale t
Is this his broken boat on the shore ?" *

1 The whole of this descriptive piece has been since published
in a note to a poem entitled "Croma." (See Ossian's Poems,
vol. i. p. 350, 8vo). It is somewhat remarkable that the
manuscript, in the translator's own hand, which I have in my
possession, varies considerably from the printed copy. Some
images are omitted, and others added. I will mention one
which is not in the manuscript, the spirit of the mountain
shrieks. In the tragedy of Douglas, published at least three
years before, I always admired this fine line, the angry spirit of
the water shriek' d. — Quere : Did Mr. Home take this sublime
image from Ossian, or has the translator of Ossian since bor
rowed it from Mr. Home ? — [Mason.]

LETTERS. 49

XVIII. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Endorsed [July 1760].

DEAR DOCTOR — I heard yesterday from your old
friend Mr. Field, that Mrs. Wharton had brought
you a son, and as I sincerely hope this may be some
addition to your happiness, I heartily congratulate
you both on the occasion. Another thing I rejoice
in is, to know, that you not only grow reconciled to
your scene, but discover beauties round you, that
once were deformities. I am persuaded the whole
matter is to have always something going forward.
Happy they, that can create a rose-tree, or erect a
honey-suckle, that can watch the brood of a hen, or
see a fleet of their own ducklings launch into the
water ! It is with a sentiment of envy I speak it,
who never shall have even a thatched roof of my
own, nor gather a strawberry but in Covent Garden.
I will not believe in the vocality of Old Park till next
summer, when perhaps I may trust my own ears.

I remain (bating some few little excursions, that
I have made) still in town, though for these three
weeks I have been going into Oxfordshire with
Madam Speed; but her affairs, as she says, or her
vagaries, as I say, have obliged her to alter her mind
ten times within that space : no wonder, for she has
got at least £30,000, with a house in town, plate,
jewels, china, and old japan infinite, so that indeed
it would be ridiculous for her to know her own mind.

VOL. III. E

50 LETTERS.

I, who know mine, do intend to go to Cambridge, but
that owl Fobus is going thither to the commence
ment, so that I am forced to stay till his nonsense is
at an end. Chapman you see is dead at last, which
signifies not much, I take it, to anybody, for his
family (they say) are left in good circumstances. I
am neither sorry, nor glad, for Mason (I doubt) will
scarce succeed to his prebend. The old creature
is down at Aston, where my Lord1 has paid him a
visit lately, as the town says, in a miff, about the
garter, and other Trumps, he has met with of late. I
believe, this at least is certain, that he has deserted
his old attachments, and worships another idol, who
receives his incense with a good deal of coldness and
negligence.

I can tell you but little of St. Germain. He saw
Monsieur D'Affray at the Hague, who, in a day or
two (on receiving a courier from his own court) asked
the States leave to apprehend him, 2 but he was gone,
and arrived safe in St. Mary Ax, where he had lodg
ings (I fancy) at his old friend La Cours, the Jew-
Physician. After some days a messenger took charge
of him, and he was examined (I believe) before Mr.
Pitt. They however dismissed him, but with orders

1 Lord Holdernesse.

8 Count de St. Germain, who commanded an army on the
Rhine of 30,000 men against the Allied forces, conceiving dis
gust at being obliged to serve under the Duke de Broglio, who
was his junior in the service, relinquished his command ; and
it is, I conclude, to him that Gray alludes. Count d'Affray
was the French Ambassador at the Hague. — [Mit.]

LETTERS. 51

to leave England directly, yet I know care was taken,
that he should be furnished with proper passports to
go safe through Holland, to Hamburgh ; which gives
some room to believe, what many at first imagined,
that he was charged with some proposal from the
French Court. He is a likely person enough to make
them believe at Paris, that he could somehow serve
them on such an occasion.

We are in great alarms about Quebec. The force
in the town was not 3000 men, sufficient to defend
the place (naturally strong) against any attack of the
French forces, unfurnished as they must be for a
formal siege : but by no means to meet them in the
field. This however is what Murray has chose to
do, whether from rashness, or deceived by false intelli
gence, I cannot tell. The returns of our loss are un
doubtedly false, for we have above 100 officers killed
or taken. All depends upon the arrival of our garrison
from Louisberg, which was daily expected, but even
that (unless they bring provisions with them) may
increase the distress, for at the time, when we were
told of the plenty and cheapness of all things at
Quebec, I am assured, a piece of fresh meat could
not be had for twenty guineas.

If you have seen Stonehewer he has probably told
you of my old Scotch (or rather Irish) poetry. I am
gone mad about them. They are said to be transla
tions (literal and in prose) from the Erse tongue,
done by one Macpherson, a young clergyman in the
Highlands. He means to publish a collection he has

52 LETTERS.

of these specimens of antiquity, if it be antiquity :
but what plagues me is, I cannot come at any certainty
on that head. I was so struck, so extasie with their
infinite beauty, that I writ into Scotland to make a
thousand enquiries. The letters I have in return are
ill wrote, ill reasoned, unsatisfactory, calculated (one
would imagine) to deceive one, and yet not cunning
enough to do it cleverly. In short, the whole external
evidence would make one believe these fragments (for
so he calls them, though nothing can be more entire)
counterfeit : but the internal is so strong on the other
side, that I am resolved to believe them genuine, spite
of the Devil and the Kirk. It is impossible to con
vince me, that they were invented by the same man,
that writes me these letters. On the other hand it is
almost as hard to suppose, if they are original, that
he should be able to translate them so admirably.
What can one do1? since Stonehewer went, I have
received another of a very different and inferior kind
(being merely descriptive) much more modern than
the former (he says) yet very old too ; this too in its
way is extremely fine. In short this man is the very
Daemon of poetry, or he has lighted on a treasure hid
for ages. The Welch Poets are also coming to light :
I have seen a Discourse in MS. about them (by one
Mr. Evans, a clergyman) with specimens of their
writings. This is in Latin, and though it don't
approach the other, there are fine scraps among it.

You will think I am grown mighty poetical of a
sudden ; you would think so still more, if you knew,

LETTERS. 53

there was a Satire printed against me and Mason
jointly, it is called Two Odes : the one is inscribed to
Obscurity (that is me) the other to Oblivion. It tells
me, what I never heard before, for (speaking of him
self) the Author says, though he has,

" Nor the Pride, nor self-Opinion,
That possess the happy Pair,
Each of Taste the fav'rite Minion,
Prancing thro' the desert air :
Yet shall he mount, with classic housings grac'd,
By help mechanick of equestrian hlock ;
And all unheedful of the Critic's mock
Spur his light courser o'er the bounds of Taste."

The writer is a Mr. Colman, who published the
Connoisseur, nephew to the late Lady Bath, and a
friend of Garrick's. I believe his Odes sell no more
than mine did, for I saw a heap of them lie in a book
seller's window, who recommended them to me as a
very pretty thing.

If I did not mention Tristram to you, it was because
I thought I had done so before. There is much
good fun in it, and humour sometimes hit and some
times missed. I agree with your opinion of it, and
shall see the two future volumes with pleasure.
Have you read his sermons (with his own comic
figure at the head of them)? they are in the style, I
think, most proper for the pulpit, and shew a very
strong imagination and a sensible heart : but you see
him often tottering on the verge of laughter, and
ready to throw his periwig in the face of his audience.
Now for my season.

54 LETTERS.

April 10. I observed the elm putting out.

12. That, and the pear looked green. Therm, at 62.

13. Very fine ; white poplar and willow put out.
15. Standard pear (sheltered) in full hloom.

18. Lime and horn-beam green.

19. Swallows flying.

20. Therm, at 60. Wind S.W. Sky-lark, chaffinch,

thrush, wren, and robin singing. Horse-chesnut,
wild-briar, bramble, and sallow had spread their
leaves. Haw -thorn and lilac had formed their
blossoms. Black-thorn, double-flowered peach, and
pears in full bloom ; double tonquils, hyacinths,
anemones, single wall-flowers, and auriculas, in
flower. In the fields, — dog violets, daisies, dande
lion, butter-cups, red -archangel, and shepherd's
purse.

21. Almond out of bloom, and spreading its leaves.
26. Lilacs flowering.

May 1. Gentianella in flower.

2. Pear goes off; apple blows. Therm, at 63. Wind

N.E. still fair and dry.

3. Evening and all night hard rain.

4. Th. at 40. Wind N.E. rain.

11. Very fine. Wind N.E. Horse-chesnut in full bloom.
Walnut and vine spread. Lilacs, Persian jasmine,
tulips, wall-flowers, pheasant-eye, lily-in-the-valley
in flower. In the fields, — furze, cowslips, hare
bells, and cow-parsnip.

13. Jasmine and acacia spread. Fine weather.

18. Showery. Wind high.

19. Same. Therm, at 56.

20. Thunder, rain . 54.

21. Rain, Wind N.E. 52.
31. Green Peas 15d. a quart.

June 1. Therm, at 78.

2. Scarlet strawberries, duke - cherries ; hay - making

here.

3. Wind S.S.E. Therm, at 84 (the highest I ever saw

it), it was at noon. Since which, till last week

LETTERS. 55

we had hot dry weather. Now it rains like mad.
Cherries and strawberries in bushels.

I believe there is no fear of war with Spain.
[July 1760.J1

XIX. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke Hall, August 7, 1760.

DEAR MASON — Your packet, being directed to me
here, lay some days in expectation of my arrival (for
I did not come till about ten days since) ; so, if the
letter inclosed to Dr. Zachary Howlet2 were not
delivered so soon as it ought to have been, you must
not lay the fault to my charge.

It is a great misfortune that I dare not present
your new seal to the senate in congregation assembled,
as I long to do. Not only the likeness, but the
character of the fowl is so strongly marked, that I
should wish it were executed in marble, by way of
bas-relief, on, the pedestal of George the Second,
which his Grace proposes soon to erect in the Theatre.
Mr. Brown and I think we discover beauties which
perhaps the designer never intended. There is a
brave little mitred Madge already on the wing, who
is flying, as it were, in the face of his parent ; this,
we say, is Bishop K. : 3 then there is a second, with

1 Endorsed July 1761, but endorsed 1760 at beginning : no
post-mark. — [Ed.]

2 Dr. Zachary Grey is meant.

3 Bishops Edmund Keeiie and Philip Yonge are meant.

56 LETTERS.

ingratitude in its face, though not in its attitude, that
will do the same as soon as it is fledged and has the
courage ; this is Bishop Y. : a third, that looks mighty
modest, and has two little ears sprouting, but no
mitre yet, we take for Dean G. : l the rest are embryos
that have nothing distinguishing, and only sit and
pull for a bit of mouse; they won't be prebends
these five days, grace of God, and if the nest is not
taken first.

Your friend Dr. Chfapman] died of- a looseness :
about a week before, he eat five large mackerel, full
of roe, to his own share ; but what gave the finish
ing stroke was a turbot, on Trinity Sunday, of which
he left but very little for the company. Of the
mackerel I have eyewitnesses, so the turbot may
well find credit He has left, I am told, £15,000
behind him.

The Erse Fragments have been published five
weeks ago in Scotland, though I had them not (by a
mistake) till last week As you tell me new things
do not soon reach you at Aston, I inclose what I
can ; the rest shall follow when you tell me whether
you have not got it already. I send the two which I
had before, for Mr. AVood, because he has not the
affectation of not admiring. I continue to think them
genuine, though my reasons for believing the contrary
are rather stronger than ever : but I will have them
antique, for I never knew a Scotchman of my own
time that could read, much less write, poetry; and

1 I presume Dr. John Greene, Dean of Lincoln. — [MiL]

LETTERS. 57

such poetry too ! I have one (from Mr. Macpherson)
which he has not printed : it is mere description, but
excellent, too, in its kind. If you are good, and will
learn to admire, I will transcribe it. Pray send to
Sheffield for the last Monthly Review : there is a deal
of stuff about us and Mr. Colman. It says one of us,
at least, has always borne his faculties meekly. I
leave you to guess which that is : I think I know.
You oaf, you must be meek, must you ? and see what
you get by it !

I thank you for your care of the old papers : they
were entirely insignificant, as you suspected.

Billy Kobinson has been married near a fortnight
to a Miss Richardson (of his own age, he says, and not
handsome), with £10,000 in her pocket; she lived
with an (unmarried) infirm brother, who (the first
convoy that sails) sets out with the bride and bride
groom in his company for Naples ; you see it is
better to be curate of Kensington than rector of
Aston.

Lord Jfohn] C[avendish] called upon me here
the other day ; young Ponsonby,1 his nephew, is to
come this year to the University, and, as his Lord
ship (very justly) thinks that almost everything de
pends on the choice of a private tutor, he desires me
to look out for such a thing, but without engaging

1 One of the four sons of William, second Lord Ponsonby and
Earl of Besborough, who all died young. He married Lady
Caroline Cavendish, 1739, eldest daughter of William Duke of
Devonshire, who died this year, 1760. — [Mit.]

58 LETTERS.

him to anything. Now I am extremely unacquainted
with the younger part of Cambridge, and conse
quently can only enquire of other people, and (what
is worse) have nobody now here whose judgment I
could much rely on. In my own conscience I know
no one I should sooner recommend than Onley,1 and
besides (I own) should wish to bring him to this
college ; yet I have scruples, first because I am afraid
Onley should not answer my lord's expectations (for
what he is by way of a scholar I cannot tell), and
next because the young man (who is high-spirited
and unruly) may chance to be more than a match
for Mr. B[rown], with whom the authority must be
lodged. I have said I would enquire, and mean (if
I could) to do so without partiality to any college :
but believe, after all, I shall find no better. Now
I perceive you have said something to Lord Jfohn]
already to the same purpose, therefore tell me what I
shall do in this case. If you chance to see his lordship
you need not mention it, unless he tell you himself
what has passed between us.

Adieu, dear Mason, I am ever yours.

A Note.— Having made many enquiries about the
authenticity of these Fragments,2 I have got a letter
from Mr. David Hume, the historian, which is more

1 Charles Onley, a fellow of Pembroke College from 1756 to
1763 ; the family has remained faithful to Pembroke until this
day.— [Ed.]

2 Hume's letter is printed entire in European Magazine,
vol. v. p. 327, March 1784.

LETTERS. 59

satisfactory than anything I have yet met with on that
subject : he says, —

" Certain it is that these poems are in everybody's
mouth in the Highlands — have been handed down
from father to son — and are of an age beyond all
memory and tradition. Adam Smith, the celebrated
Professor in Glasgow, told me that the piper of the
Argyleshire militia repeated to him all those which
Mr. Macpherson has translated, and many more of
equal beauty. Major Mackay (Lord Rae's brother)
told me that he remembers them perfectly well ; as
likewise did the Laird of Macfaiiine (the greatest
antiquarian we have in this country), and who insists
strongly on the historical truth, as well as the poetical
beauty, of these productions. I could add the Laird
and Lady Macleod, with many more that live in
different parts of the Highlands, very remote from
each other, and could only be acquainted with what
had become (in a manner) national works. There is
a country-surgeon in Lochaber, who has by heart the
entire epic poem mentioned by Mr. Macpherson in
his Preface, and, as he is old, is perhaps the only
person living that knows it all, and has never com
mitted it to writing. We are in the more haste to
recover a monument which will certainly be regarded
as a curiosity in the republic of letters. We have
therefore set about a subscription of a guinea or two
guineas a-piece in order to enable Mr. Macpherson to
undertake a mission into the Highlands to recover
this poem and other fragments of antiquity."

60 LETTERS.

I forgot to mention to you that the names of
Fingal, Ossian, Oscar, etc., are still given in the High
lands to large mastiffs, as we give to ours the names
of Caesar, Pompey, Hector, etc.

XX. — TO DR. CLARKE.1

Pembroke Hall, August 12, 1760.

NOT knowing whether you are yet returned from
your sea-water, I write at random to you. For me, I
am come to my resting place, and find it very neces
sary, after living for a month in a house with three
women that laughed from morning to night, and
would allow nothing to the sulkiness of my disposi
tion. Company and cards at home, parties by land
and water abroad, and (what they call) doing something,
that is, racketting about from morning to night, are
occupations, I find, that wear out my spirits, especi
ally in a situation where one might sit still, and be
alone with pleasure ; for the place was a hill like
Clifden, opening to a very extensive and diversified
landscape, with the Thames, which is navigable, run
ning at its foot.

I would wish to continue here (in a very different
scene, it must be confessed) till Michaelmas; but I
fear I must come to town much sooner. Cambridge

1 Physician at Epsom. With this gentleman Mr. Gray com
menced an early acquaintance at College. — [Mason.] He was
the husband of the lady whose Epitaph in verse Gray wrote. —
[£*.]

LETTERS. 61

is a delight of a place, now there is nobody in it. I
do believe you would like it, if you knew what it was
without inhabitants. It is they, I assure you, that
get it an ill name and spoil all. Our friend Dr. Chap
man (one of its nuisances) is not expected here again
in a hurry. He is gone to his grave with five fine
mackerel (large and full of roe) in his belly. He eat
them all at one dinner ; but his fate was a turbot on
Trinity Sunday, of which he left little for the com
pany besides bones. He had not been hearty all the
week ; but after this sixth fish he never held up his
head more, and a violent looseness carried him off.
—They say he made a very good end.

Have you seen the Erse Fragments since they were
printed 1 I am more puzzled than ever about their
antiquity, though I still incline (against everybody's
opinion) to believe them old. Those you have already
seen are the best ; though there are some others that
are excellent too.

XXI. —TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

July 1760.

DEAR SIR — I guess what the packet is, and desire
you would keep it, for I am come back hither, and
hope to be with you on Tuesday night. I shall trouble
you to have my bed aired, and to speak about a
lodging for my servant ; though (if it be not contrary
to the etiquette of the college) I should rather hope
there might be some garret vacant this summer time,

62 LETTERS.

and that he might lie within your walls ; but this I
leave to your consideration.

This very night Billy Robinson consummates his
good fortune ; she has £1 0,000 in her pocket, and a
brother unmarried with at least as much more. He
is infirm, and the first convoy that sails they all three
set out together for Naples to pass a year or two. I
insist upon it he owes all this to Mr. Talbot in the
first place, and in the second to me, and have insisted
on a couple of thousand pounds between us — the
least penny — or he is a shabby fellow.

I ask pardon about Madame de Fuentes1 and her
twelve ladies. I heard it in good company, when
first she arrived, piping hot; and I suppose it was
rather what people apprehended than what they ex
perienced. She surely brought them over, but I do
not find she has carried them about ; on the contrary,
she calls on my Lady Hervey2 in a morning in an
undress, and desires to be without ceremony ; and the
whole tribe, except Madame de Mora (the young
countess), were at Miss Chudleigh's ball and many
other places : but of late Dr. Alren3 (whom nobody
ever liked) has advised them to be disagreeable, and
they accept of no invitations.

1 The wife of the Spanish Ambassador.

8 The Mary Lepell of Pope, and to whom Voltaire addressed
some English verses ; born 1700 ; married John Lord Hervey
1720 ; died in 1768, aged 67. Archdeacon Nares speaks of her
as "that very superior woman, Lady Hervey." — [MU.]

3 Probably the Catholic priest attending on the family. —
[Mit.]

LETTERS. 63

Adieu, dear sir ; I hope so soon to be with you,
that I may spare you the trouble of reading any more.
— I am ever yours, T. G.

I hear there was a quarrel at the Commons, be
tween Dr. Barnard1 and Dr. Ogden — mackerel or
turbot.

XXII. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Saturday, August 1760.

DEAR SIR — This is to inform you that I hope to see
you on Monday night at Cambridge. If Fobus will
come, I cannot help it. I must go and see somebody
during that week — no matter where. Pray let Bleek
make an universal rummage of cobwebs, and massacre
all spiders, old and young, that live behind window-
shutters and books. As to airing, I hear Dick For
rester has done it. Mason is at Prior Park, so I can
say nothing of him. The stocks fell, I believe, in
consequence of your prayers, for there was no other
reason. Adieu. — I am ever yours, T. G.

1 Edward Barnard, D.D., the well-known learned and ac
complished Master of Eton, and afterwards Provost, Canon of
Windsor on Richard Blacowe's decease.— [Mit.]

64 LETTERS.

XXIII.— TO THOMAS WHARTON.

London, October 21, 1760.

DEAR DOCTOR — Don't be afraid of me : I will not
come, till you tell me, I may : though I long very
much to see you. I hear, you have let your hair grow,
and visit none of your neighbouring gentry ; two (I
should think) capital crimes in that county, and in
deed in all counties. I hear too (and rejoice) that
you have recovered your hearing. I have nothing
equally important to tell you of myself, but that I
have not had the gout, since I saw you ; yet don't let
me brag ; the winter is but just begun.

I have passed a part of the summer on a charming
hill near Henley1 with the Thames running at my
foot ; but in the company of a pack of women, that
wore my spirits, though not their own. The rest of
the season I was at Cambridge in a duller, and more
congenial, situation. Did I tell you, that our friend
Chapman, a week before he died, eat five huge mac
kerel (fat and full of roe) at one dinner, which pro
duced an indigestion : but on Trinity Sunday he
finished himself with the best part of a large turbot,
which he carried to his grave, poor man ! he never
held up his head after. From Cambridge I am come
hither, yet am going into Kent for a fortnight, or so.
You astonish me in wondering, that my Lady C[obham]
left me nothing. For my part I wondered to find she

1 Park Place, the seat of the Honourable Henry Seymour
Con way, the friend and correspondent of Wai pole.— [Mit.]

\ LETTERS. 65

had given me £20 for a ring ; as much as she gave to
several of her own nieces. The world said, before
her death, that Mrs. Speed and I had shut ourselves
up with her in order to make her will, and that after
wards we were to be married.

There is a second edition of the Scotch Fragments,
yet very few admire them, and almost all take them
for fictions. I have a letter from D. Hume, the his
torian, that asserts them to be genuine, and cites the
names of several people (that know both languages)
who have heard them current in the mouths of pipers,
and other illiterate persons in various and distant
parts of the Highlands. There is a subscription for
Mr. Macpherson, which will enable him to undertake
a mission among the Mountaineers, and pick up all
the scattered remnants of old Poetry. He is certainly
an admirable judge ; if his learned friends do not per
vert or overrule his taste.

Mason is here in town, but so dissipated with his
duties at Sion Hill, or his attention to the Beaux-
Arts, that I see but little of him. The last Spring
(for the first time) there was an Exhibition in a public
room of Pictures, Sculptures, Engravings, etc., sent in
by all the Artists in imitation of what has been long
practised in Paris. Among the rest there is a Mr.
Sandby,1 who excells in Landscape, with Figures,

1 Afterwards Paul Sandby, R.A. (1725-1798), the celebrated
water-colour painter. At this time he was engaged in reviling
Hogarth, and in organising the Incorporated Society of Artists.
In 1768 he became one of the original members of the Royal
Academy.— [Ed.}

VOL. III. F

66 LETTERS.

Views of Buildings, Ruins, etc., and has been much
employed by the Duke, Lord Harcourt, Lord Scar
borough, and others. Hitherto he has dealt in wash'd
drawings and water-colours, but has of late only
practised in oil. He (and Mason together) have
cooked up a great picture of Mount Snowdon, in
which the Bard and Edward the First make their
appearance ; and this is to be his Exhibition-Picture
for next year, but (till then) it is a sort of secret.

The great Expedition1 takes up everybody's
thoughts. There is such a train of artillery on
board, as never was seen before during this war.
Some talk of Brest, others of Rochfort, if the wind
(which is very high) does not blow it away. I do
believe it will succeed, for the French seem in a
miserable way.

The Duke2 is well recovered of his paralytic attack,
though it is still visible in his face, when he speaks.
It has been occasioned by the long intermission of
his usual violent exercises, for he cannot ride, or walk
much now on account of a dropsy confined to a certain
part, and not dangerous in itself. Yet he appears at
Newmarket, but in his chaise.

Mason and Mr. Brown send their best services.
Dr. Heberden enquires kindly after you, and has his
good dinners as usual. Adieu, dear Sir, and present

1 The strong Armament destined for a secret Expedition was
collected at Portsmouth ; but after being detained there the
whole summer, the design was laid aside. — [Smollett.]

2 Duke of Cumberland.

LETTERS. 67

my compliments to Mrs. Wharton. — I am ever truly
yours, T. G.

XXIV. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

South11. Row, October 23, 1760.

DEAR SIR — I am obliged to you for your letter, and
the bills inclosed, which I shall take the first oppor
tunity I have to satisfy.

I imagine by this then Lord John is or has been
with you to settle matters. Mr. Onley (from whom
I have twice heard) consents, though with great diffi
dence of himself, to undertake this task ; but cannot
well be there himself till about the 13th of November.
I would gladly hear what your first impressions are
of the young man, for (I must tell you plainly) our
Mason, who had seen him at Chatsworth, was not
greatly edified ; but he hopes the best. To-morrow
Dr. Gisborne1 and I go to dine with that reverend

1 Dr. Thomas Gisborne, in 1759, was elected a Fellow and
Censor of the College of Physicians ; he is also designated Med.
Reg. ad Familiam. In 1791 he was President of the College,
again in 1794, in 1796. and every succeeding year till 1S03, in
clusive : his name does not appear after 1805. He had been
Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge. Dr. Gisborne was
known to the present learned President of the College of Phy
sicians, who remembers having met him at the dinner-table of
Sir Isaac Pennington, at Cambridge. He was rather short and
corpulent. When the Government of the day agreed to pur
chase John Hunter's Museum, the offer of being the Conservator
of the Collection was made to the College of Physicians, through
Dr. Gisborne, then President of the College. He put the letter
in his pocket, forgot it, and the offer was never brought before

68 LETTERS.

gentleman (Mason) at Kensington during his waiting.
He makes many kind enquiries after you, but I see
very little of him, he is so taken up with the beaux-
arts. He has lately etched my head with his own
hand;1 and his friend Mr. Sandby, the landscape
painter, is doing a great picture with a view of M.
Snowdon, the Bard, Edward the First, etc. Now all
this I take for a bribe, a sort of hush-money to me,
who caught him last year sitting for his own picture,
and know that at this time there is another painter
doing one of the scenes in Elfrida.

In my way to town I met with the first news of
the expedition from Sir William Williams, who makes
a part of it, and perhaps may lay his fine Vandyck
head in the dust2 They talk, some of Rochefort,

the consideration of the College. The Government subsequently
made an offer of it to the College of Surgeons, and it now forms
the chief part of their valuable Museum in Lincoln's Inn Fields.
It was said that the College of Physicians declined to receive
this collection, and this has been constantly repeated. For
this curious anecdote, I am indebted to the kindness of the
present learned President, Dr. Ayrton Paris. Dr. Gisborne was
called in to attend Gray in his last illness. He died February
24, 1806.— [Afit.]

1 This hideous little work is still preserved in the Master's
Lodge at Pembroke College ; it has very little value even as a
portrait, but the pencil-sketch for it, for which Gray sat to
Mason, has been deemed of sufficient interest to be engraved as
the frontispiece to the present volume. — [Ed.]

2 Sir William Peers Williams, C.B., a Captain in Burgoyne's
Dragoons. He fell at Bellioch, June 13, 1761, and at the in
stigation of the Montagus Gray composed an elegy on him, —
[Ed.]

LETTERS. 69

some of Brest, and others of Calais. It is sure the
preparations are great, but the wind blows violently.

Here is a second edition of the Fragments, with a
new and fine one added to them. You will perhaps
soon see a very serious Elegy (but this is a secret) on
the death of my Lady Coventry. Watch for it.

If I had been aware Mr. Mapletoft1 was in town
I should have returned him the two guineas I have
of his. Neither Osborn nor Bathurst know when
the book will come out. I will therefore pay it to
any one he pleases.

Adieu, dear sir, I am ever yours, T. G.

I did not mean to carry away your paper of the two
pictures at Were Park; 2 but I find I have got it here.

XXV. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

October 25, 1760.

DEAR SIR — You will wonder at another letter so
soon ; it is only to tell you what you will probably
hear before this letter reaches you.

The King is dead. He rose this morning about
six (his usual early hour) in perfect health, and had
his chocolate between seven and eight. An unac
countable noise was heard in his chamber ; they ran
in, and found him lying on the floor. He was directly

1 Probably John Mapletoft, of Pembroke College, A.M.
1764, took a Wrangler's degree in 1752 ; one below that of
(Bishop) Porteus.— [Mit.]

2 Ware Park, near Hertford.

70 LETTERS.

bled, and a few drops came from him, but he instantly
expired.

This event happens at an unlucky time, but (I
should think) will make little alteration in public
measures.

I am rather glad of the alteration with regard to
Chambers, for a reason which you will guess at.

My service to Pa.1 I will write to him soon, and
long to see his manuscripts, and blue books, and
precipices. Adieu. — I am yours, T. G.

XXVI. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

London, November 8, 1760.

DEAR SIR — You will excuse me if I write you a little
news in this busy time, though I have nothing else
to write. The ladies are rejoiced to hear they may
probably have a marriage before the coronation, which
will restore to that pomp all the beauties it would
otherwise have lost. I hear (but this is sub sigillo)
no very extraordinary account of the Princess of
Saxe Gotha. Mason walks in the same procession,
and, as you possibly may see him the next day, he
will give you the best account of it. You have heard,
I suppose, that there are two wills (not duplicates).
He had given to the Duke of Cumberland all his
jewels, but at the last going to Hanover had taken
with him all the best of them, and made them crown

1 Rev. William Palgrave ; in allusion to the manuscript
diaries kept during his travels. He died in 1799.

LETTERS. 71

jewels, so that they come to the successor. He had
also given the Duke three millions of rixdollars in
money ; but in the last will (made since the affair at
Closter Seven), after an apology to him, as the best
son that ever lived, and one that has never offended
him, declares that the expenses of the war have con
sumed all this money. He gives him (and had before
done so by a deed of gift) all his mortgages in Ger
many, valued at £170,000; but the French are in
possession of part of these lands, and the rest are
devoured by the war. He gives to Princesses Emily
and Mary about £37,000 between them, the survivor
to take the whole. I have heard that the Duke was
to have a third of this, but has given up his share to
his sisters. To Lady Yarmouth a box, which is said
to have in it £10,000 in notes. The K. is residuary
legatee ; what that amounts to no one will know, and
consequently it must remain a doubt whether he died
rich or poor. I incline to believe rather the latter ;
I mean in comparison of what was expected.

The Bishop1 is the most assiduous of courtiers,
standing for ever upright in the midst of a thousand
ladies. The other day he trod on the toes of the
Duke, who turned to him (for he made no sort of
excuse), and said aloud, " If your Grace is so eager to
make your court, that is the way" (pointing towards
the king) ; and then to the Count de Fuentes, " You
see priests are the same in this country as in yours."

1 The name of the bishop is erased iii the MS., but Seeker
is meant.— [Mit.]

72 LETTERS.

Mr. E. Finch (your representative) has got the
place that Sir H. E. (my friend) had — surveyor, I
think, of the roads, which is about £600 a-year.1
What then (you will ask) has become of my friend ?
Oh, he is a vast favourite, is restored to his regiment,
and made Groom of the Bedchamber. I have not
been to see him yet, and am half afraid, for I hear he
has a levee. Pray don't tell.

Lord J. C. is fixed to come at his time in spite of
the world. I hear within the year you may expect
a visit from his Majesty in person.

When the Duke of Devonshire introduced my
lord mayor, he desired his grace would be so kind to
tell him which was my Lord Boot. This must not be
told at all, nor anything else as from me. Adieu.

XXVII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

London, at Mr. Jauncey's, not Jenour's,
December 10, 1760.

DEAR MASON — It is not good to give copies of a thing
before you have given it the last hand.2 If you would
send it to Lord Hfoldernesse] you might have spared

1 Mr. Finch was Member for Cambridge, and his prede
cessor as surveyor of the king's roads was Sir Henry Erskine.
It was Sir Henry Erskine who made the unsuccessful application
to Lord Bute for the place of Professor of Modern Languages
in favour of Gray in 1762.— [Mit.]

2 The Elegy on Lady Coventry.

LETTERS. 73

that to Lady M. C.;1 they have both shewed it to
particular friends, and so it is half published before it
is finished. I begin again from the beginning : —

"Ah, mark," is rather languid. I would read
« Heard ye."

V. 3. I read, "and now with rising knell," to
avoid two " the's."

V. 10. I read, "since now that bloom," etc.

V. 11, 12, are altered for the better, and so are
the following; but for "liquid lightning," Lord J.
Cavendish says there is a dram which goes by that
name ; and T. G adds, that the words are stolen from
a sonnet of the late Prince of Wales.2 What if we
read "liquid radiance," and change the word "radiant"
soon after.

V. 18. Read, " that o'er her form," etc.

V. 23. "Cease, cease, luxuriant muse." Though
mended, it is still weakly. I do not much care for
any muse at all here.

V. 26. "Mould'ring" is better than "clay-cold;"
somewhat else might be better perhaps than either.

V. 35. "Whirl you in her wild career." This
image does not come in so well here between two
real happinesses. The word " lead " before it, as
there is no epithet left to "purple," is a little faint.

1 Lady Mary Coke, fourth daughter of John Duke of Argyll,
married Edward Viscount Coke 1747, heir-apparent of Thomas
Earl of Leicester, who died in his father's lifetime.

2 Gray alludes to the song written by Frederick Prince of
Wales, called " The Charms of Sylvia. " But the Royal phrase,
in the insipid lines themselves, is " liquid brightness." — [Ed.]

74 LETTERS.

" Of her choicest stores an ampler share," seems to
me prosaic.

"Zenith -height" is harsh to the ear and too
scientific.

I take it the interrogation point comes after
"fresh delight;" and there the sense ends. If so,
the question is too long in asking, and leaves a sort
of obscurity.

V. 46. I understand, but cannot read, this line.
Does " tho' soon " belong to " lead her hence," or to
"the steps were slow1?" I take it to the latter; and
if so, it is hardly grammar ; if to the former, the end
of the line appears very naked without it.

V. 55. "Rouse, then — his voice pursue." I do
not like this broken line.

V. 74. "Firm as the sons," that is, "as firmly
as." The adjective used for the adverb here gives
it some obscurity, and has the appearance of a contra
diction.

V. 76. A less metaphorical line would become this
place better.

V. 80. This, though a good line, would be better
too if it were more simple, for the same figure is
amplified in the following stanza, and there is no
occasion for anticipating it here.

V. 85. "And why?" I do not understand. You
mean, I imagine, that the warrior must not expect to
establish his fame as a hero while he is yet alive;
but how does "living fame" signify this? The con
struction too, is not good ; if you mean, with regard

LETTERS. 75

to Fame, while he yet lives, Fate denies him that.
The next line is a bold expression of Shakespeare.
The third, " ere from her trump — heaven breathed,"
is not good.

Y. 89. "Is it the grasp?" You will call me a cox
comb if I remind you, that this stanza in the turn of
it is too like a stanza of " another body's."

V. 98. " Truth ne'er can sanctify," is an indifferent
line. Both Mr. Brown and I have some doubt about
the justness of this sentiment. A kingdom is pur
chased, we think, too dear with the life of any man ;
and this no less if there " be a life hereafter " than if
there be none.

V. 102. We say the juice of the grape " mantles,"
but not the grape.

V. 107. "By earth's poor pittance;" will not do;
the end is very well, but the whole is rather too
long, and I would wish it reduced a little in the
latter part.

I am sorry you went so soon out of town, because
you lost your share in his Majesty's reproof to his
chaplains : "I desire those gentlemen may be told
that I come here to praise God, and not to hear my
own praises." Kitt Wilson1 was, I think, the per-

1 Dr. Christopher Wilson, of Catharine Hall, Cambridge,
M.A. 1740, Rector of Fulham and of Halsted, Essex, Canon
of St. Paul's, Bishop of Bristol in 1783, died April 1792, aged
77. "He died extremely rich, having, as Prebendary of Fins-
bury, made a most fortunate and lucrative contract for a lease
with the City of London ; " for when he came in possession of
it, it brought in only a life-interest of £39 : 13 : 4; and from it

76 LETTERS.

son that had been preaching. This and another
thing I have been told give me great hopes of the
young man. Fobus was asking him what sum it
was his pleasure should be laid out on the next
election. "Nothing, my lord." The duke stared,
and said, "Sir!" "Nothing, I say, my lord; I desire
to be tried by my country."

There has been as great confusion this week as if
the French were landed. You see the heads of the
Tories are invited into the bedchamber; and Mr. P.
avows it to be his advice, not as to the particular
men, but the measure. Fobus knew nothing of it
till it was done; and has talked loudly for two days
of resigning. Lord Hardwick and his people say
they will support the Whig interest, as if all was
going to ruin, and they hoped to raise a party. What
will come of it is doubtful, but I fancy they will
acquiesce and stay in as long as they can. Great
confusion in the army too, about Lord Fitzmaurice,1
who is put over the head of Lord Lennox, Mr. Fitz-
roy, and also of almost all the American officers.

I have seen Mr. Southwell,2 and approve him

he received £50,000 in his lifetime, and charged his estate with
£50,000 more in his will. — [Alit.]

1 William Viscount Fitzmaurice, promoted to the rank of
Colonel, December 4, 1760. He became a Major-General, July
10, 1762 ; Lieutenant-General, May 25, 1772 ; General, February
19, 1783 ; and died senior of that rank in May 1805, without
having ever commanded a regiment. Created Marquess of Lans-
downe, November 30, 1784.— [Alit.]

2 Mr. Henry Southwell was A. B. 1 752, of Magdalen College ;
A.M. 1755; LL.D. 1763.— [

LETTERS. 77

much. He has many new tastes and knowledges,
and is no more a coxcomb than when he went
from hence. I am glad to hear you bode so well
of Ponsonby and his tutor. Here is a delightful
new woman1 in the burlettas; the rest is all Bar
tholomew and his fair. Elisi2 has been ill ever
since he came, and has not sung yet. Adieu. — I am
truly yours.

XXVIII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

London, January 22, 1761.

DEAR MASON — I am delighted with Frederic Hervey
and letter, and envy you his friendship, for the
foundation of it (I am persuaded) was pure friend
ship as far as his idea of the thing extended ; and
if one could see his little heart one should find no
vanity there for over-reaching you and artfully gild
ing so dirty a pile, but only a degree of self-applause
for having done one of the genteelest and hand
somest things in the world. I long to see the
originals and (if you have any gratitude) you will
publish them in your first volume. Alas ! there was
a time when he was my friend, and there was a time
(he owned) when he had been my greatest enemy ;
why did I lose both one and the other of these ad-

1 This was Signora Paganini the wife of Paganini, a coarse
man. She appeared in 1760.— [Mit]

2 A man of great reputation and abilities ; performed at the
Opera in London 1760 and 1761. A great singer and eminent
actor.— [Mil.}

78

LETTERS.

vantages when at present I could be so happy with
either, I care not which ? Tell him he may take his
choice ; it is not from interest I say this, though I
know he will some time or other be Earl of Bristol,
but purely because I have long been without a knave
and fool of my own. Here is a bishopric (St. David's)
vacant, can I anyhow serve him ? I hear Dr. Ays-
cough1 and Dean Squire2 are his competitors. God
knows who will go to Ireland ; it ought to be some
body, for there is a prodigious to-do there; the
cause I have been told, but, as I did not understand
or attend to it, no wonder if I forgot it ; it is some
what about a money- till, perhaps you may know.
The Lords Justices absolutely refuse to comply with
what the Government here do insist upon, and even
offer to resign their posts ; in the meantime none of
the pensions on that establishment are paid. . Never
theless two such pensions have been bestowed within
this few weeks, one on your friend Mrs. Anne Pitt
(of ,£500 a year), which she asked, and Lord B.3 got
it done immediately; she keeps her place with it:
the other (of £400) to Lady Harry Beauclerk,4 whose
husband died suddenly, and left her with six or seven
children very poorly provided for ; the grant was

1 Francis Ayscough, chaplain and preceptor to the Prince of
Wales, rector of North Church, Herts, Dean of Bristol, author
of Sermons, etc., married the sister of Lord Lyttelton. — [Mit.]

2 In 1761 Samuel Squire, Dean of Bristol, was appointed to
the bishopric of St. David's.

3 Earl of Bute.

4 Lord Harry Beauclerk died July 8, 1761.

LETTERS. 79

sent her without being asked at all by herself or
any friend. I have done with my news, because I
am told that there is an express just set out for
Yorkshire, whom you are to meet on the road. I
hope you will not fail to inform him who is to be
his First Chaplain ; perhaps you will think it a piece
of treachery to do so, or perhaps you will leave the
thing to itself, in order to make an experiment.

I cannot pity you ; au contraire, I wish I had been
at Aston when I was foolish enough to go through
the six volumes of the Nomelle Heloise. All that I
can say for myself is, that I was confined at home for
three weeks by a severe cold, and had nothing better
to do. There is no one event in it that might not
happen any day of the week (separately taken), in
any private family : yet these events are so put
together that the series of them are more absurd and
more improbable than Amadis de Gaul. The dramatis
persona (as the author says) are all of them good char
acters ; I am sorry to hear it, for had they been all
hanged at the end of the third volume nobody (I
believe) would have cared. In short, I went on and
on in hopes of finding some wonderful denouement
that would set all right, and bring something like
nature and interest out of absurdity and insipidity ;
no such thing, it grows worse and worse, and (if it
be Rousseau, which is not doubted) is the strongest
instance I ever saw that a very extraordinary man
may entirely mistake his own talents.1 By the motto

1 On this disparaging character of Rousseau's great work,

80

LETTERS.

and preface it appears to be his own story, or some
thing similar to it.

The Opera House is crowded this year like any
ordinary theatre. Elisi is finer than anything that
has been here in your memory, yet, as I suspect, has
been finer than he is. He appears to be near forty,
a little pot-bellied and thick-shouldered, otherwise no
bad figure; his action proper, and not ungraceful.
We have heard nothing, since I remember operas,
but eternal passages, divisions, and flights of execu
tion ; of these he has absolutely none, whether merely
from judgment, or a little from age, I will not affirm.
His point is expression, and to that all the graces and
ornaments he inserts (which are few and short), are
evidently directed. He goes higher (they say) than
Farinelli, but then this celestial note you do not hear
above once in a whole opera, and he falls from this
altitude at once to the mellowest, softest, strongest
tones (about the middle of his compass) that can be
heard. The Mattei1 (I assure you) is much improved
by his example, and by her great success this winter.
But then the Burlettas and the Paganina. I have

Walter Savage Landor says, in his De Oultu Latini Sermonis : —
" Rossceo nee in senteutiis ipse suavior est (qui parum profecto
praeter suavitatem habet) Isocrates, nee in verbis uberior aut
amplioris in dicendo dignitatis Plato, nee Sophronisci filius
melior sophista. Nemo animi affectus profundius introspexit,
delicatius tetigit, solertius explicavit. Odium vero hominuin
quos insinceros Grains aut pravos existiniabat, aut religionis
Christianorum inimicos, transversum egit et prseceps judicium."
1 Colomba Mattei, a charming singer and intelligent actress,
and a very great favourite. — [Mit.]

LETTERS. 81

not been so pleased with anything these many j'ears ;
she too is fat and about forty, yet handsome withal,
and has a face that speaks the language of all nations.
She has not the invention, the fire, and the variety of
action, that the Spiletta had;1 yet she is light, agile,
ever in motion, and above all graceful ; but then her
voice, her ear, her taste in singing : Good God ! — as
Mr. Richardson the painter2 says. Pray ask my
Lord, for I think I have seen him there once or
twice, as much pleased as I was.

I have long thought of reading Jeremy Taylor, for
I am persuaded that chopping logic in the pulpit, as
our divines have done ever since the Eevolution, is
not the thing ; but that imagination and warmth of
expression are in their place there as much as on the
stage, moderated however, and chastised a little by
the purity and severity of religion.

I send you my receipt for caviches (Heaven knows

1 The part of Spiletta in Gli Amante Gelosi : a burletta by
Cocchi.— [Mit.]

2 Jonathan Richardson the elder (1665-1745), to whom Gray
sat about 1729 for the portrait now in the Fitzwilliam Museum.
He was a critic of art, and Dr. Johnson, not a very good judge,
preferred his books to his pictures. — [Ed.]

3 Gray's copy of Verral's Book of Cookery, 8vo., 1759, is
in my possession, and is enriched by numerous notes in his
writing, with his usual minute diligence, and remarks on culi
nary subjects, arranging the subjects of gastronomy in scientific
order. 1st. List of furniture necessary for a kitchen, which he
classes under twelve heads. 2dly. List of such receipts as are
primarily necessary in forming essential ingredients for others,
all accurately indexed to their respective pages. 3dly. Five
pages of receipts for various dishes, with the names of the

VOL. TIT. G

82 LETTERS.

against my conscience). Pray, doctor, will the weak
ness of one's appetite justify the use of provocatives 1
In a few years (I suppose) you will desire my receipt
for tincture of cantharides ? I do this the more un
willingly, because I am sensible that any man is rich
enough to be an epicure when he has nobody to
entertain but himself. Adieu, I am, hjamais, yours.

XXIX. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Pembroke College, January 1761.

DEAR DOCTOR — The best piece of news I have to
send you is, that Mason is Eesidentiary of York,
which is worth near £200 a year. He owes it to our
friend Mr. F. Montagu, who is Brother-in-Law to Dean
Fountayne. The Precentorship (worth as much more)
being vacant at the same time, Lord Holdernesse has
obtained that too for him. But for this, he must
come and kiss hands ; and as the ceremony is not
yet over, we do not proclaim it aloud for the pre
sent. He now (I think) may wait for Mr. Button's
exit with great patience, and shut his insatiable

inventors. The one referred to in this letter is as follows : —
"CAVICHE. (From Lord De.) Take three cloves, four scruples
of coriander -seeds bruised, ginger powdered, and saffron, of
each half a scruple, three cloves of garlic ; infuse them in a
pint of good white wine vinegar, and place the bottle in a
gentle heat, or in water, to warm gradually. It is to be used
as catchup, etc., in small quantity, as a sauce for cold meats,
etc. etc."— [Mit.]

LETTERS. 83

repining mouth. I hope to see him here in his way
to town.

I pity your brother, and have little hope left of
his wife's recovery: though I have been told that
Dr. Lowth's, after she had continued for some years
in that condition, was perfectly restored. It may be
worth while to enquire in what method she was
treated. The papers were to have been sent to
Boswell Court the week after I left London to be
seen before they were packed up. Mr. Jonathan is
perhaps unable to attend to it, but doubtless you
have ordered somebody to hasten Bromwick, and see
that the sorts are right. I shall not be at London till
the middle of March. My old friend Miss Speed has
done what the world calls a very foolish thing. She
has married the Baron de la Peyriere, son to the
Sardinian Minister, the Comte de Viry. He is about
28 years old (ten years younger than herself), but
looks nearer 40. This is not the effect of debauchery,
for he is a very sober man; good natured, and honest,
and no conjurer. The estate of the family is about
£4000 a year. The Castle of Viry is in Savoy a few
miles from Geneva, commanding a fine view of the
Lake. What she has done with her money, I know
not : but (I suspect) kept it to herself. Her religion
she need not change, but she must never expect to be
well received at that court, till she does ; and I do
not think she will make quite a Julie in the country.

The Heldise cruelly disappointed me, but it has its
partisans, among which are Mason and Mr. Hurd.

84 LETTERS.

For me, I admire nothing but "Fingal"1 (I conclude
you have read it : if not Stonehewer can lend it you),
yet I remain still in doubt about the authenticity of
those poems, though inclining rather to believe them
genuine in spite of the world. Whether they are
the inventions of antiquity, or of a modern Scotch
man, either case is to me alike unaccountable. Je
m'y pers.

I take no joy in the Spanish war, being too old to
privateer, and too poor to buy stock ; nor do I hope
for a good end of any war, as it will be now probably
conducted. Oh that foolishest2 of great men, that
sold his inestimable diamond for a paltry peerage
and pension : the very night it happened was I

1 In a letter to another friend, informing him that he had
sent " Fingal " down to him, he says : " For my part I will stick
to my credulity, and if I am cheated, think it is worse for"
him (the translator), than for me. The Epic Poem is foolishly
so called, yet there is a sort of plan and unity in it very strange
for a barbarous age ; yet what I more admire are some of the
detached pieces — the rest I leave to the discussion of anti
quarians and historians ; yet my curiosity is much interested in
their decision." No man surely ever took more pains with
himself to believe anything, than Mr. Gray seems to have done
on this occasion. — [Mason.]

2 Mr. Pitt. " As I cannot put Mr. Pitt to death " (says Mr.
Walpole in a letter to Mr. Conway) " at least I have buried him.
Here is- his epitaph :

" ' Admire his eloquence.— It mounted higher
Than Attic purity, or Roman fire.
Adore his services — our lions view,
Ranging where Roman eagles never flew ;
Copy his soul supreme o'er Lucre's sphere
—But oh ! beware Three Thousand Pounds a year ! ' "

[Hit.}

LETTEES. 85

swearing, it was a damned lie, and never could be :
but it was for want of reading Thomas a Kempis,
who knew mankind so much better, than I.

Young Pitt (whom I believe you have heard me
mention) is returned to England : from him I hope
to get much information concerning Spain, which
nobody has seen: he is no bad observer. I saw a
man yesterday, who has been a- top of Mount ./Etna,
and seen the ruins of a temple at Agrigentum, 'whose
columns (when standing) were 96 feet in height : a
moderate man might hide himself in one of the flut-
ings. By the way there is a Mr. Phelps (now gone
secretary with the embassy to Turin) who has been
all over Sicily, and means to give us an account of
its remains. There are two more volumes of Buffon
(the 9th and 10th) arrived in England ; and the two
last maps of D'Anville's Europe. One Mr. Needham,
tutor to a Lord Gormanstown now on his travels, has
made a strange discovery. He saw a figure of Isis at
Turin, on whose back was a pilaster of antique char
acters, not hieroglyphics, but such as are sometimes
seen on Egyptian statues. When he came to Rome,
in the Vatican Library he was shewed a glossary of
the ancient Chinese tongue. He was struck with the
similitude of the characters, and on comparing them
with an exact copy he had of the inscription, found
that he could read it, and that it signified — (This
statue of Isis is copied from another, in such a city :
the original is, so many measures in height, and so
many in breadth.) — If this be true, it may open many

86 LETTERS.

new things to us. Deguignes some time ago wrote
a dissertation to prove, that China was peopled from
Egypt.

I still flatter myself with the notion of seeing you
in summer : but God knows, how it will be. I am per
suading Mr. Brown to make a visit to Lady Strathmore
(who has often invited him) and then you will see him
too : he is at present not very well, having something
of the sciatica, which hangs about him. Present my
best services to Mrs. Wharton.— I am ever truly
yours, T. G.

?. — The Queen is said here to be ill, and to spit
blood. She is not with child, I am afraid.

XXX.— TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — When I received your letter I was
still detained in town : but am now at last got to
Cambridge. I applied immediately to Dr. Ashton
(who was nearest at hand) for information as to the
expenses of Eton without naming any one's name.
He returned me the civilest of answers, and that if the
boy was to be on the foundation, I had no more to
do but send him to him, and the business should be
done. As to the charges, he was going to Eton, and
would send me an account from thence; which he
did accordingly on Sunday last, and here it is en
closed with his second letter. You will easily conceive,
that there must be additional expenses, that can

LETTERS. 87

be reduced to no rules, as pocket-money, clothes,
b(K)ks, etc., and which are left to a father's own
discretion.

My notion is, that your nephew being an only son,
and rather of a delicate constitution, ought not to be
exposed to the hardships of the college. I know, that
the expense in that way is much lessened ; but your
brother has but one son, and can afford to breed him
an oppidant. I know, that a colleger is sooner formed
to scuffle in the world, that is, by drubbing and
tyranny is made more hardy or more cunning, but
these in my eyes are no such desirable acquisitions :
I know too, that a certain (or very probable) provision
for life is a thing to be wished : but you must remem
ber, what a thing a fellow of King's is, in short you
will judge for yourselves. If you accept my good
friend's offer, I will proceed accordingly : if not, we
will thank him, and willingly let him recommend to
us a cheap boarding-house, not disdaining his protec
tion and encouragement, if it can be of any little use
to your nephew. He has married one of Amyand's
sisters with £12,000 (I suppose, you know her; she
is an enchanting object !), and he is settled in the
preachership of Lincoln's Inn.

Sure Mr. Jonathan, or some one has told you, how
your good friend, Mr. L. has been horse -whipped,
trampled, bruised, and p d upon, by a Mrs. Mac
kenzie, a sturdy Scotch woman. It was done in an
inn-yard at Hampstead in the face of day, and he has
put her in the Crown Office. It is very true. I will

88 LETTEES.

not delay this letter to tell you any more stories.
Adieu ! — I am ever yours, T. G.

Pembroke Hall, January 23, 1761.

Mr. Brown (the petit lon-lwmme) joins his com
pliments to mine, and presents them to you and Mrs.
Wharton. I have been dreadfully disappointed in
Rousseau's Heldise : but Mason admires it.

XXXI.— TO THOMAS WHARTON.

London, January 31, I/ 51.

MY DEAR DOCTOR — You seem to forget me : if it
were for any other reason, than that you are very
busy, that is, very happy, I should not so easily pass
it over. I send you a Swedish and English Calendar.
The first column is by Berger, a disciple of Linnaeus ;
the second, by Mr. Stillingfleet, the third (very im
perfect indeed) by me. You are to observe, as you
tend your plantations and take your walks, how the
spring advances in the North ; and whether Old Park
most resembles Upsal, or Stratton. This latter has
on one side a barren black heath, on the other a light
sandy loam ; all the country about it is a dead flat.
You see, it is necessary you should know the situation
(I do not mean any reflection upon anybody's place)
and this is Mr. Stillingfleet's description of his friend
Mr. Marsham's seat, to which in Summer he retires,
and botanises. I have lately made an acquaintance

LETTERS. 89

with this philosopher, who lives in a garret here in
the Winter, that he may support some near relations,
who depend upon him. He is always employed, and
always cheerful, and seems to me a very worthy
honest man. His present scheme is to send some
persons properly qualified to reside a year or two in
Attica to make themselves acquainted with the
climate, productions, and natural history of the
country, that we may understand Aristotle and
Theophrastus, etc., who have been heathen Greek to
us for so many ages. This he has got proposed to
Lord Bute, who is no unlikely person to put it in
execution, being himself a botanist, and having now
in the press a new system of botany of his own writing
in several volumes, the profits of which he gives to
Dr. Hill (the inspector) who has got the place of
master gardener at Kensington, reckoned worth near
£2000 a year. There is an odd thing for you.

One hears nothing of the Kingx but what gives one
the best opinion of him imaginable. I hope, it may
hold. The Koyal Family run loose about the world,
and people do not know how to treat them, nor they
how to be treated. They visit and are visited : some
come to the street-door to receive them, and that,
they say, is too much ; others to the head of the stairs,
and that they think too little. Nobody sits down
with them, not even in their own house, unless at a
card table, so the world are like to grow very weary
of the honour. None but the Duke of York enjoy
themselves (you know, he always did) but the world

90 LETTERS.

seems weary of this honour too, for a different reason.
I have just heard no bad story of him. When he was
at Southampton in the Summer, there was a Clergy
man in the neighbourhood with two very handsome
daughters. He had soon wind of them, and dropped
in for some reason or other, came again and again,
and grew familiar enough to eat a bone of their
mutton. At last he said to the father, Miss -
leads a mighty confined life here always at home, why
can't you let one of them go, and take an airing now
and then with me in my chaise ? Ah ! Sir (says the
Parson) do but look at them, a couple of hale fresh-
coloured hearty wenches ! They need no airing, they
are well enough; but there is their mother, poor
woman, has been in a declining way many years.
If your Koyal Highness would give her an airing now
and then, it would be doing us a great kindness
indeed !

You see, old Wortley Montagu is dead at last at
83. It was not mere Avarice, and its companion,
Abstinence, that kept him alive so long. He every
day drank (I think, it was) half a pint of Tokay,
which he imported himself from Hungary in greater
quantity than he could use, and sold the overplus for
any price he chose to set upon it. He has left
better than half a million of money : to Lady Mary
XI 200 a year, in case she gives up her pretensions to
dowry ; and if not, it comes to his son. To the same
son £1000 per annum for life only, and after him to
his daughter, Lady Bute. (Now this son is about

LETTERS. 91

£80,000 in debt.) To all Lady Bute's children, which
are eleven, £2000 a-piece. All the remainder to Lady
Bute, and after her to her second son, who takes the
name of Wortley, and (if he fail) to the next in order;
and after all these and their children to Lord Sand
wich, to whom in present he leaves some old manu
scripts. Now I must tell you a story of Lady Mary.
As she was on her travels, she had occasion to go
somewhere by sea, and (to save charges) got a passage
on board a man of war : the ship was (I- think) Com
modore Barnet's. When he had landed her, she told
him, she knew she was not to offer to pay for her
passage, but in consideration of his many civilities
intreated him to wear a ring for her sake, and pressed
him to accept it, which he did. It was an emerald
of remarkable size and beauty. Some time after, as
he wore it, some friend was admiring it, and asking
how he came by it. When he heard from whom
it came, he laughed and desired him to shew it
to a jeweller, whom he knew. The man was sent
for. He unset it; it was a paste not worth forty
shillings.

The ministry are much out of joint. Mr. Pitt
much out of humour, his popularity tottering, chiefly
occasioned by a pamphlet against the German war,
written by that squeaking acquaintance of ours, Mr.
Manduit : it has had a vast run. The Irish are very
intractable, even the Lord J.'s themselves ; great
difficulties about who shall be sent over to tame
them : my Lord Hsse- again named, but (I am told)

92 LETTERS.

has refused it. Everybody waits for a new Parlia
ment to settle their ideas.

I have had no gout, since you went : I will not
brag, lest it return with redoubled violence. I am
very foolish, and do nothing to mark, that I ever was :
I am going to Cambridge to take the fresh air this
fine winter for a month or so. We have had snow
one day this winter, but it did not lie : it was several
months ago. The 18th of January I took a walk to
Kentish Town, wind N. W. bright and frosty. Ther
mometer, at noon, was at 42. The grass remarkably
green and flourishing. I observed, on dry banks
facing the south that Chickweed, Dandelion, Ground
sel, Red Archangel, and Shepherd's Purse were ba-
ginning to flower. This is all I know of the country.

My best compliments to Mrs. Wharton. I hear
her butter is the best in the bishoprick, and that
even Deborah has learned to spin. I rejoice you are
all in health, but why are you deaf : and blind too,
or you could not vote for F. V I have abundance
more to say, but my paper won't hear of it Adieu !

1755.

UPSAL STRATTON

IN SWEDEN, IN NORFOLK, CAMBRIDGE.

lat. 59° 51J" lat. 52° 45"

Hasel begins to f. . . 12 April . 23 Jan.

Snow-drop F. . .13 April . 26 Jan. . 4 Feb.
(White Wagtail) )

appearg . 13 April . 12 Feb.. . 3 Feb.

Violets F. . . .3 May ^ . 28 Mar. \ . 28 Mar.

Snow-drop goes off . I . .

Apricot f J.I April ) .

LETTERS.

93

UPSAL

STKATTON

IK SWEDEN,

IK NORFOLK, CA:

MBE1IX3E.

lat. 59° 51 i"

lat. 52° 45"

Elm F. .

. 8 May

. 1 April

(Swallow returns) .

. 9 May

. 6 April

(Cuckoo heard)

. 12 May

. 17 April

(Nightingale sings) .

. 15 May

. 9 April

Birch L.

. 13 May

. 1 April

Alder L.

. 14 May

. 7 April

Bramble L.

. 7 May

. 3 April

ElmL. .

. 15 May

. 10 April

16 April

Hawthorn L. .

. 15 May

.

10 April

Acacia L.

. 15 May

. 12 April

Lime L. .

. 21 May

. 12 April

16 April

Aspen L.

. 20 May

. 26 April

Sycamore L. .

.

. 13 April

White Poplar L.

.

. 17 April

Beech L.

21 April

Chesn. and Maple L.

.

. 18 April

18 April

OakL. .

. 20 May

. 18 April

18 April

Ash L. .

. 21 May

. 22 April

FigL. .

.

. 21 April

24 April

Horse Chesnut F. .

.

. 12 May .

12 May

Mulberry L.

.

. 14 May .

Crab and Apple f.

. 2 June

. 23 April

22 April

Cherry f.

. 28 May

. 18 April

17 April

Lilac f. .

8 June

. 27 April

24 April

Hawthorn f. .

. 17 June

. 10 May .

12 May

Plumb tree f. .

. 28 May

. 16 April

Tillv n' tliA Vallpv f

QA Mav

3 Mav

J-jll J V O I/lit? Y tlllt > 1.

. O \J JJL Or J

-»i tt \ . •

Broom F.

. 24 April

Mulberry L.

. 14 May .

Elder f. .

. 29 June

. 25 April

Lady Smock f.

. 28 May

. 18 April

Ppa. and T^pan f

OQ Anril

Zed till' I JDcdll 1. •

• '

• *-i/ -iV|M 11

Strawberries ripe

. 26 June

. 9 July .

16 June

Cherries .

. 7 July

. (on walls)

25 June

Currants .

. 9 July

. 30 June .

4 July

Hay cut .

. 7 July

(near London)

18 May

94

LETTERS.

TTPSAL
IN SWEDEN,

lat. 59° 51i"

STRATTON
IN NORFOLK, CAMBRIDGE.

lat. 52° 45"

4 Aug. . . (at Stoke) 19 June
. 21 Aug. (latest) 15 Sept.

16 Aug. . 3 Aug. .

15 July . End of July

17 Sept. . 21 Sept. .

4 Sept.
28 Sept.

Rye

Wheat .
Barley .
(Cuckoo silent)
(Swallow gone)
Birch, Elm, Sycamore,
Lime, change colour
Ash drops its leaves
Elm stripped .
Lime falls
Hasel stripped.

2f,B. — I. stands for opening its leaves. L. for in full leaf.
/. for beginning to flower. F. for full bloom.

22 Sept.

6 Oct.

7 Oct.
12 Oct.
17 Oct.

14 Sept.
9 Oct.

5 Oct.

The summer flowers, especially such as blow about
the solstice, I take no notice of, as they blow at the
same time in Sweden and in England, at least the
difference is only a day or two.

Observe, from this calendar it appears, that there
is a wonderful difference between the earlier phae-
nomena of the spring in Sweden and in England,
no less than 78 days in the flowering of the Snow
drop, 61 days in the appearance of the Wagtail, 62
days in the bloom of the Lilac, 43 days in the leafing
of the Oak, 40 days in the blooming of the Cherry-
tree, 36 days in the singing of the Nightingale, 33
in the return of the Swallow, 25 in that of the
Cuckoo, and so on. Yet the summer flowers nearly
keep time alike in both climates, the harvest differs
not a fortnight, some of the fruits only 9 days ; nay,
Strawberries come earlier there by 13 days, than with

LETTERS. 95

us. The Swallow stays with us only 4 days longer
than with them, and the Ash tree begins to lose
its leaves within 3 days of the same time. These
differences, and these uniformities I know not how
to account for.

Mr. Stillingfleet's calendar goes no farther than
October 26; but I observed, that on December 2,
many of our Eose-trees had put out new leaves, and
the Lauristine, Polyanthus, single yellow, and bloody
Wall-flowers, Cytisus, and scarlet Geraniums were
still in flower.

January 15, 1756. The Honeysuckles were in leaf,
and single Hepatica and Snow-drop in flower.

As to the noise of birds, Mr. Stillingfteet marks
their times thus in Norfolk.

4 Feb. Woodlark singing.
12 ,, Books pair.

16 ,, Thrush sings.

,, Chaffinch sings.

22 ,, Partridges pair.
2 March. Rooks build.

5 „ Ring Dove cooes.
14 April. Bittern bumps.
16 ,, Eedstart returns.
28 ,, Blackcap sings.

,, Whitethroat seen.

5 June. Goatsucker (or Fern -Owl), heard in the evening.
After the end of June most birds are silent for a
time, probably the moulting season; only the
Goldfinch, Yellow Hammer, and Crested Wren
are heard to chirp.

7 Aug. Nuthatch chatters.

14 ,, Stone Curlew whistles at night.

15 ,, Young Owls heard in the evening.

96 LETTERS.

17 Aug. Goatsucker no longer heard.

26 ,, Robins singing.

16 Sept. Chaffinch chirping.

25 ,, Woodlark sings, and Fieldfares arrive.

27 , , Blackbird sings.
29 Aug. Thrush sings.

2 Oct. Royston Crow comes.

10 ,, Woodlark in full song.

,, Ringdove cooes.

22 ,, "Woodcock returns.

24 ,, Skylark sings.

I add the order of several fruits ripening at Stoke
that year.

Hautboy-Strawberry 25 June

Wall Duke Cherry ,

Early Apricot . . . . . . . ,,

Black-heart Cherry ....... 2 July

Raspberry 4 July

Gooseberry . . . . . , . .15 July
Musculine Apricot ....... ,,

Black Fig 30 July

Muscle \

Orleans j- Plumb 18 Aug.

Green Gage )

Filbert ,

Nectarine \

Newington Peach j- . . . . . . .4 Sept.

Morella Cherry J
Mulberry )

Walnut I "fcP*-

Melon \

Burgamot Pear 25 Sept.

Black Muscad. Grape J

Nectarine over ...... .

White Muscad. Grape 12 Oct.

LETTERS. 97

XXXII. —TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke College, February 5, 1761.

DEAR MASON — When the belly is full, the bones are
at rest. You squat yourself down in the midst of
your revenues, leave me to suppose that somebody
has broke in upon the Dean before you, that Mr.
Beedon has seized upon the precentorship, that you
are laid up with a complication of distempers at
York, that you are dead of an apoplexy at Aston,
and all the disagreeable probabilities that use to
befall us, when we think ourselves at the height of
our wishes ; and then away you are gone to town
while I am daily expecting you here, and the first I
know of it is from the Gazette. Why, if you were
Bishop of Lincoln1 you could not serve one worse.

I wrote to you the same day I received your
letter, the llth January, and then to Dr. Wharton,
who sends you his congratulations to be delivered
in your way to London; here, take them, you
miserable precentor. I wish all your choir may
mutiny, and sing you to death. Adieu, I am ever
yours, T. G.

Commend me kindly to Montagu.

1 Dr. John Greene, Master of Ben'et College, first appointed
Bishop of Lincoln in 1761, which he held till his death in 1779

VOL. Ill,

98 LETTERS.

XXXIII. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

London, February 9, 1761.

DEAR SIR — If I have not sooner made answer to
your kind enquiries, it has been owing to the un
certainty I was under as to my own motions. Now
at last, I perceive, I must stay here till March and
part of April are over, so I have accommodated my
self to it; and perhaps it may be better to come
when your codlin hedge is in bloom, than at this
dull season. My cold, which Mr. Bickham told you
of, kept me at home above three weeks, being at
first accompanied with a slight fever, but at present
I am marvellous. Not a word of the gout yet ; but
do not say a word, if you do it will come. A
fortnight ago I had two sheets from Mr. Pitt, dated
Genoa, December 23 ; he had been thirty days in
going from Barcelona thither, a passage often made
in four. He spends the winter with Sir Richard
Lyttelton, and hopes to pass the end of the carnival
at Milan with Lord Strathmore, who has bee"n ill
at Turin, but is now quite recovered. He does not
speak with transport of Andalusia (I mean of the
country, for he describes only that in general, and
refers for particulars to our meeting) ; it wants
verdure and wood, and hands to cultivate it ; but
Valencia and Murcia (he says) are one continued
garden — a shady scene of cultivated lands, inter
spersed with cottages of reed, and watered by a

LETTERS. 99

thousand artificial rills. A like spirit of industry
appears in Catalonia. He has written to Pa. also; I
suppose to the same purpose.

The only remarkable thing I have to tell you is old
Wortley's will, and that, perhaps, you know already;
he died worth £600,000. This is the least I have
heard, and perhaps the truest ; but Lord J. and Mr.
Montagu tell me to-day it is above a million, and
that he had near £800,000 in mortgages only. He
gives to his son (who is £50,000 in debt) £1000 a-
year for life only. To his wife Lady Mary, if she
does not claim her dower, £1200 a-year, otherwise
this to go to his son for life, and after him to Lady
Bute his daughter. To all Lady Bute's children,
which are eleven, £2000 a-piece. To Lady Bute, for
her life, all the remainder (no notice of my Lord) ;
and after her, to her second son, who takes the
name of Wortley; and so to all the sons, and, I
believe, daughters, too in their order; and if they
all die without issue, to Lord Sandwich, to whom at
present he gives some old manuscripts about the
Montagu family.

And now I must tell you a little story about
— j1 which I heard lately. Upon her travels (to

1 Lady Mary Wortley Montague. There is a story told by
Mr. J. Pitt (Lord Camelford), which makes so good a pendant
to the present one, that I may be excused for giving it. "I
will find you a keepsake like that the Duchess of Kingston
drew from the bottom of her capote for the Consul at Genoa,
who had lodged her and clothed her I believe, and caressed
her for anything I know. ' How do you like this diamond

100 LETTERS.

save charges), she got a passage in the Mediterranean,
on board a man-of-war ; I think it was Commodore
Barnet. When he had landed her safe, she told him
she knew she was not to offer him money, but en
treated him to accept of a ring in memory of her,
which (as she pressed him) he accepted. It was a
very large emerald. Some time after, a friend of his
taking notice of its beauty, he told him how he came
by it. The man smiled, and desired him to shew it
to a jeweller. He did so ; it was unset before him,
and proved a paste t worth 40 shillings.

And now I am telling stories, I will tell you
another, nothing at all to the purpose, nor relating to
anybody I have been talking of.

In the year 1688, my Lord Peterborough had a
great mind to be well with Lady Sandwich, Mrs.
Bonfoy's old friend. There was a woman, who kept
a great coffee-house in Pall Mall, and she had a mir
aculous canary-bird, that piped twenty tunes. Lady
Sandwich was fond of such things, had heard of and
seen the bird. Lord Peterborough came to the woman
and offered her a large sum of money for it ; but she
was rich, and proud of it, and would not part with it
for love or money. However, he watched the bird

ring?' 'Very fine, my lady!' 'This ruby?' 'Beautiful!'
'This snuff-box?' 'Superb!' etc. etc. etc. 'Well, Mr.
Consul, you see these spectacles (and here she sighed) ; these
spectacles were worn twenty years by my dear Duke (here she
opened the etui, and dropped a tear) ; take them, Mr. Consul,
wear them for his sake and mine ; I could not give you a
stronger proof of my regard for you.' " — [Mit.]

LETTERS. 101

narrowly, observed all its marks and features, went
and bought just such another, sauntered into the
coffee-room, took his opportunity when no one was
by, slipped the wrong bird into the cage, and the
right into his pocket, and went off undiscovered to
make my Lady Sandwich happy. This was just about
the time of the Kevolution, and, a good while after,
going into the same coffee-house again, he saw his
bird there, and said, " Well, I reckon you would give
your ears now that you had taken my money."
" Money ! " says the woman, " no, nor ten times that
money now ; dear little creature ; for, if your Lord
ship will believe me (as I am a Christian it is true),
it has moped and moped, and never once opened its
pretty lips since the day that the poor king went
away ! "

Adieu. Old Pa. (spite of his misfortunes) talks of
coming to town this spring. Could not you come
too ? My service to Mr. Lyon.

XXXIV. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — I have been very naughty, I confess ;
but I informed your brother a good while ago, that
both your letters came safe to my hands. The first
indeed which went to Cambridge, had had its seal
broken, which naturally, I should have attributed to
the curiosity of somebody at Durham : but as Mr.
Brown (who, you know, is care itself) sent it me with
out taking notice of any such thing, I rather believe

102 LETTERS.

it was mere accident, and happened after it had
passed through his hands.

I long to see you, but my visit must be deferred
to another year, for Mr. Jauncey having lost his
bishop, and having settled his son in a curacy, means
to let his house entire, and in September I shall be
forced to look out for another place, and must have
the plague of removing. The Glass Manufacture in
Worcestershire (I am told) has failed. Mr. Price1
here has left off business, and retired into Wales.
The person, who succeeds him, does not pretend to
be acquainted with all the secrets of his art. The
man at York is now in town, exhibiting some speci
mens of his skill to the Society of Arts : him (you
say) you have already consulted. Coats of Arms
will doubtless be expensive (Price used to have five
guineas for a very plain one) figures much more
so. Unless therefore you can pick up some remnants
of old painted glass, which are, sometimes met with
in farm houses, little out-of-the-way churches and
vestries, and even at country glaziers shops, etc., I
should advise to buy plain coloured glass (for which
they ask here in St. Martin's Lane five shillings a
pound, but it is sold at York for two or three shillings)
and make up the tops of your windows in a mosaic
of your own fancy. The glass will come to you in

1 William Price (d. July 16, 1765) the most reputed glass
painter of his time, whose manufactory was in Kirby Street,
Hatton Garden. He worked at the windows in Westminster
Abbey from 1722 to 1735.— [Ed.]

LETTERS. 103

square plates (some part of which is always wrinkled
and full of little bubbles, so you must allow for waste),
any glazier can cut it into quarrels, and you can dis
pose the pattern and colours, red, blue, purple, and
yellow (there is also green, if you like it) as well, or
better than the artisan himself, and certainly much
cheaper. I would not border it with the same, lest
the room should be too dark. For should the quarrels
of clear glass be too small (in the lower part of the
window) ; if they are but turned corner-ways, it is
enough to give it a Gothic aspect. If there is any
thing to see (though it be but a tree) I should put
a very large diamond pane in the midst of each
division.

I had rather Major G. thro wed away his money
than somebody else. It is not worth while even to
succeed, unless gratis ; nor in any case to be attempted
without the bishop's absolute concurrence. I wish
you joy of Dr. Squire's bishoprick : he keeps both
his livings, and is the happiest of devils. Stonehewer,
who is coming, will (if you see him) tell you more
news viva voce, than I could write : I therefore do not
tap that chapter. My best services to Mrs. Wharton,
I am ever truly yours.
May 9, 1761.

I am at last going to Cambridge : it is strange else.

104 LETTERS.

XXXV.— TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

May 26, 1761.

DEAR SIR— I thank you for your kind enquiries and
impatience about me. Had I not been so often dis
appointed before, when I thought myself sure, I
should have informed you before this time of my
motions. I thought I was just setting out for Cam
bridge, when the man on whom I have a mortgage
gave me notice that he was ready to pay in his
money ; so that now I must necessarily stay to receive
it, and it will be (to be sure) the middle of June
before I can see Cambridge, where I have long wished
to be. Montagu had thoughts of going thither with
me, but I know not what his present intentions may
be. He is in real affliction for the loss of Sir W.
Williams, who has left him one of his executors, and
(as I doubt his affairs were a good deal embarrassed)
he possibly may be detained in town on that account.
Mason too talked of staying part of the summer
with me at Pembroke, but this may perhaps be only
talk. My Lord1 goes into Yorkshire this summer,
so I suppose the parson must go with him. You will
not see any advertisement till next winter at soonest.
Southwell is going to Ireland for two months, much
against his will. I have not seen my new Lady E.2
but her husband I have ; so (I'm afraid) I soon must

1 Lord Holdernesse.

2 By Lady E I have no doubt that Gray meant the wife

of his friend Sir Henry Erskine, who married this year. — [Mit.]

LETTERS. 105

have that honour. God send 1 may lie in just

about the commencement, or I go out of my wits, that
is all. The news of the surrender of Belleisle is daily
expected. They have not, nor (they say) possibly
can, throw in either men or provisions ; so it is looked
upon as ours. I know it will be so next week, be
cause I am then to buy into the Stocks. God bless
you. — I am ever yours, T. G.

XXXVI.— TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

1761.

DEAR SIR — I hope to send you the first intelligence
of the Church preferments, though such is your eager
ness there for this sort of news, that perhaps mine
may be stale before it can reach you. Drummond is
Archbishop of York, Hayter Bishop of London, Young
of Norwich, Newton of Bristol, with the residentiary-
ship of St. Paul's ; Thomas goes to Salisbury ; Greene,
of Ben'et, to Lincoln ; James Yorke succeeds to his
deanery.

As to the Queen, why you have all seen her.
What need I tell you that she is thin, and not tall,
fine, clear, light brown hair (not very light neither),
very white teeth, mouth , nose straight and well-
formed, turned up a little at the end, and nostril

1 Gray's inveterate dislike of the ' ' old fizzling Duke " of New
castle, "that owl Fobus," is by this time familiar to us. His
contempt here takes a singular form, but relates beyond ques
tion to this personage. — [Ed.]

106 LETTERS.

rather wide ; complexion little inclining to yellow,
but little colour ; dark and not large eyes, hand and
arm not perfect, very genteel motions, great spirits,
and much conversation. She speaks French very
currently. This is all I know, but do not cite me
for it.

Mason is come, but I have not seen him ; he walks
at the Coronation. I shall see the show, but whether
in the Hall, or only the Procession, I do not know
yet. It is believed places will be cheap. Adieu.

XXXVII. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — As you and Mr. E. Wharton seem
determined for the foundation, I shall say no more on
that subject : it is pity you could not resolve sooner,
for I fear you are now too late, and must defer your
design till the next year, as the election at Eton
begins this day se'nnight, and your nephew ought
to be there on the evening of the 27th at farthest,
which is scarce possible. You have never told me
his age: but (I suppose) you know, that after 15
complete boys are excluded from the election, and
that a certificate of their age (that is, an extract from
the Parish Eegister, where they were baptized), is
always required, which must be attested and signed
by the minister and churchwardens of the said parish.
Your nephew (I imagine) is much younger than fifteen,
and therefore there will be no great inconvenience if
he should be placed at Eton, whenever it suits Mr.

LETTERS. 10T

Wharton to carry him, and there wait for the next
election. This is commonly practised, and Dr. Ashton
(I do not doubt) will be equally ready to serve him
then, as now ; he will probably be placed pretty high
in the school, having had the same education, that is
in use there, and will have time to familiarize himself
to the place, before he actually enters the college.
I have waited to know your intentions, before I could
answer Dr. Ashton's letter ; and wish you would now
write to me, what you finally determine. There is a
month's breaking up immediately after the election
(which lasts a week) so it is probable Mr. Wharton
will hardly send his son till those holidays are over.

I do not mention the subject you hint at for the
same reason you give me; it should be offered, and
clear of all taxes, before I would go into it, in spite
of the Mines in America, on which I congratulate
you.

I shall hope to see Old Park next summer, if I
am not bed -rid, but who can telH Mr. Brown pre
sents his best services to the family with mine : he is
older than I. Adieu ! the Post waits. — I am ever
truly yours, T. G.

July 19 [endorsed 1761], Pembroke College.

108 LETTERS.

XXXVIII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

August 1761.

DEAR MASON — Be assured your York canon never
will die,1 so the better the thing is in value the worse
for you. The true way to immortality is to get you
nominated one's successor. Age and diseases vanish
at your name, fevers turn to radical heat, and fistulas
to issues. It is a judgment that waits on your insati
able avarice. You could not let the poor old man die
at his ease when he was about it ; and all his family,
I suppose, are cursing you for it.

I should think your motions, if you' are not per
verse, might be so contrived as to bring you hither
for a week or two in your way to the Coronation,
and then we may go together to town, where I must
be early in September. Do, and then I will help you
to write a ... sermon on this happy occasion. Our
friend Jeremy Bickham is going off to a living (better
than £400 a-year) somewhere in the neighbourhood
of Mr. Hurd ; and his old flame, that he has nursed
so many years, goes with him. I tell you this to
make you pine.

I wrote to Lord John on his recovery, and he
answers me very cheerfully, as if his illness had been
but slight, and the pleurisy were no more than a hole
in one's stocking. He got it, he says, not by scamper-

1 This was written at a time when, by the favour of Dr.
Fountayne, Dean of York, I expected to be made a Residentiary
in his cathedral. — [Mason.]

LETTERS. 109

ing, and racketing, and heating his blood, as I had
supposed, but by going with ladies to Vauxhall. He
is the picture (and pray so tell him if you see him)
of an old alderman that I knew, who, after living
forty years on the fat of the land (not milk and
honey, but arrack -punch and venison), and losing his
great toe with a mortification, said to the last that
he owed it to two grapes which he ate one day after
dinner. He felt them lie cold at his stomach the
minute they were down.

Mr. Montagu (as I guess at your instigation) has
earnestly desired me to write some lines to be put on
a monument, which he means to erect at Belleisle.
It is a task I do not love, knowing Sir W. Williams
so slightly as I did ; but he is so friendly a person,
and his affliction seemed to me so real, that I could
not refuse him. I have sent him the following
verses, which I neither like myself, nor will he, I
doubt: however, I have showed him that I wished
to oblige him. Tell me your real opinion : —

Here foremost in the dang'rous paths of fame,

Young Williams fought for England's fair renown ;
His mind each muse, each grace adorn'd his frame,

Nor envy dared to view him with a frown.
At Aix uncall'd his maiden sword he drew,

There first in blood his infant glory seal'd ;
From fortune, pleasure, science, love, he flew,

And scorn'd repose when Britain took the field.
With eyes of flame and cool intrepid breast,

Victor he stood on Belleisle's rocky steeps ;
Ah gallant youth ! this marble tells the rest,

Where melancholy friendship bends and weeps.

110 LETTERS.

Three words below to say who set up the monu
ment.

XXXIX. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — I am just come to town, where I
shall stay six weeks or more, and (if you will send
your dimensions) will look out for papers at the
shops. I own I never yet saw any Gothic papers to
my fancy. There is one fault, that is in the nature
of the thing, and cannot be avoided. The great
beauty of all Gothic designs is the variety of per
spectives they occasion. This a painter may repre
sent on the walls of a room in some measure; but
not a designer of papers, where, what is represented
on one breadth, must be exactly repeated on another,
both in the light and shade, and in the dimensions.
This we cannot help ; but they do not even do what
they might. They neglect Hollar, to copy Mr. Half
penny's1 architecture, so that all they do is more like
a goose-pie than a cathedral. You seem to suppose,
that they do Gothic papers in colours, but I never
saw any but such as were to look like stucco : nor
indeed do I conceive that they could have any effect
or meaning. Lastly, I never saw anything of gild
ing, such as you mention, on paper, but we shall
see. Only pray leave as little to my judgment as
possible.

1 William Halfpenny, a London architect, who had just
published a work on Useful Architecture, 1760. — [Ed.]

LETTEES. Ill

I thanked Dr. Ash ton before you told me to do
so. He writes me word, that (except the first Sunday
of a month), he believes, he shall be at Eton till the
middle of November; and (as he now knows the
person in question is your nephew) adds, I remember
Dr. Wharton with great pleasure, and beg you will
signify as much to him, when you write.

The king is just married, it is the hottest night in
the year. Adieu ! it is late. — I am ever yours,

T. G.

Tuesday [endorsed September 8, 1761].

XL. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

London, September 24, 1761.

DEAR SIR — I set out at half an hour past four in the
morning for the Coronation, and (in the midst of
perils and dangers) arrived very safe at my Lord
Chamberlain's box in Westminster Hall. It was on
the left hand of the throne, over that appropriated to
the foreign ministers. Opposite to us was the box
of the Earl Marshal and other great officers ; and be
low it that of the princess and younger part of the
royal family. Next them was the royal sideboard.
Then below the steps of the haut pas were the tables
of the nobility, on each side quite to the door ; behind
them boxes for the sideboards ; over these other
galleries for the peers' tickets; and still higher the
boxes of the Auditor, the Board of Green Cloth, etc.

112 LETTERS.

All these thronged with people head above head, all
dressed; and the women with their jewels on. In
front of the throne was a triomphe of foliage and
flowers resembling nature, placed on the royal table,
and rising as high as the canopy itself. The several
bodies that were to form the procession issued from
behind the throne gradually and in order, and, pro
ceeding down the steps, were ranged on either side of
hall. All the privy councillors that are commoners
(I think) were there, except Mr. Pitt, mightily dressed
in rich stuffs of gold and colours, with long flowing
wigs, some of them comical figures enough. The
Knights of the Bath, with their high plumage, were
very ornamental. Of the Scotch peers or peeresses
that you see in the list very few walked, and of the
English dowagers as few, though many of them were
in town, and among the spectators. The noblest and
most graceful figures among the ladies were the
Marchioness of Kildare (as Viscountess Leinster),
Viscountess Spencer, Countesses of Harrington, Pem
broke, and Strafford, and the Duchess of Richmond.
Of the older sort (for there is a grace that belongs to
age too), the Countess of Westmoreland, Countess of
Albemarle, and Duchess of Queensberry. I should
mention too the odd and extraordinary appearances.
They were the Viscountess Say and Sele, Countesses
of Portsmouth and another that I do not name, be
cause she is said to be an extraordinary good woman,
Countess of Harcourt, and Duchess of St. Alban's.
Of the men doubtless the noblest and most striking

LETTERS. 113

figure was the Earl of Enrol, and after him the Dukes
of Ancaster, Richmond, Marlborough, Kingston, Earl
of Northampton, Pomfret, Viscount Weymouth, etc.
The men were — the Earl Talbot (most in sight of
anybody), Earls of Delaware and Macclesfield, Lords
Montford and Melcombe ; all these I beheld at great
leisure. Then the princess and royal family entered
their box. The Queen and then the King took their
places in their chairs of state, glittering with jewels,
for the hire of which, beside all his own, he paid
£9000 ; and the dean and chapter (who had been
waiting without doors a full hour and half) brought
up the regalia, which the Duke of Ancaster received
and placed on the table. Here ensued great confusion
in the delivering them out to the lords who were
appointed to bear them ; the heralds were stupid ;
the great officers knew nothing of what they were
doing. The Bishop of Rochester1 would have dropped
the crown if it had not been pinned to the cushion,
and the king was often obliged to call out, and set
matters right ; but the sword of state had been entirely
forgot, so Lord Huntingdon was forced to carry the
lord mayor's great two-handed sword instead of it.
This made it later than ordinary before they got under
their canopies and set forward. I should have told

1 Zachary Pearce, translated from Bangor. He resigned the
deanery of Westminster in 1788, and wanted to resign his
bishopric, but was not permitted by law. He was a veiy good
scholar, as his editions of Cicero and Longinus show ; a learned
divine, and an excellent man, of a modest and unambitious
temper. — [Mit.]

VOL. III. T

114 LETTERS.

you that the old Bishop of Lincoln,1 with his stick,
went doddling by the side of the Queen, and the
Bishop of Chester had the pleasure of bearing the
gold paten. When they were gone, we went down
to dinner, for there were three rooms below, where
the 'Duke of Devonshire was so good as to feed us
with great cold sirloins of beef, legs of mutton, fillets
of veal, and other substantial viands and liquors,
which we devoured all higgledy-piggledy, like porters;
after which every one scrambled up again, and seated
themselves. The tables were now spread, the cold
viands eat, and on the king's table and sideboard a
great show of gold plate, and a dessert representing
Parnassus, with abundance of figures of Muses, Arts,
etc., designed by Lord Talbot. This was so high that
those at the end of the hall could see neither king
nor queen at supper. When they returned it was so
dark that the people without doors scarce saw any
thing of the procession, and as the hall had then no
other light than two long ranges of candles at each of
the peers' tables, we saw almost as little as they, only
one perceived the .lords and ladies sidling in and
taking their places to dine ; but the instant the
queen's canopy entered, fire was given to all the
lustres at once by trains of prepared flax, that reached
from one to the other. To me it seemed an interval
of not half a minute before the whole was in a blaze

1 Dr. John Thomas, who was this year translated to Salis
bury, and died 1776 ; succeeded at Lincoln by John Greene. —
[Mit.]

LETTERS. 115

of splendour. It is true that for that half minute it
rained fire upon the heads of all the spectators (the
flax falling in large flakes) ; and the ladies, Queen
and all, were in no small terror, but no mischief
ensued. It was out as soon as it fell, and the most
magnificent spectacle I ever beheld remained. The
King (bowing to the lords as he passed) with his
crown on his head, and the sceptre and orb in his
hands, took his place with great majesty and grace.
So did the Queen, with her crown, sceptre, and rod.
Then supper was served in gold plate. The Earl
Talbot, Duke of Bedford, and Earl of Effingham,1 in
their robes, all three on horseback, prancing and cur
veting like the hobby-horses in the Rehearsal, ushered
in the courses to the foot of the haut-pas. Between
the courses the Champion performed his part with
applause. The Earl of Denbigh2 carved for the King,
the Earl of Holdernesse for the Queen. They both
eat like farmers. At the board's end, on the right,
supped the Dukes of York and Cumberland ; on the
left Lady Augusta ; all of them very rich in jewels.
The maple cups, the wafers, the faulcons, etc., were
brought up and presented in form ; three persons
were knighted ; and before ten the King and Queen
retired. Then I got a scrap of supper, and at one
o'clock I walked home. So much for the spectacle,
which in magnificence surpassed everything I have

1 Thomas Harcourt, succeeded 1743 ; born 1719, died 1763 ;
he was Deputy Earl Marshal and Lieutenant-General. — [Afit.]

2 Basil Fielding, sixth Earl, succeeded 1755, died 1800.

116 LETTERS.

seen. Next I must tell you that the Barons of the
Cinque Ports, who by ancient right should dine at a
table on the haut-pas, at the right hand of the throne,
found that no provision at all had been made for
. them, and, representing their case to Earl Talbot, he
told them, " Gentlemen, if you speak to me as High
Steward, I must tell you there was no room for you ;
if as Lord Talbot, I am ready to give you satisfaction
in any way you think fit." They are several of them
gentlemen of the best families ; so this has bred ill
blood. In the next place, the City of London found
they had no table neither; but Beckford1 bullied
my Lord High Steward till he was forced to give
them that intended for the Knights of the Bath, and
instead of it they dined at the entertainment pre
pared for the great officers. Thirdly. Bussy was not
at the ceremony. He is just setting out for France.
Spain has supplied them with money, and is picking
a quarrel with us about the fishery and the logwood.
Mr. Pitt says so much the better, and was for recall
ing Lord Bristol directly ; however, a flat denial has
been returned to their pretensions. When you have
read this send it to Pa.

1 The well-known Alderman Beckford, Member for the City,
and twice Mayor of London, father of a more illustrious son.
He died during his mayoralty in 1770.

LETTERS. 117

XLL— TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

London, October . . ., 1761.

DEAR MASON — Perhaps you have not yet hanged
yourself; when you do (as doubtless you must be
thinking of it), be so good as to give me a day or
two's notice that I may be a little prepared. Yet
who knows, possibly your education at St. John's,
in conjunction with the Bishop of Gloucester,1 may
suggest to you that the naked Indian that found
Pitt's diamond2 made no bad bargain when he sold it
for three oyster-shells and a pompon of glass beads to
stick in his wife's hair; if so, you may live and read on.
Last week I had an application from a broken
tradesman (whose wife I knew) to desire my interest
with the Duke of Newcastle for a tide-waiter's place ;
and he adds, " Sir, your speedy compliance with this
will greatly oblige all your family." This morning
before I was up, Dr. Morton, of the Museum,3 called
here and left the inclosed note. He is a mighty civil
man ; for the rest you know him full as well as I do ;
and I insist that you return me a civil answer. I do

1 William Warburton.

2 Allusion to Pope's lines, —

' ' Asleep and naked as an Indian lay,
An honest factor stole a gem away."

Moral Essays, Epist. iii. — [Mit.]

3 Dr. Charles Morton, of the British Museum, is mentioned
by Lord Chesterfield in his Letters, vol. i. p. 38. He was
Keeper of the MSS. and Medals, and, after the death of Dr.
Maty, principal librarian. He died February 10, 1799. — [Mit.]

118 LETTERS.

not insist that you should get him the mastership ;
on the contrary, I desire (as anybody would in such
a case) that you will get it for yourself ; as I intend,
when I hear it is vacant, to have the tide-waiter's
place, if I miss of the Priory Seal and Cofferership.
-Yours, T. G.

XLJI. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Southampton Row, October 22, 1761.
DEAR DOCTOR — Do not think me very dilatory, for
I have been sending away all my things from this
house (where nevertheless I shall continue while I
stay in town) and have besides been confined with a
severe cold to my room. On rummaging Mr. Brom-
wick's and several other shops I am forced to tell
you, that there are absolutely no papers at all, that
deserve the name of Gothic, or that you would bear
the sight of. They are all what they call fancy ', and
indeed resemble nothing that ever was in use in any
age or country. I am going to advise, what perhaps
you may be deterred from by the addition of expense,
but what, in your case I should certainly do. Any
body that can draw the least in the world is capable
of sketching in India ink a compartment or two of
diaper -work, or a niche or tabernacle with its fret
work : take such a man with you to Durham Cathe
dral, and let him copy one division of any ornament
you think will have any effect, from the high -altar
suppose or the nine altars, or what you please. If
nothing there suits you, chuse in Dart's Canterbury

LETTERS. 119

or Dugdale's Warwickshire, etc., and send the design
hither. They will execute it here, and make a new
stamp on purpose, provided you will take twenty
pieces of it, and it will come to a halfpenny or a
penny a yard the more (according to the work, that
is in it). This I really think worth your while. I
mention your doing it there, because it will be then
under your own eye, and at your own choice, and
you can proportion the whole better to the dimen
sions of your room, for if the design be of Arcade-
work, or anything on a pretty large scale, and the
arches or niches are to rise one above the other, there
must be some contrivance, that they may fill the
entire space and not be cut in sunder and incom
plete. This indeed, where the work is in small com
partments, is not to be minded. Say therefore, if
you come into this, or shall I take a man here to
Westminster, and let him copy some of those fret
works 1 though I think, in the books I have named
you may find better things. I much doubt of the
effect colours (any other than the tints of Stucco)
would have in a Gothic design on paper, and here
they have nothing to judge from. Those I spoke of
at Ely were green and pale blue with the raised work
white, if you care to hazard it. I saw an all- silver
paper quite plain, and it looked like block-tin. In
short there is nothing I would venture to send you.
One of 3d. a yard in small compartments, thus,1 might

1 At this point Gray introduces a rough drawing to explain
his meaning. — [ Ed. ]

120 LETTERS.

perhaps do for the stairs, but very likely it is common,
and besides it is not pure Gothic, therefore I would
not send it alone. Adieu, and tell me soon what I
shall do.

I go to Cambridge in three weeks or less.

XLIII.— TO THOMAS WHARTON.

London, November 13, 1761.

DEAR DOCTOR — I went as soon as I received your
last letter, to chuse papers for you at Bromwick's.
I applaud your determination, for it is mere pedantry
in Gothicism to stick to nothing but Altars and
Tombs, and there is no end of it, if we are to sit
upon nothing but Coronation -chairs, nor drink out
of nothing but chalices or flagons. The idea is
sufficiently kept up, if we live in an ancient house,
but with modern conveniences about us. Nobody
will expect the inhabitants to wear ruffs and farthin
gales. Besides these things are not to be had, unless
we make them ourselves.

I have however ventured to bespeak (for the stair
case) the Stucco -paper of 3d. a yard, which I men
tioned to you before. It is rather pretty, and nearly
Gothic. The border is entirely so, and where it runs
horizontally, will be very proper ; where perpendicu
larly, not altogether so. I do not see, how this could
be avoided. The crimson paper is the handsomest
I ever saw ; from its simplicity, I believe, as it is
nothing but the same thing repeated throughout.

LETTERS. 121

Mr. Trevor (Hambden) designed it for his own use.
The border is a spiral scroll, also the prettiest I have
seen. This paper is 8d. a yard. The blue is the
most extravagant, a Mohair -flock paper of a shilling
a yard, which I fear you will blame me for ; but it
was so handsome, and looked so warm, I could not
resist it. The pattern is small, and will look like a
cut-velvet : the border a scroll like the last, but on a
larger scale. You will ask, why the crimson (which
was to be the best) is not a Mohair- paper too? Be
cause it would have no effect in that sort of pattern ;
and it is as handsome as it need to be, without that
expense. The Library paper is a cloth colour : all
I can say for it is, that it was the next best design
they had after the former. I think it is 7|d. a yard.
They do not keep any quantity by them (only samples
of each sort) but promise, they shall be finished in a
week, and sent to your brother's, with whom I have
left the bill, as I go myself to Cambridge in a day or
two. Indeed this is a very improper time to trouble
him, though when I called there last night, I was told
she was a great deal better. I did not know of his
loss till you told me: on which I went to ask how
they did, and found him truly in a very deplorable
situation. He said he had wrote to you, but I do
not know, whether he was able to give you a full
account of l

1 The last page of the MS. has been lost— [Ed.]

122 LETTERS.

XLIV.— TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

November, Saturday, 1761.

DEAR SIR— Your letter has rejoiced me, as you will
easily believe, and agreeably disappointed me. I con
gratulate you in the first place ; and am very glad to
see the college have had the spirit and the sense to
do a thing so much to their own credit, and to do
it in a handsome manner. My best service to Mr.
Lyon;1 and tell him it will be a great disobligation
if my lady takes him away to pass the Christmas
with her, just when I am proposing to visit him in
his new capacity. I hope to be with you in about
a week, but will write again before I come. Do
persuade Mr. Delaval to stay; tell him I will say

anything he pleases of'

Have you read the negociations 1 I speak not to
Mr. Delaval, but to you. The French have certainly
done Mr. Pitt service in publishing them. The spirit
and contempt he has shown in his treatment of
Bussy's proposals, whether right or wrong, will go
near to restore him to his popularity, and almost
make up for the disgrace of the pension. My Lord
Temple is outrageous ; he makes no scruple of declar-

1 Thomas Lyon, Fellow of Pembroke College, 1761, third son
of Thomas, Lord Strathmore ; admitted Fellow-Commoner, 1756,
elected Fellow, November 1761, and vacated his Fellowship in
1767 ; his new capacity must mean as Fellow. James Philip
Lyon, the second son of Lord Strathmore, was admitted Fellow-
Commoner in 1756, the same year as Gray.— [Mit.]

LETTERS. 123

ing that the Duke of N.1 and Lord Bute were the
persons whose frequent opposition in council were
the principal cause of this resignation. He has (as
far as he could) disinherited his brother G-. Grenville,
that is of about £4000 a-year, his father's estate ; and
yesterday he made a very strange speech in the
House that surprised everybody. The particulars I
cannot yet hear with certainty; but the Duke of
Bedford replied to it. Did you observe a very bold
letter in the Gazette of Thursday last about Carr
Earl of Somerset ?2 How do you like the King's
speech ? It is Lord Hardwicke's. How do you like
Hogarth's perriwigs ?3 I suppose you have discovered
the last face in the rank of peeresses to be a very
great personage; extremely like, though you never
saw her. Good-night. — I am ever yours, T. G.

1 Newcastle.

2 This allusion is, of course, to the growing favour of Lord
Bide. At this time great irritation was felt at the resignation
of Mr. Pitt and the increasing favouritism and influence of Lord
Bute, and very strong letters were written in the papers ; but I
have not found the letter to which Gray alludes. The London
Gazette was only an official paper. In Lloyd's Evening Post of
that period and month are several letters on the subject : to
what particular paper Gray alluded it seems difficult to say.
There were, besides the two papers mentioned above, Reed's
Weekly Journal and the London Chronicle, which may be
found in the Catalogue of the British Museum. Two Letters
to the Earl of Bute are advertised this month, November 1761,
in Lloyd's paper. — [Mit.]

3 Gray probably had been visiting the exhibition of Hogarth's
pictures at Spring Gardens. The "personage" is Queen Char
lotte.— [Ed.}

124 LETTERS.

XLV.— TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke Hall, December 8, 1761.

DEAR MASON— Of all loves come to Cambridge out
of hand, for here is Mr. Delaval and a charming set
of glasses that sing like nightingales;1 and we have
concerts every other night, and shall stay here this
month or two ; and a vast deal of good company,
and a whale in pickle just come from Ipswich ; and
the man will not die, and Mr. Wood is gone to Chats-
worth ; and there is nobody but you and Tom and
the curled dog ; and do not talk of the charge, for we
will make a subscription; besides, we know you
always come when you have a mind. T. G.

XLVI.— TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Cambridge, January 11, 1762.

DEAR MASON — It is a mercy that old men are mortal,
and that dignified clergymen know how to keep their

1 See Walpole's Misc. Letters, vol. ii. p. 111. "Gluck, a
German. He is to have a benefit, at which he is to play on a
set of drinking-glasses, which he modulates with water. I
think I have heard you speak of having seen some such thing."
They were much in fashion about this time. In the St. James's
Chronicle, December 3, 1761, is an advertisement : "At Mr.
Sheridan's lecture on Elocution, Miss Lloyd succeeds Miss Ford
in performing on the musical glasses for the amusement of genteel
company. " — [Mit. ] They consisted of a set of goblets, like finger-
glasses, which revolved on their centres when the rim was struck
with the fingers ; the whole enclosed in a small box. Another
name for the instrument was harmonica. — [Ed.]

LETTERS. 125

word. I heartily rejoice with you in your establish
ment, and with myself that I have lived to see it — to
see your insatiable mouth stopped, and your anxious
perriwig at rest and slumbering in a stall. The
Bishop of London,1 you see, is dead ; there is a fine
opening. Is there nothing farther to tempt you?
Feel your own pulse, and answer me seriously. It
rains precentorships ; you have only to hold up your
skirt and catch them.

I long to embrace you in your way to court. I
am still here, so are the Glasses and their master.
The first still delight me ; I wish I could say as much
for the second. Come, however, and see us, such as
we are. Mr. Brown is overjoyed at the news, yet he
is not at all well. I am (which is no wonder, being
undignified and much at leisure) entirely yours,

T. G.

XLVII. — TO HORACE WALPOLE.

Sunday, February 28, 1762.

I RETURN you my best thanks for the copy of your
book,2 which you sent me, and have not at all lessened
my opinion of it since I read it in print, though the
press has generally a bad effect on the complexion of
one's works. The engravings look, as you say, better
than I had expected, yet not altogether so well as I

1 Thomas Hayter succeeded Bishop Sherlock, translated
from Norwich, 1761; died the following year; succeeded by
Thomas Osbaldeston, 1762.— [Mit.]

2 The Anecdotes of Painting.

126 LETTERS.

could wish. I rejoice in the good dispositions of our
Court, and in the propriety of their application to
you: the work is a thing so much to be wished;
has so near a connection with the turn of your studies
and of your curiosity; and might find such ample
materials among your hoards and in your head ; that
it will be a sin if you let it drop and come to nothing,
or worse than nothing, for want of your assistance.
The historical part should be in the manner of Hen-
ault, a mere abridgement ; a series of facts selected
with judgment, that may serve as a clue to lead the
mind along in the midst of those ruins and scattered
monuments of art, that time has spared. This would
be sufficient, and better than Montfaucon's more
diffuse narrative. Such a work (I have heard) Mr.
Burke is now employed about, which, though not
intended for this purpose, might be applied perhaps
to this use. Then, at the end of each reign, should
come to a dissertation explanatory of the plates,
and pointing out the turn of thought, the customs,
ceremonials, arms, dresses, luxury, and private life,
with the improvement or decline of the arts during
that period. This you must do yourself, beside tak
ing upon you the superintendence, direction, and
choice of materials. As to the expense, that must be
the King's own entirely, and he must give the book
to foreign Ministers and people of note; for it is
obvious no private man can undertake such a thing
without a subscription, and no gentleman will care
for such an expedient ; and a gentleman it should be,

LETTERS. 127

because he must have easy access to archives, cabinets,
and collections of all sorts. I protest I do not think
it impossible ; but they may give in to such a scheme ;
they approve the design, they wish to encourage the
arts, and to be magnificent, and they have no Ver
sailles or Herculaneum.

I hope to see you toward the end of March. If
you bestow a line on me, pray tell me whether the
Baronne de la Peyriere is gone to her Castle of Viry,
and whether Fingal be discovered or shrewdly sus
pected to be a forgery. Adieu ! — I am yours ever,

T. GRAY.

XLVIII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Cambridge, March 17, 1762.

DEAR DOCTOR — I send your reverence the lesson,
which is pure good-nature on my part, knowing
already, as I do, that you do not like it. No sooner
do people feel their income increase than they want
amusement. Why, what need have you of any other
than to sit like a Japanese divinity with your hands
folded on your fat belly, wrapped and, as it were,
annihilated in the contemplation of your own copuses
and revenues ? The pentagrapher is gone to town, so
you have nothing to do but to go and multiply in
your own vulgar way; only don't fall to work and
forget to say grace.

The laureate has honoured me (as a friend of yours,
for I know no other reason) with his new play and

128 LETTERS.

his "Charge to the Poets" :l the first very middling;
the second I am pleased with, chiefly with the sense,
and sometimes with the verse and expression; and
yet the best thing he ever wrote was that "Elegy
against Friendship " you once shewed me, where the
sense was detestable ; so that you see it is not at all
necessary a poet should be a good sort of man — no,
not even in his writings. Bob Lloyd has published
his works in a just quarto volume, containing, among
other things, a Latin translation of my Elegy; an
epistle, in which is a very serious compliment to me
by name,2 particularly on my Pindaric accomplish
ments ; and the very two odes you saw before, in
which we were abused, and a note to say they were
written in concert with his friend Mr. Colman ; so
little value have poets for themselves, especially when
they would make up a just volume. Mr. Delap is
here, and has brought his cub to Trinity. He has
picked up again purely since his misfortune, and is
fat and well, all but a few bowels. He says Mrs.
Pritchard spoilt his Hecuba with sobbing so much,
and that she was really so moved that she fell in fits

1 The new play of Mr. "Whitehead was The School for Lovers,
acted at Drury Lane, 1762. His poem was " Address to youth
ful Poets, a poetic Charge." — [Mit.~\

2 The praise of Gray occurs in Lloyd's Epistle to Chur
chill—

' What muse like Gray's shall pleasing, pensive, flow,
Attempered sweetly to the rustic woe ;
Or who like him shall sweep the Theban lyre,
And, as his master, pour forth thoughts of fire?"

\MiL}

LETTERS. 129

behind the scenes. I much like Dr. Lowth's Gram
mar ; it is concise, clear, and elegant. He has selected
his solecisms from all the best writers of our tongue.
I hear Mr. Hurd is seriously writing against Fingal,
by the instigation of the devil and the bishop.1 Can
it be true 1 I have exhausted all my literary news,
and I have no other. Adieu. — I am truly yours,

T. G.

Mr. Brown has got a cap, and hopes for a suitable
hood. You must write a line to tell him how to send
them. I go to town on Monday, but direct to me
here.

XLIX. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — I have no other apprehension, if I
should come into the north, than that of somehow
incommoding you and your family ; and yet I believe,
my strong inclination to see you and your Carthage
will prevail over so reasonable an apprehension. As
to all the inconveniences, that regard myself, and
which you are so kindly providing against, I set them
at nought. However, you shall know of my motions
before I stir.

You are not to take this for a letter : it is a mes
sage, that I am forced to send. There is a Mr. Thomas
Hornsby, an Apothecary at Durham, who makes a sort
of lozenges, said to be good in a gouty cough, and in
digestions. A relation of mine, a poor girl, who is

1 Warburtcm, Bishop of Gloucester.
VOL. III. K

130 LETTERS.

exceedingly ill, having had some of these from the
Abdy family (whose stock is nearly exhausted) fancies
they do her great service. I therefore must beg you
would send to Mr. Hornsby, and let him put up a
quarter of a pound in as little compass as he can, and
send it to the post-master (directed to Mrs. Antrobus,
post-mistress at Cambridge), and let him put it in the
mail. The sooner this can be done the better, and
you will oblige me and the patient.

I am sorry, you are forced to complain of this
untoward suffocating season : but who has escaped
without illness1? for me I have felt neither cold
nor fever : but I have had two slight attacks of the
gout after near three years intermission, it is well, if
I escape so.

Adieu ! dear Doctor. My best services to Mrs.
Wharton. — I am ever truly yours, T. GRAY.

Pembroke Hall, June 4, 1762.

I am just returned hither from London, where I
have been these two months.

L. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke Hall, Monday [June], 1762.
DEAR MASON — If you still are residing and precenting
at York, I feel a great propensity to visit you there
in my way northwards. Do not be frightened ; for
I do not mean to be invited to your house. I can
bring many reasons against it, but will content myself

LETTERS. 131

with referring you to Mr. Whitehead's " Satire on
Friendship," the sentiment of which you thought as
natural as I did the verses. I therefore desire of
you to procure me a lodging by the week (the cheaper
the better), where there is a parlour, and bed-chamber,
and some closet (or other place near it) for a servant's
bed. Perhaps I may stay a fortnight, and should
like, when I have a mind, to have any little thing
dressed at home ; probably I may arrive next week,
but you shall have exacter notice of my motions
when they are settled.

Dr. Delap (your friend) is here, and we celebrate
very cordially your good qualities in spite of all your
bad ones. We are rather sorry that you, who have
so just a sense of the dignity of your function, should
write letters of wit and humour to Lord D.1 and his
sweet daughter in the Royal (I think it is) or Lady's
Magazine ; but you are very rightly served for your
vivacity and reflection upon poor K. Hunter.2 Adieu.
— I am truly yours, T. G.

Pray write a line directly to say if you are at
York.

1 There is no Lady's Magazine of that date in the British
Museum. There is the Royal or Gentleman's Magazine.
Through the volumes of 1761 and 1762 I have looked, but no
letters to Lord D. and his daughter appear in them. — [Mit.]

2 See Walpole's Miscellaneous Correspondence, iv. 211-214.
"In all your reading, true or false, have you heard of a young
Earl, married to the most beautiful woman in the world, Lord
of the Bedchamber, a general officer, and with a great estate,
quitting everything,— his young wife, world, property, for life,

132 LETTERS.

LL — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR— I have passed a week here with Mr.
Precentor, and assisted at all his functions in the
Minster with the greatest regularity. He is at pre
sent gone to meet Lord and Lady Holdernesse at
Aston, but returns (I believe) on Wednesday : after
which (on Saturday or Sunday probably), I hope
to see you at Old Park, if you have no objection,
otherwise you will direct to me at Mason's. Adieu,
I am ever yours, T. G.

York, July. 10, 1762.

LIT. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Old Park, July 19, 1762.

DEAR SIR — After my fortnight's residence at York,
I am arrived here. The Precentor is very hopefully
improved in dignity. His scarf sets the fullest about
his ears ; his surplice has the most the air of lawn-
sleeves you can imagine in so short a time ; he begins

in a pacquet-boat with a Miss ! I fear your connexion will
bat too readily lead you to the name of the peer ; it's Henry
Earl of Pembroke, the nymph Kitty Hunter. The town and
Lady Pembroke were first witnesses to the intrigue, last
"Wednesday, at a great ball given at Lord Middleton's ; on
Thursday they decamped." The peer was Henry, tenth Earl
of Pembroke, who married in March 1756 Lady Elizabeth
Spencer, second daughter of the third Duke of Marlborough.
They lived for some time separated, but he afterwards ran away
with her!I They were reconciled and lived together. — [Mit.]

LETTERS. 133

to complain of qualms and indigestions from repose
and repletion : in short il tranche du Prelat. We
went twice a -day to church with our vergers and
all our pomp. Here the scene is totally altered:
we breakfast at six in the morning, and go to bed
at ten. The house rings all day with carpenters
and upholsterers, and without doors we swarm with
labourers and builders. The books are not yet un
packed, and there is but one pen and ink in the
house. Jetty and Fadge (two favourite sows) are
always coming into the entry, and there is a concert
of poultry under every window : we take in no
newspaper or magazine, but the cream and butter is
beyond compare. You are wished for every day,
and you may imagine how acceptable a correspondent
you must be. Pray write soon, and believe me ever
sincerely yours, T. G.

LIIT. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — I feel very ungrateful every day, that
I continue silent, and yet I do not write to you ; but
now the pen is in my hand, and I am in for it.
When I left you, in spite of the rain I went out
of my way to Richmond, and made a shift to see
the castle, and look down upon the valley, through
which the Swale winds : that was all the weather
would permit. At Rippon I visited the church, which
we had neglected before, with some pleasure, and
saw the Ure full to its brink and very inclinable to

134 LETTERS.

overflow. Some faint gleams of sunshine gave me
an opportunity of walking over Studley, and descend
ing into the ruins of Fountain's Abbey, which I
examined with attention. I passed over the ugly
moor of Harrowgate, made a bow to the Queen's
Head, and got late at night to Leeds; here the
rain was so perverse I could scarce see the town,
much less go to Kirkstall Abbey, which was my in
tention; so I proceeded to Wakefield and Wentworth
Castle. Here the sun again indulged me, and opened
as beautiful a scene of rich and cultivated country,
as (I am told) Yorkshire affords. The water is all
artificial, but with an air of nature ; much wood ;
a very good house in the Queen Anne style, which
is now new -fronting in a far better taste by the
present Earl; many pictures not worth a farthing,
and a castle built only for a plaything on the top
of the hill as a point of view, and to command a
noble prospect. I went on to Sheffield, liked the
situation in a valley by a pretty river's side, sur
rounded with charming hills; saw the handsome
parish church with the chapel and monuments of
the Talbots. Then I entered the Peak, a country
beyond comparison uglier than any other I have seen
in England, black, tedious, barren, and not moun
tainous enough to please one with its horrors. This
is mitigated, since you were there, by a road like a
bowling-green, which soon brought me to -Chats-
worth. The house has the air of a palace, the
hills rising on three of its sides shut out the view

LETTERS. 135

of its dreary neighbourhood, and are covered with
wood to their tops : the front opens to the Der-
went winding through the valley, which, by the
art of Mr. Brown is now always visible and full
to its brim; for heretofore it could not well be
seen (but in rainy seasons) from the windows. A
handsome bridge is lately thrown over it, and the
stables taken away, which stood full in view be
tween the house and the river. The prospect opens
here to a wider tract of country terminated by more
distant hills; this scene is yet in its infancy, the
objects are thinly scattered, and the clumps and
plantations lately made, but it promises well in
time. Within doors the furniture corresponds to
the stateliness of the apartments, fine tapestry, marble
door cases with fruit, flowers, and foliage, excellently
done by old Gibber's father,1 windows of plate glass
in gilded frames, and such a profusion of Gibbons'2
best carving in wood, viz. dead game, fish, shells,
flowers, etc., as I never saw anywhere. The ceilings
and staircases all painted by Verrio3 or Laguerre,4
in their usual sprawling way, and no other pictures,

1 Caius Gabriel Gibber (1630-1700), a Danish sculptor, who
came to England and worked under John Stone. He was em
ployed at Chatsworth for many years. — [Ed.}

2 Grinling Gibbons (1648-1721), the famous wood-carver.

3 Antonio Verrio (1634-1707), the historical painter.

4 Louis Laguerre (1663-1721), called "Old Laguerre." All
these artists were employed in the embellishment of Chats-
worth, "where," as Pope says, "sprawl the saints of Verrio
and Laguerre." — [Ed.]

136 LETTERS.

but in one room 8 or 10 portraits, some of them
very good, of James and Charles the first's time.
The gardens are small, and in the French style; with
waterworks, particularly a grand cascade of steps, and
a temple d'eauz at the head of it. From thence I went
to Hardwicke.1 One would think Mary Queen of
Scots, was but just walked down into the park with
her guard for half -an -hour. Her gallery, her room
of audience, her ante-chamber, with the very canopies,
chair of state, footstool, lit-de-repos, oratory, carpets,
and hangings, just as she left them. A little tattered
indeed, but the more venerable; and all preserved
with religious care, and papered up in winter. The
park and country are just like Hertfordshire. I
went by Chesterfield and Mansfield to revisit my
old friend the Trent at Nottingham, where I passed
two or three days, and from thence took stage coach
to London.

When I arrived there, I found Professor Turner2
had been dead above a fortnight, and being cockered
and spirited up by some friends (though it was rather
of the latest) I got my name suggested to Lord Bute.
You may easily imagine, who undertook it,3 and in-

1 Seat of the Duke of Devonshire in Nottinghamshire. —
[Mason.] Queen Mary never resided at Hardwicke.

2 Shallet Turner, of Peterhouse, was Professor of Modern
History and Modern Languages from 1735, when he succeeded
the first holder of the office, SamuerHarris, to 1762, when he
was succeeded by Lawrence Brockett. Turner was much blamed
as being not merely non-lecturing, but non-resident.— [Ed.]

3 This person was the late Sir Henry Erskine. As this

LETTERS. 137

deed he did it with zeal. I received my answer very
soon, which was what you may easily imagine, but
joined with great professions of his desire to serve me
on any future occasion, and many more fine words,
that I pass over, not out of modesty, but for another
reason. So you see I have made my fortune, like
Sir Fr. Wronghead. This nothing is a profound
secret, and no one here suspects it even now: to-day
I hear, that Delaval1 has got it, but we are not yet
certain : next to myself I wished for him.

You see we have made a peace. I shall be silent
about it, because if I say anything anti-ministerial,
you will tell me, you know the reason; and if I
approve it, you will tell me, I have expectations
still. All I know is, that the D. of Newcastle and
Lord Hardwicke both say it is an excellent peace ; and
only Mr. Pitt calls it inglorious and insidious.

I had a little gout twice, while I was in town,
which confined me some time: yet I bespoke your
chairs. They are what is called rout-chairs, but as
they are to be a little better in shape and materials
than ordinary, will come to about 6s. 9d. a chair.
I desired your brother to judge, how he performed,
and the first, that was made, was to be sent him
to see.

was the only application Mr. Gray ever made to ministry, I
thought it necessary to insert his own account of it. The place
in question was given to the tutor of Sir James Lowther. —
[Mason.]

1 Fellow of Pembroke Hall and of the Royal Society. —
[Mason.]

138 LETTERS.

My best respects attend Mrs. Wharton, who I sup
pose, receives them in bed. How does she do? My
compliments to Miss. — I am ever truly yours.

Cambridge, December 4, 1762.

Mason is in Yorkshire now, but I missed of him.

LIV. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Cambridge, December 21, 1762.

DEAR MASON — As to my pardon, for which you
supplicate, you , know too well how easily it is
obtained without any reason at all ; but now I have
a very good one, as I have read the third book of
the Ghost,1 where Churchill has so mumbled Mr.
Whitehead, to whom you owe all your principles
(see the unpublished elegy de Amicitia), that it
would be base in me to demand any farther satis
faction. This only I shall add, that I would rather
steal the Laureate's verses than his sentiments.

I am sorry for the disagreeable event you mention,
which I learnt by mere accident from Mr. Curtail in
a coffee-house. I do not doubt it must have taken
up a good deal of your thoughts and time, and should
wish to know whether there are any hopes of the
poor fellow's recovery.

We have received your poetical packet and de-

1 Gray was mentioned in the Ghost, and for this reason, per
haps, it is the only poem absent from the collection of Churchill's
pieces which exists with his marginal annotations. — [Ed.]

LETTERS. 139

livered them to the several parties. The sentiments
we do not remark, as we can find nothing within
ourselves congenial to them : for the expression, we
hint (but in a low, timid voice) that there is a want
of strength and spirit; in short, they are nothing
like the choruses in Elfrida, only the lines1 that

relate to Lady C 's beauty have made a deep

impression upon us ; we get them by heart and apply
them to our sempstresses and bedmakers. This is (I
think) the sum and substance of our reflections here ;
only Mrs. Rutherford observes that there is great
delicacy and tenderness in the manner of treating

so frail a character as that of Lady C , and that

you have found a way to reconcile contempt and
compassion : these might not be her words, but this
was the sense of them; I don't believe she had it
from the doctor.

I rejoice (in a weakly way you may be sure, as I
have not seen him some years, and am in so different
a way of life), but I rejoice to hear of any accession
to Mr. Hurd's fortune,2 as I do not believe he will be
anything the worse for it. Forrester (whom I per
ceive you can still remember) is removed from Easton3
to a better living by his patron Lord Maynard, on

1 Apparently Mason's Elegy V. on the Death of a Lady. —
[Ed.]

2 Mr. Hurd had the sinecure rectory of Folkton, near Brid-
lington, Yorkshire, given him by the Lord Chancellor (Earl of
Northington), on the recommendation of Mr. Allen, of Prior
Park, November 2, 1762.— [MY.]

3 Near Dunmow, Essex, the seat of Lord Maynard.

140 LETTERS.

purpose to get rid of him; for Easton is his own
parish, and he was sick to death of his company.
He is now seated just by his brother Pulter,1 and
they are mortal foes.

Mr. Brockett has got old Turner's professorship,
and Delaval has lost it.2 When we meet I have
something to tell you on this subject. I hope to
continue here till March ; if not, I shall inform you.
How does the peace agree with you ? Adieu. — I am
ever yours.

LV. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

1 Aston, January 15, 1763.

DEAR SIR — I send you with this a drawing of the
ruin you were so much pleased with when you saw
it at York.3 I take it certainly to have been the
chapel of St. Sepulchre, founded by Archbishop
Eoger, of which Dugdale has given us the original
charta fundationis ; but, as this opinion seems to con
tradict the opinion of Torre, and of Drake too, who
follows him, it is necessary to produce authentic

1 His brother, " Poulter Forrester."

2 In a manuscript pocket-book of Gray's, at Aston, of the
year 1762, I read the following entry: — "Nov. 4. Prof,
asked of D. of N. by Lord P. and Sir F. B. D. (i.e. Sir Francis
Blake Delaval). — Saturday, Nov. 1762. Heard for certain

that the professorship is given away, and not to D 1." —

[Jfifc]

3 A small Gothic chapel near the north-west end of York
Cathedral, with which Mr. Gray was much struck by the
beautiful proportion of the windows. — [Mit.]

LETTERS. 141

authority in proof of my assertion. These two
learned antiquaries suppose that the chapel in question
joined to the minster. Thus Torre : " Roger (Arch
bishop) having built against the great church a
chapel." And Drake: "Roger was buried in the
cathedral, near the door of St. Sepulchre's chapel,
which he himself had founded." -—Vide Drake's
Ebor., p. 478, p. 421. From these accounts we should
be led to conclude that this chapel was as much and
as close an appendage to the minster as the chapter
house is; but the original records, on which they
found this opinion, may I think be construed very
differently.

Archbishop Roger himself, in his charta fundationis,
describes its situation thus : — " capellam quam juxta
majorem ecclesiam extruximus." "Juxta "is surely
"near" only, not "adjoining;" and this ruin is near
enough. In the extract of this archbishop's life,
from an ancient MS. which Dugdale also gives us,
we find these words, "Condidit etiam Capellam
Sancti Sepulchri ad januam ipsius Palatii ex parte
boreali juxta ecd'am S. Petri." The ruin in question
might very probably be connected with the palace
gate by a cloister, of which on one side there are a
string of arches remaining ; and on the outside of the
minster, over the little gate next the tomb, there are
also vestiges of the roof of a cloister, which I imagine
went aside the palace gateway, and connected the
three buildings ; vide plan. But between this little
gate and the palace gate (which still remains) it is very

142 LETTERS.

evident there was no room for anything but a cloister,
for I do not think they are twenty yards asunder.

The last and only further account I can find of
the situation is from the same Life, where it is said
the canons of St. Peter, "graviter murmurabant
super situ dictae capellse eo quod nimis adhaesit
matrici ecclesiae."

This I think need not be translated literally ; the
word "nimis" leads one to a metaphorical sense.
The priests of St. Sepulchre were too near neighbours
to St. Peter's canons, and were troublesome to them ;
accordingly we find the archbishop, to quiet matters,
ordered that the saint of his chapel should make them
a recompense, which is in this extract stated.

To these arguments I would add, that Archbishop
Koger's donation was very great (as we find in Drake)
to this chapel; and, from the number of persons
maintained in its service, I question not but there
was a large convent built round it, of which there are
plainly the foundations still to be seen ; and what
puts the matter out of all doubt that this building
was separate and entire, though indeed near to the
minster, is the following fact, viz. that the tithes of
the chapel and chapel itself were sold to one Webster,
anno 42 Elizabeth: "Capella vocat St. Sepulcre's
Chapell prope Eccles. Cath. Ebor. cum decimis
ejusdem. W. Webster. Ap. 4, anno 4 Eliz."— Rolls.
Chap. Thus you see the " juxta " and " prope " are
clearly on my side ; the " nimis adhaesit " is equivocal.
I conclude with a rude draught of the platform

LETTERS.

143

according to my idea, but without any mensuration,
and merely to explain what has been said. I am with
the greatest respect and deference to your sagacity,
yours, etc. etc. etc

P.S. — I ought to mention to you, that in the tran
sept (I think you call it) of the church, namely, at B,
there is at the top over the large pillars, a range of

stonework like the windows in the ruin, viz. three
pointed arches under a circular one, but of a clumsy
proportion. This part I think you said was the oldest

144 LETTERS.

in the minster. Johnny Ludlam1 found this out.
Perhaps it contradicts all I have been saying, and
proves the building much older than Archbishop

Roger.

LVI.— TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

February 8, 1763.

DOCTISSIME DOMINE — Anne tibi arridont compli-
monta ? 2 If so, I hope your vanity is tickled with
the verglie d'oro of Count Algarotti, and the intended
translation of Signer Agostino Paradisi. For my
part I am ravished (for I too have my share), and
moreover astonished to find myself the particular
friend of a person so celebrated for his politezza e
dottrina as my cousin Taylor Howe.3 Are you upon

1 There were two persons well known in literature and
science, the Rev. William and the Rev. Thomas Ludlam, both
Fellows of St. John's College. William was M.A. 1742, and
died 1788; Thomas was M.A. 1752, and died 1811. They
were both highly esteemed by Dr. Balguy and Dr. Ogdon ; and
Bishop Kurd was so pleased with the merits of the Essays on
Theological subjects as to contribute to the expense of the
publication. My friend Mr. Nichols agrees with mo in think
ing that one of these brothel's was alluded to : the familiar
name Johnny being given to him from his residence at St.
John's College.— [Mit.]

8 A foreign scholar dining at Pembroke College, when the
conversation was carried on in Latin, one of the Fellows ad
dressed him in these words : " Domino, anno tibi arrident
herbnj?" (Sir, do you choose any greens?). — [MS. Note of Dr.
liennct, Bishop of Cloync.]

8 William Taylor Howe, of Standon Place, near Ongar,
Essex, an honorary Fellow of Pembroke College. — [Mit.}

LETTERS. 145

the road to see all these wonders, and snuff up the
incense of Pisa, or has Mr. Brown abated your ardour
by sending you the originals? I am waiting with
impatience for you and Mr. Hurd, though (as the
Bishop of Gloucester has broke his arm1) I cannot
expect him to stay here, whatever you may do.

I am obliged to you for your drawing, and very
learned dissertation annexed. You have made out
your point with a great degree of probability (for,
though the " nimis adhsesit " might startle one, yet
the sale of the tithes and chapel to Webster seems to
set all right again), and I do believe the building in
question was the chapel of St. Sepulchre ; but then
that the ruin now standing was the individual chapel,
as erected by Archbishop Roger, I can by no means
think. I found myself merely on the style and taste
of architecture. The vaults under the choir are still
in being, and were undoubtedly built by this very
archbishop. They are truly Saxon, only that the
arches are pointed, though very obtusely. It is the
south transept (not the north) that is the oldest part
of the minster now above ground. It is said to have
been begun by Geoffrey Plantagenet, who died about
thirty years after Roger, and left it unfinished. His
successor, Walter Grey, completed it ; so we do not
exactly know to which of these two prelates we are
to ascribe any certain part of it. Grey lived a long
time, and was archbishop from 1216 to 1255 (39mo

1 Dr. Warburton, Bishop of Gloucester, broke his arm, 1763,
while walking in the garden at Prior Park.

VOL. III. L

146 LETTERS.

Hen. III.); and in this reign it was that the beauty of
the Gothic architecture began to appear. The chapter
house is in all probability his work, and (I should
suppose) built in his latter days, whereas what he did
of the south transept might be performed soon after
his accession. It is in the second order of this build
ing that the round arches appear, including a row of
pointed ones (which you mention, and which I also
observed), similar to those in St. Sepulchre's Chapel,
though far inferior in the proportions and neatness of
workmanship. The same thing is repeated in the
north transept, but this is only an imitation of the
other, done for the sake of regularity, for this part of
the building is no older than Archbishop Komaine,
who came to the see in 1285, and died 1296.

All the buildings of Henry the Second's time
(under whom Roger lived, and died, 1181) are of a
clumsy and heavy proportion, with a few rude and
awkward ornaments ; and this style continues to the
beginning of Henry the Third's reign, though with a
little improvement, as in the nave of Fountains
Abbey, etc. Then all at once come in the tall piqued
arches, the light clustered columns, the capital of
curling foliage, the fretted tabernacles and vaultings,
and a profusion of statues, etc., that constitute the
good Gothic style, together with decreasing and flying
buttresses and pinnacles on the outside. Nor must
you conclude anything from Eoger's own tomb, which
has, I remember, a wide surbased arch with scalloped
ornaments, etc.; for this can be no older than the

LETTERS. 147

nave itself, which was built by Archbishop Melton
after the year 1315, one hundred and thirty years
after our Eoger's death.

Pray come and tell me your mind, though I know
you will be as weary of me as a dog, because I cannot
play upon the glasses, nor work joiner's work, nor
draw my own picture. Adieu, I am ever yours.

Why did not you send me the capital in the corner
of the choir I1

LVII. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

February 17, 1763.

You will make my best acknowledgments to Mr.
Howe, who not content to rank me in the number of
his friends, is so polite as to make excuses for having
done me that honour.

I ivas not born so far from the sun as to be ignorant
of Count Algarotti's 2 name and reputation ; nor am
I so far advanced in years or in philosophy, as not to
feel the warmth of his approbation. The Odes in

1 Gray's letter ends here. The long passage, which has
always hitherto been printed here, asserting that the writer
has discovered copious plagiarism of Mason's Elfrida in Hel
vetia, is a forgery by Mason. — [Ed.]

2 Count Francesco Algarotti (1712-1764), a learned dilettante,
who corresponded on matters of taste with Frederick the Great,
with Voltaire, and with Augustus III., King of Poland. Fred
erick buried him under a pompous monument in the Campo
Santo at Pisa.— [Ed.]

148 LETTERS.

question, as their motto shews, were meant to be
vocal to the intelligent alone. How few they were in my
own country, Mr. Howe can testify; and yet my
ambition was terminated by that small circle. I have
good reason to be proud, if my voice has reached the
ear and apprehension of a stranger distinguished as
one of the best judges in Europe.

I am equally pleased with the just applause he
bestows on Mr. Mason, and particularly on his Car-
actacus, which is the work of a Man : whereas the
Elfrida is only that of a boy, a promising boy
indeed, and of no common genius : yet this is the
popular performance with us, and the other little
known in comparison.

Neither Count Algarotti, nor Mr. Howe (I believe)
have heard of Ossian, the Son of Fingal. If Mr. Howe
were not upon the wing, and on his way homewards,
I would send it to him in Italy. He would there see,
that Imagination dwelt many hundred years ago in
all her pomp on the cold and barren mountains of
Scotland. The truth (I believe) is that without any
respect of climates she reigns in all nascent societies
of men, where the necessities of life force every one to
think and act much for himself.1 Adieu !

1 One is led to think from this paragraph that the scepticism
which Mr. Gray had expressed before concerning these works
of Ossian was now entirely removed. I know no way of ac
counting for this (as he had certainly received no stronger
evidence of their authenticity) but from the turn of his studies
at the time. He had of late much busied himself in antiquities,
and consequently had imbibed too much of the spirit of a pro-

LETTERS. 149

LVIII.— TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

March 6, 1763.

DEAR MASON — I should be glad to know at what
time you think of returning into the North, because
I am obliged to be in town the end of this month, or
the beginning of next, and hope somewhere or other
to coincide with you, if the waters are not too much
out. I shall trouble you, in case you have any call
into the city (or if not your servant may do it), to
pay the insurance of a house for me at the London
Assurance Office in Birchin Lane. You will shew
them the receipt, which I here inclose. Pay twelve
shillings, and take another such receipt stamped,
which must be to 25th March, 1764.

You may remember that I subscribed long since
to Stuart's book of Attica ;l so long since, that I have
either lost or mislaid his receipt (which I find is the
case of many more people). Now he doubtless has
a list of names, and knows this to be true ; if, there
fore, he be an honest man, he will take two guineas
of you, and let me have my copy (and you will choose

fessed antiquarian ; now we know, from a thousand instances, that
no set of men are more willingly duped than these, especially by
anything that comes to them under the fascinating form of a
new discovery. — [Mason.]

1 The Antiquities of Athens Measured and Delineated, by
James Stuart, folio, 1762. This man, known as "Athenian
Stuart" (1713-1788), was one of the most successful architects
of the age. —[Ed.]

150 LETTERS.

a good impression); if not, so much the worse for
him. By way of douceur, you may, if you please
(provided the subscription is still open at its first
price), take another for Pembroke Hall, and send
them down together ; but not unless he will let me
have mine, and so the worshipful society authorise
me to say. All these disbursements the college and
I will repay you with many thanks. %

Where is your just volume, and when will you
have done correcting it? Eemember ine to Ston-
hewer and Dr. Gisborne, and believe me, ever yours,

T. G.

LIX. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — You may well wonder at my long
taciturnity : I wonder too, and know not what cause
to assign, for it is certain, I think of you daily. I
believe, it is owing to the nothingness of my history,
for except six weeks that I passed in town towards
the end of Spring, and a little jaunt to Epsom and
Box-hill, I have been here time out of mind in a
place where no events grow, though we preserve
those of former days by way of Hortus Siccus in our
libraries. My slumbers were disturbed the other day
by an unexpected visit from Mr. Wfalpole], who
dined with me, seemed mighty happy for the time
he stayed, and said he could like to live here : but
hurried home in the evening to his new gallery, which
is all gothicism, and gold, and crimson, and looking-

LETTERS. 151

glass. He has purchased at an auction in Suffolk
ebony chairs and old moveables enough to load a
waggon.

Mason and I have received letters from Count
Algarotti, Chambellan de sa Majest6 le Roi de Prusse,
with observations (that is panegyrics) on our Tragedies
and our Odes, and a present of certain Italian Dis
sertations, which he has lately published on the state
of Painting and Music. One of them is dedicated to
Mr. Pitt, whom he styles — Uomo immortale, e Restitu-
tore d'Inghilterra, Amico del gran Federigo.

I was in town, when Mr. Middleton died, and im
mediately got all the information I could (first from
Stonehewer, and then from your brother) of the dis
positions he had made. I suppose, they are as good
as you expected, and though the prospect is but small,
that you should enjoy the benefit of them in your
own person, yet that is not impossible ; and your son
(I think) stands a very good chance, which cannot
chuse but open an agreeable prospect to you, in which
I take a part, and congratulate you both upon it. I
doubt you have not read Rousseau's Emile; every
body that has children, should read it more than
once, for though it abounds with his usual glorious
absurdity, though his general scheme of education be
an impracticable chimera ; yet there are a thousand
lights struck out, a thousand important truths better
expressed than ever they were before, that may be
of service to the wisest man. Particularly I think he
has observed children with more attention and knows

152 LETTEES.

their meaning and the working of their little passions
better than any other writer. As to his religious
discussions, which have alarmed the world, and en
gaged their thoughts more than any other part of
his book, I set them all at nought, and wish they had
been omitted. Mrs. Jonathan told me, you begun
your evening-prayer as soon as I was gone, and that
it had a great effect upon the congregation : I hope
you have not grown weary of it, nor lay it aside,
when company comes. Poor Mrs. Bonfoy (who taught
me to pray) is dead. She struggled near a week against
the Iliac Passion (I fear) in great torture with all
her senses about her, and with much resolution took
leave of her physician some days before she expired,
and would suffer no one to see her afterwards but
common servants.

You describe Winston con tanto amore, that I take
it amiss I was not suffered to see it, and want to be
buried there too. But enough of death ! I have
forgot to tell you that Dr. Long has had an audience
of the King and Queen an hour long at Buckingham
House. His errand was to present them with a
Lyricord1 (such a one !) of his own making, and a
glass sphere : he had long been soliciting this honour,
which lord Bute at last procured him, and he is very
happy. The King told him, he bid fair for a century

1 A species of vertical harpsichord. Dr. Long, the aged
Master of Pembroke, had a remarkable mechanical faculty,
and several of his learned toys were still in existence a few
years ago. — [Ed.]

LETTERS. 153

of life at least ; asked him, whether he preached ;
why he did not write verses in the Cambridge collec
tion ; and what not ! The Q. spoke French to him,
and asked, how he liked Handel.

And I ask you, how you like the present times ?
whether you had not rather be a printer's devil, than
a secretary of state 1 You are to expect (I hear) a
new ministry, composed of the Earl of Shelburne,
Mr. Rigby, Duke and Dutch ess of Bedford, Earl
Gower, etc., which doubtless will give universal satis
faction. The great Lord Holland, who is at Paris,
being lately asked by a young man, who was return
ing home, whether he had any commands in England,
made no reply but by shrugging up his shoulders,
and fetching a deep sigh.

I kept an exact account of heat and cold here in
the Spring ; the sum and substance of which is, that
(at nine in the morning) on the 18th of January, the
therm, was at 31, and the small birds were so tame
you might take them up with your hand. This was
the greatest cold. On the 15th of April it was at 58,
and the same afternoon at 65, which was the greatest
heat from January to May 1st.

Feb. 3. Snowdrops flowered.

12. Crocus and liepatica fl. the snow then lying, and
therm, at 45.

18. Chaffinch sings. Bees appear.

21. White butterfly abroad.

25. Gnats fly, and large flies. Mezereon fl.

27. Honeysuckle and gooseberry unfold their leaves.
March 1. Violet flowers (in the garden). Rose opens its leaf.

154 LETTERS.

March 3. Daffodil and single hyacinth fl. Spider spins.

5. Thrush singing.

6. Elder in leaf ; currant and weeping willow in leaf.

8. Apricot blows. Skylark singing.

11. Wind very high at S.E. which continued with hard

frost.
16. Frost gone.

18. Apricot in full bloom.

19. Almond flowers. Lilac, barberry, and guelder-rose in

leaf.

April 2. Standard apricot, and wall -pears flower. Quince,
apple, .and sweet-briar, in leaf. Currant flowers.
Dutch elm opens its leaf.

4. Plumb in leaf.

6. Crown imperial fl.

6. Plumb flowers ; hawthorn, horse -chesnut, mountain-
ash in leaf.

9. Lime-tree in leaf ; jonquil and single anemone flower.

Lady-birds seen.

11. Cowslip flowers, and auricula. Swallow appears.
Young rooks caw in the nest.

14. Red-start appears. Cherries in full bloom.

15. Frontignac vine in leaf. Double wall-flower blows.

16. Nightingale sings. Apple blossoms.

19. Chaffinch and red-start sit on their eggs.

20. Elm, willow, and ash in flower (with the blackthorn),

hawthorn in full leaf.

21. Sycamore quite green. Oak puts out.

Pray present my respects to Mrs. and Miss Wharton.
— I am ever sincerely yours.
Pembroke, August 5, 1763.

We have nothing but rain and thunder of late.

LETTERS. 155

LX.— TO COUNT ALGAROTTI.1

Cambridge, September 9, 1763.

SIR — I received some time since the unexpected hon
our of a Letter from you,2 and the promise of a
pleasure, which, till of late I had not the opportunity of
enjoying. Forgive me if I make my acknowledgments
in my native tongue, as I see it is perfectly familiar
to you, and I (though not unacquainted with the writ
ings of Italy) should from disuse speak its language
with an ill grace, and with still more constraint to
one, who possesses it in all its strength and purity.

I see with great satisfaction your efforts to reunite
the congenial arts of poetry, music and the dance,
which with the assistance of painting and architecture,
regulated by taste, and supported by magnificence
and power, might form the noblest scene, and bestow
the sublimest pleasure, that the imagination can con
ceive. But who shall realise these delightful visions'?
There is, I own, one Prince in Europe, that wants
neither the will, the spirit, nor the ability : but can
he call up Milton from his grave, can he re-animate

1 This letter exists in the Additional MS8. of the British
Museum, not in Gray's handwriting, but apparently copied by
a Frenchman, for all the " ands " are written " et" — [Ed.]

2 Mr. Taylor Howe was the channel of intercourse, between
Mr. Gray, Mr. Mason, and Count Algarotti ; with the latter
he was particularly intimate, and it seems only to have been
from the disapprobation expressed by Mr. Gray, that he was
induced to lay aside his favourite intention of republishing the
Count's works in England. A collection of Letters between
Gray and Algarotti is said to be in existence. — [MU.]

156 LETTERS.

Marcello, or bid the Barberina or the Sall6 move again ?
can he (as much a king as he is) govern an Italian
Virtuoso,, destroy her caprice and impertinence, with
out hurting her talents, or command those unmeaning
graces and tricks of voice to be silent, that have gained
her the adoration of her own country (\

One cause, that so long has hindered, and (I fear)
will hinder that happy union, which you propose,
seems to be this : that poetry (which, as you allow,
must lead the way, and direct the operation of the
subordinate arts) implies at least a liberal education,
a degree of literature, and various knowledge, whereas
the others (with a few exceptions) are in the hands
of slaves and mercenaries, I mean, of people without
education, who, though neither destitute of genius,
nor insensible to fame, must yet make gain their
principal end, and subject themselves to the prevail
ing taste of those, whose fortune only distinguishes
them from the multitude.

I cannot help telling you, that eight or ten years
ago, I was a witness to the power of your comic
music.— There was a little troop of Buffi, that exhi
bited a Burletta in London, not in the Opera House,,
where the audience is chiefly of the better sort, but
on one of the common Theatres full of all kinds of
people and (I believe) the fuller from that natural
aversion we bear to foreigners : their looks and their
noise made it evident, they did not come thither to
hear ; and on similar occasions I have known candles
lighted, broken bottles, and pen knives flung on the

LETTERS. 157

stage, the benches torn up, the scenes hurried into
the street and set on fire. The curtain drew up, the
music was of Cocchi, with a few airs of Pergolesi in
terspersed. The singers were (as usual) deplorable,
but there was one girl (she called herself the Niccolina)
with little voice and less beauty ; but with the utmost
justness of ear, the strongest expression of counte
nance, the most speaking eyes, the greatest vivacity
and variety of gesture. Her first appearance instantly
fixed their attention ; the tumult sunk at once, or if
any murmur rose, it was hushed by a general cry for
silence. Her first air ravished everybody ; they for
got their prejudices, they forgot, that they did not
understand a word of the language \ they entered into
all the humour of the part, made her repeat all her
songs, and continued their transports, their laughter,
and applause to the end of the piece. Within these
three last years the Paganini and Amici have met
with almost the same applause once a week from a
politer audience on the Opera stage. The truth is,
the Opera itself, though supported there at a great
expence for so many years, has rather maintained
itself by the admiration bestowed on a few particular
voices, or the borrowed taste of a few men of condi
tion, that have learned in Italy how to admire, than
by any genuine love we bear to the best Italian music :
nor have we yet got any style of our own, and this I
attribute in great measure to the language, which in
spite of its energy, plenty, and the crowd of excellent
writers this nation has produced, does yet (I am sorry

158 LETTERS.

to say it) retain too much of its barbarous original to
adapt itself to musical composition. I by no means
wish to have been born anything but an Englishman ;
yet I should rejoice to exchange tongues with Italy.

Why this nation has made no advances hitherto
in painting and sculpture is hard to say. The fact is
undeniable, and we have the vanity to apologise for
ourselves, as Virgil did for the Romans, Excudent alii,
etc. It is sure, that architecture had introduced itself
in the reign of the unfortunate Charles I. and Inigo
Jones has left us some few monuments of his skill,
that shew him capable of greater things. Charles
had not only a love for the beautiful arts, but some
taste in them. The confusion that soon followed,
swept away his magnificent collection; the artists
were dispersed, or ruined, and the arts disregarded
till very lately. The young monarch now on the
throne is said to esteem and understand them. I
wish he may have the leisure to cultivate and the skill
to encourage them with due regard to merit, other
wise it is better to neglect them. You, Sir, have
pointed out the true sources, and the best examples
to your countrymen. They have nothing to do, but
to be what they once were ; and yet perhaps it is more
difficult to restore good taste to a nation, that has de
generated, than to introduce it in one, where as yet
it has never flourished. You are generous enough to
wish, and sanguine enough to foresee, that it shall one
day flourish in England. I too must wish, but can
hardly extend my hopes so far. It is well for us that

LETTERS. 159

you do not see our public exhibitions. — But our artists
are yet in their infancy, and therefore I will not ab
solutely despair.

I owe to Mr. How the honour I have of conversing
with Count Algarotti, and it seems as if I meant to
indulge myself in the opportunity : but I have done.
Sir, I will only add, that I am proud of your appro
bation, having no relish for any other fame than what
is conferred by the few real judges, that are so thinly
scattered over the face of the earth. I am, Sir, with
great respect, your most obliged humble Servant,

T. GRAY.

A. S. E. II Conte Fransisco Algarotti,
Ciambellan di S. M. il Re di Prussia, etc. etc.
Italia, Bolognia.

LXI. — TO WILLIAM TAYLOR HOWE.

Cambridge, September 10, 1763.

SIR — I ought long since to have made you my ac
knowledgments for the obliging testimonies of your
esteem that you have conferred upon me ; but Count
Algarotti's books1 did not come to my hands till the
end of July, and since that time I have been prevented
by illness from doing any of my duties. I have read
them more than once with increasing satisfaction, and
should wish mankind had eyes to descry the genuine
sources of their own pleasures, and judgment to know
the extent, that nature has prescribed to them : if

1 Three small treatises on Painting, the Opera, and the
French Academy for Painters in Italy ; they have been since
collected in the Leghorn edition of his works. — [Mason.]

160 LETTERS.

this were the case, it would be their interest to appoint
Count Algarotti their " Arbiter Elegantiarum." He
is highly civil to our nation, but there is one little
point, in which he does not do us justice. I am the
more solicitous about it, because it relates to the only
taste we can call our own, the only proof of our ori
ginal talent in matter of pleasure ; I mean, our skill
in gardening, and laying out grounds. That the
Chinese have this beautiful art in high perfection,
seems very probable from the Jesuits' Letters, and
more from Chambers's little discourse published some
few years ago. But it is very certain, we copied
nothing from them, nor had anything but nature for
our model. It is not forty years, since the art was
born among us ; and it is sure, that there was nothing
in Europe like it, and as sure, we then had no infor
mation on this head from China at all.

I shall rejoice to see you in England, and talk
over these and many other matters with you at leisure.
Do not despair of your health, because you have not
found all the effects you had promised yourself from
a finer climate. I have known people, who have
experienced the same thing, and yet at their return
have lost all their complaints as by miracle. — I am,
Sr, your obliged humble Servant,

P.S.—I have answered C. Algarotti, whose letter
I conveyed to Mr. Mason, but whether he has received
his books, I have not yet heard. Mr. Brown charges
me with his best compliments.

LETTERS. 161

LXIL— TO THE REV. WILLIAM ROBINSON.

Pembroke HaU, October 10, 1763.

DEAR (REVEREND) BILLY — Having been upon the
ramble, I have neglected all my duties, in hopes
of finding pleasures in their room; which, after all
(as you know well), one never finds. My conscience
reproaches me with your obliging letter, and would
(I really think) carry me into Somersetshire, did not
poverty and winter stare me in the face, and bid me
sit still. I well remember Dr. Ross's kind invitation,
and in better days still hope to accept it. Doubt not
but my inclinations will be quickened by the hopes I
entertain of seeing you in so many new lights ; the
travelled Mr. Eobinson, with a thousand important
airs and graces, so much virtfo, so much spavoir-vivre !
the husband, the father, the rich clergyman, warm,
snug, and contented as a bishop. My mouth waters ;
but sure — the family will be in town this winter, and
I shall see you there in November. Is this the fine
autumn you promised me ? Oh ! I hear you (not
curse, you must not, but) . . . this untoward climate.
I doubt not but you write to Mason, though he does
not tell me so. There is he, repining at his four-and-
twenty weeks residence at York, unable to visit his
bowers, the work of his own hands, at Aston, except
in the depth of winter ; and longing for the flesh-pots
and coffee-houses of Cambridge. There is nobody
contented but you and I — oh yes, and Dr. Ross, who
(I shrewdly suspect) is the happiest of the three.
VOL. III. M

162 LETTERS.

Adieu, dear Sir, and believe me sincerely your friend
and humble servant, T. GRAY.

Present my compliments to Mrs. Robinson. Some
time or other I hope to have the honour of being
better known to her. Mr. Brown is well, and much
obliged to you for your kind remembrance of him.

LXIII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

1763.

DEAR MASON — As I have no more received my little
thing than you have yours, though they were sent
by the B&verley, Captain Allen, I have returned no
answer yet; but I must soon, and that in plain
English, and so should you too. In the meantime I
borrowed and read them.1 That on the Opera is a
good clever dissertation, dedicated to Guglielmo Pitt;
the other (// Congresso di Citera), in poetical prose,
describes the negociation of three ambassadresses
sent by England, France, and Italy to the Court of
Cupid, to lay before him the state of his empire in
the three nations ; and is not contemptible neither in
its kind ; so pray be civil to the count and Signor
Howe.

I think it may be time enough to send poor Smart
the money you have been so kind to collect for him
when he has dropped his lawsuit, which I do not

1 Namely, the works of Count Algarotti. Of these the most
successful were, Newtonianismo par le Dame, 1737 ; Saggio
sopra I'opera in musica, 1763 ; Saggio sopra la pittura, 1763 ;
and H Congreso di Citera. — [Ed.]

LETTERS. 163

doubt must go against him if he pursues it. Gordon
(who lives here) knows and interests himself about
him ; from him I shall probably know if he can be
persuaded to drop his design. There is a Mr. Anguish
in town (with whom I fancy you were once acquainted);
he probably can best inform you of his condition and
motions, for I hear he continues to be very friendly
to him.

When you speak of Mr. Bedingfield, you have
always a dash of gall that shews your unforgiving
temper, only because it was to my great chair he
made the first visit. For this cause you refused the
snuff-box (which to punish you I shall accept myself),
and for this cause you obstinately adhere to the
Church of England.

I like your Sonnet better than most dedications ;
it is simple and natural. The best line in it is : —

"So, to deceive my solitary days," etc.
There are an expression or two that break the repose of
it by looking common and overworn : " sequestered
shade," "woodbine sprays," "selected lays;" I dare
not mention "lettered ease." "Life's vain vision"
does not pronounce well. Bating these, it looks in
earnest, and as if you could live at Aston, which is
not true ; but that is not my affair.

I have got a mass of Pergolesi,1 which is all
divinity ; but it was lent me, or you should have it

1 It was Mr. Walpole's opinion that Gray first brought the
compositions of Pergolesi into England, though he does not
mention Pergolesi in his Letters. Mason and Wai pole had

164 LETTERS.

by all means. Send for six lessons for the pianoforte
or harpsichord of Carlo Bach, not the Opera Bach,
but his brother. To my fancy they are charming,
and in the best Italian style. Mr. Neville and the
old musicians here do not like them, but to me they
speak not only music, but passion. I cannot play
them, though they are not hard ; yet I make a smat
tering that serves "to deceive my solitary days;"
and I figure to myself that I hear you touch them
triumphantly. Adieu ! I should like to hear from you.
The Petit Bon1 sends his love to you. All the
rest (but Dr. May2 and the master) are dead or
married.

heard from him that he regarded the vocal compositions of
this master as models of perfection ; but the Salve Regina was
performed in England at the Hay market in 1740, so that it
could not have been brought into this country by Gray, who
did not arrive in England from Italy till the August of the
same year. — [Burney.] Gray made a valuable collection of
manuscript music while he was in Italy. It was sold, in nine
oblong quarto volumes, bound in the original vellum, at Mit-
ford's sale in 1854, and was found to consist of the compositions
of Aria, Arrigoni, Bernasconi, Broschi, Fiui, Galuppi, Giaii,
Hasse (called " II Sassone "), Lampognani, Latilla, Leo, Ligi,
Mazzoni, Pergolesi, Rinaldo di Capua, Sarvi, Schiassi, Sclitti,
Leonardo Vinci, and Zamperilli. Several of these volumes
contained annotations by the poet. — [Ed.]

1 The affectionate and friendly title given by Gray to his
friend Dr. James Brown, Fellow and subsequently Master of
Pembroke Hall, having succeeded Dr. Long in 1770, and
retained the headship till 1784. — [MiL]

2 Samuel May, elected a Fellow of Pembroke 1740, died in
1787. Mentioned by Gray in his Letters, but not in a very
flattering manner. — [Mit.]

LETTERS. 165

LXIV. — TO WILLIAM TAYLOR HOWE.

London, November 1763.

I AM ashamed of my own indolence in not answering
your former letter : a second, which I have since
received, adds to my shame, and quickens my motions.
I can see no manner of objection to your design of
publishing C. A/s1 works complete in your own
country. It will be an evidence of your regard for
him, that cannot but be very acceptable to him.
The Glasgow-press, or that of Baskerville, have given
specimens of their art, equal (at least) in beauty to
anything that Europe can produce. The expence
you will not much regard on such an occasion, and (if
you suffer them to be sold) that would be greatly
diminished, and most probably reimbursed. As to
notes (and I think some will be necessary) I easily
believe you will not overload the text with them, and
besides everything of that kind will be concerted
between you. If you propose any vignettes or other
matters of ornament, it would be well they were
designed in Italy, and the gravings executed either
there, or in France, for in this country they are woe
ful and beyond measure dear. The revising of the
press must be your own labour, as tedious as it is
inglorious ; but to this you must submit. As we im
prove in our types, etc., we grow daily more negligent
in point of correctness, and this even in our own
tongue. What will it be in the Italian ?
1 Count Algarotti.

166 LETTERS.

I did not mean you should have told C. A. my
objection, at least not as from me, who have no
pretence to take such a liberty with him : but I am
glad, he has altered the passage. He cannot wonder,
if I wish to save to our nation the only honour it has
in matters of taste, and no small one, since neither
Italy nor France have ever had the least notion of it,
nor yet do at all comprehend it, when they see it.
Mr. Mason has received the books in question from
an unknown hand, which I take to be Mr. Hollis,
from whom I too have received a beautiful set of
Engravings, as a present ; I know not why, unless as
a friend of yours. I saw and read the beginning of
this year, the Congresso di Cittra, and was excessively
pleased in spite of prejudice, for I am naturally no
friend to allegory, nor to poetical prose. Entre nous,
what gives me the least pleasure of any of his writings,
that I have seen, is the Newtoniasm. It is so direct an
imitation of Fontenelle, a writer not easy to imitate,
and least of all in the Italian tongue, whose character
and graces are of a higher style, and never adapt
themselves easily to the elegant badinage and Ug&rett
of conversation, that sets so well on the French.
Bat this is a secret between us.

I am glad to hear, he thinks of revisiting England ;
though I am a little ashamed of my country at this
present. Our late acquired glory does not set be
comingly upon us ; and even the Author of it, that
Eesitutor d'Inghilterra, is doing God knows what ! If
he should deign to follow the track of vulgar Ministers,

LETTERS. 167

and regain his power by ways injurious to his fame,
whom can we trust hereafter ? M. de Nivernois on
his return to France says (I hear) of England, " Quel
Roy, quel Peuple, quelle Societe" ! " And so say I.
Adieu, Sir, I am your most humble servant,

T. G.

LXV. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

February 21, 1764.

DEAR DOCTOR — If the ill news be true, which your
last letter to Mr. Brown makes very probable, I am
heartily sorry for the loss you have had of poor Mr.
E-. Wharton, as I am sure you cannot but feel it very
sensibly in many respects.

I have indeed been very remiss in writing to you,
nor can allege any other excuse for it but the lowness
of spirits, which takes from me the power of doing
everything I ought; this is not altogether without
cause, for ever since I went last to town, in the be
ginning of November I have suffered a good deal
from a complaint, which I have often mentioned to
you, and which is now grown almost constant. I
have left off wine, eat less than common, have made
use of the common applications' in such cases, and am
now taking soap : yet find no essential amendment in
myself, so that I have but an uncomfortable prospect
before me, even if things remain as they are, but (I
own) what I apprehend, is still worse.

Mason has passed three weeks here with me in his

168 LETTERS.

way to town. The general report was, that he was
going to be married out of hand : but I find it was
only a faint sort of tendency that way, that may or
may not come to something of maturity just as the
season of the year shall incline him. The best I can
tell you of her is, that she is no fine lady, and the
worst, that her fortune is not large. Now you know
it might have been a fine lady with no money at all.
He still talks of visiting Old Park before he is tied
down to his summer residence.

This silly dirty place has had all its thoughts
taken up with choosing a new high steward, and had
not Lord Hardwicke surprisingly and to the shame of
the faculty recovered by a quack medicine, I believe
in my conscience the noble Earl of Sandwich had
been chosen, though (let me do them the justice to
say) not without a considerable opposition. His
principal Agents are Dr. Brook of St. John's, Mr.
Brocket, and Dr. Long, whose old tory notions, that
had long lain by neglected and forgotten, are brought
out again and furbished for present use, though rusty
and out of joint, like his own spheres and orreries.
Their crests are much fallen, and countenances length
ened by the transactions of last week, for the ministry
on Tuesday last (after sitting till near eight in the
morning) carried a small point by a majority of only
40, and on another previous division by one of 10
only; and on Friday last (at five in the morning)
there were 220 to 234, and by this the court only
obtained to adjourn the debate for four months, and

LETTERS. 169

not to get any declaration in favour of their measures.
If they hold their ground many weeks after this, I
shall wonder j but the new reign has already produced
many wonders. The other house I hear, will soon
take in hand a book lately published by some
scoundrel lawyer on the Prerogative, in which is
scraped together all the flattery and blasphemy of our
old law books in honour of kings. I presume, it is
understood, that the court will support the cause of
this impudent scribbler. There is another impudent
fellow of the same profession, but somewhat more
conspicuous by his place (a friend of yours, with
whom I supped at your house ten or eleven years
ago) that has gained to himself the most general and
universal detestation of any man perhaps in this age.
I congratulate you on your acquaintance with him.

Mr. Brown is preparing your grafts, which are to
be sent about a week hence, for that is the proper
time ; but as your parcels used to be carried to your
brother's, we are afraid they may be neglected there
in the present confusion. If you think so, you will
direct him forthwith to whom he may address them.

Pray tell me (when you are at leisure) all the
transactions and improvements of Old Park, that I
may rectify and model my ideas accordingly. What
has become of you in these inundations, that have
drowned us all, and in this hot and unseasonable
winter ? Present my respects to Mrs. Wharton, and
my compliments to Miss. How do the little family
do ? — I am ever sincerely yours.

170 LETTERS.

LXVI. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Cambridge, July 10, 1764.

DEAR DOCTOR — I do remember and shall ever remem
ber, as I ought, your extreme kindness in offering to
be present, and to assist me in the perilous hour.
When I received your letter, I was pleased to find, I
had done everything almost, that you advised. The
fault lay in deferring matters too long. Upon in
spection they found no reason to apprehend a fistula,
but the piles only in an extreme degree, that
threatened mortification. Nine or ten strokes of the
lancet, and the application of a caustic, with fomenta
tions innumerable I suffered manfully : indeed the
pain in idea is much greater than in reality, and now
I am glad, I know it. It is certain, I am better at
present, than I had been in at least a year before the
operation. I should tell you, that for some days
before I submitted to it, I had taken soap in large
quantities, and for aught I know the inflammation
might be rather increased by it. Dr. Whytt (I re
member) speaking of the use of lime-water and soap,
says, that if the patient be subject to the piles, he
must omit the latter. Towards the end of my con
finement, during which (you may believe) I lived on
nothing, came the gout in one foot, but so tame you
might have stroked it y1 such a minikin, you might have
played with it. In three or four days it disappeared.

1 George Montagu said of our last earthquake "that it was
so tame you might have stroked it. " — [ Walpole.]

LETTERS. 171

It was true, as Stonehewer told you, that I had a
great tendency towards Old Park and Hart le-pool :
but on prudent consideration I find, I cannot well
afford it, and must defer that pleasure to another
summer. The minikin and I act upon the same prin
ciples : she cannot be a river, nor I a traveller,
without money. If we had but a head, we should
both of us make a figure in the world.

Mason does not seem very impatient, for he writes
word, that he is busy in modelling antique vases in
clay,1 and in reading a course of ecclesiastical history,
when I expected consummation, and was praying
heaven to give him a good and gentle governess : no
man wants such a thing more in all senses ; but his
greatest wants do not make him move a foot the
faster, nor has he properly speaking anything one can
call a passion about him, except a little malice and
revenge.

Our election here is in Westminster Hall : but it is
not likely that any great matter can be done in it till
Michaelmas Term next; In the meantime Lord Sand
wich and his friends do what they can to keep up an
interest and a bustle. Here is a poor scribbler, that
he hires to write a weekly paper called the Scrutator,
who by abuse of characters does all in his power to
provoke people : but cannot so much as get himself
answered. I could not find any one in town, that ever
heard of it (though the subject is well known there),
and if anybody saw its name in the advertisements, I

1 An admirable employment for the arch-forger. — [Ed.}

172 LETTERS.

believe, they only took it for a scrutoire to be sold.
The Nation is in the same hands as the University,
and really does not make so manful a resistance.
Grumble indeed every one does, but since Wilkes's
affair, they fall off their metal, and seem to shrink
under the brazen hand of Norton l and his colleagues.
I hear there will be no parliament till after Christmas.
If the French should be so unwise as to suffer the
Spanish Court to go on in their present measures (for
they refuse to pay the ransom of Manilla, and have
driven away our logwood cutters already) down go
their friends the ministry, and all the schemes of right
divine, and prerogative; and this is perhaps the
best chance we have. Are you not struck with the
great similarity there is between the first years of
Charles I. and the present times? who would have
thought it possible five years ago ?

That old rogue Lord Bath is dead at last. I un
derstood the contest for his spoils lay between your
noble friend at Raby, and Mr. Coleman, the comic
poet, but whether they are fallen to either of them I
have not heard as yet. Pray what is the policy of
that castle 1 the elder brother lives more than usual
in the country, as if he were not in the best humour
with his friends at court, and the younger has been at
times an orator in the opposition ? Have they been
disobliged, or do they fear to disoblige their former
friends, who may come into play again 1

Two more volumes of Buffon are come over : I
1 Sir Fletcher Norton, Solicitor-General.

LETTERS. 173

mention them in case you choose to have them. I
know of nothing else, except half a dozen new works
of that inexhaustible, eternal, entertaining scribbler
Voltaire, who at last (I fear) will go to heaven, for
to him entirely it is owing, that the king of France
and his council have reviewed and set aside the deci
sion of the parliament of Thoulouse in the affair of
Galas.1 The poor man, 'tis true, has been broke on
the wheel long ago; but his widow and wretched
family may have some reparation, and his murtherers
may smart a little for it. You see a scribbler may be
of some use in the world !

If you see Stonehewer at his return from Buxton,
be so good to tell him, that there will be only 200
copies of Lord Herbert's Life 2 printed, half of which are
for Lord Powis, and the rest will be given away only.
If I happen to have two (which I do not expect) he
shall have one of them.

Ah ! poor James Lyon ! — how do the family bear
it 1 My best respects to the lady of Old Park (the
duchess I should say) and lady Mary, etc. I hope
they are all well. Are Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan with

1 Madame Suard asked Voltaire why he kept the melancholy
picture of the Calas family, which hung at the foot of his bed,
always before his eyes. He replied, that he had become identi
fied with them and their misfortunes, and that till he had
redeemed all that was redeemable then of their wrongs, he
should never laugh without feeling self-reproach. — [Mit.~\

2 The Life of Lord Herbert of Cherbury, for the first time
printed at the Strawberry Hill Press, in small 4to, in 1764.
200 copies. — [Mit.]

174 LETTERS.

you 1 Do you say your prayers o' nights ? Adieu !—
I am ever yours, T. G-.

Mr. Brown, who is quite well, presents his humble
service. He would wish to come to-morrow, only he
thinks it impossible, and does not believe anybody
did ever really go so far.

LXVII. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Southampton, October 13, 1764.

DEAR SIR — Since I have been here, I have received
from you, and by your means, five letters. That
from Pa. I could wish you had opened, as I know you,
by your good will, would have done. The sum of it
is, that he is at Geneva, with the Rhone tumbling
its blue and green tide directly under his window.
That he has passed a fortnight in the Pays de Vaud,
and the Cantons of Berne, Fribourg, and Soleure, and
returned by the lake of Neufchatel. That the whole
country, and particularly the last-named, appeared
to him astonishingly beautiful. He enquired much
after Rousseau, but did not meet with him; his
residence is at Moitier au Travers, about four leagues
from Neufchatel, where he lives in great plenty, the
booksellers at the Hague being his bank, and ready
to answer any sum he draws for. It is amazing what
he got by his last two books. He is often flying
about from village to village ; generally wears a sort
of Armenian dress, and passed for a kind of misan
thrope, but is held in great veneration by the people.

LETTERS. 175

He says, he saw all the matters that come in course
in France, and was greatly disappointed. The only
thing he mentions is the church at Amiens, which
was really fine. They set out in a few days (his date
is 19th September), and go by Chambery to Turin,
from whence he will write to you. His letter, he says,
is not worth the postage ; but it is the abundance and
not the want of matter that makes it so poor.

After this what shall I say to you of my Lilliputian
travels ? On Monday I think to see Salisbury, and
to be sure Wilton, and Amesbury, and Stonehenge.
This will take up three days, and then I come back
hither, and think to be in London on Saturday or
Monday after, for the weather grows untoward, and
the sea (that is, the little miniature of it, Southamp
ton River) rages horribly, and looks as if it would eat
one, else I should have gone to Lymington and Christ-
church, and called upon Mr. Mansfield in the New
Forest, to see the bow that killed William Rufus,
which he pretends to possess. Say not a word of
Andover. My Lord Delawar has erected a little
monument over the spot where, according to ancient
tradition, that king was slain, and another in God's
House Chapel, where the Earl of Cambridge, Lord
Scroop, and Sir Thomas Grey, were interred by Henry
V. after he had cut off their heads. It is in this
town, and now the French Church. Here lives Dr.
Saint Andre^1 famous for the affair of the Rabbit-
Woman, and for marrying Lady Betty Molyneux
1 Nathaniel St. Andre, surgeon.

176 LETTERS.

after they had disposed of her first husband. She
died not long since in the odour of sanctity. He is
80 years old and is now building a palazzino here
hard by, in a delightful spot called Bellevue, and has
lately produced a natural son to inherit it. What do
you say to poor Iwan, and the last Euss manifesto 1
Will nobody kill me that dragoness 1 Must we wait
till her son does it himself 1

Mr. Stonhewer has been at Glamis. He tells me
no news. He only confutes a piece of news I sent
him, which I am glad to hear is a lie. I must tell
you a small anecdote I just hear, that delights me.
Sir F. Norton1 has a mother living at a town in
Yorkshire, in a very indifferent lodging. A good house
was to be sold there the other day. He thought in
decency he ought to appear willing to buy it for her.
When the people to whom it belongs imagined that
everything was agreed on, he insisted on having two
pictures as fixtures, which they value at X60, so Mrs.
Norton lives where she did.

I am sorry for the Duke of Devonshire.2 The
cause, I fear, is losing ground, and I know the person
(where Mr. T.3 has lately been) looked upon all as
gone, if this event should happen. Adieu. When I

1 Sir Fletcher Norton, Attorney-General, afterwards Speaker
of the House of Commons, and in 1792 Lord Grantley. Died
1794 ; buried in Ripon Minster. — [Mit.~\

2 William, fourth Duke of Devonshire, died October 2,
1764, aged 44, at the German Spa ; buried at Allhallows,
Derby.— [MY.]

3 Probably Mr. Talbot, Fellow of Pembroke.— [Mit.]

LETTERS. 177

get to town I shall pick up something to tell you. —
I am ever yours.

I know nothing of Mason, but that he is well.
Southampton, at Mr Vining's, plumber, in High

Street.

LXVIII. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Monday, October 1764.

DEAR SIR — I received your letter before I left Lon
don, and sit down to write to you, after the finest
walk in the finest day that ever shone to Netley
Abbey — my old friend, with whom I longed to re
new my acquaintance. My ferryman (for one passes
over a little arm of the sea about half a mile) assured
me he would not go near it in the night-time for all
the world, tho' he knew much money had been found
there. The sun was " all too glaring and too full of
gauds" for such a scene, whch ought to be visited
only in the dusk of the evening. It stands in a little
quiet valley, whch gradually rises behind the ruins
into a half-circle crowned with thick wood. Before
it, on a descent, is a thicket of oaks, that serves to
veil it from the broad day and from profane eyes,
only leaving a peep on both sides, where the sea
appears glittering thro' the shade, and vessels, with
their white-sails, that glide across and are lost again.
Concealed behind the thicket stands a little Castle
(also in ruins), immediately on the shore, that com
mands a view over an expanse of sea clear and smooth
VOL. IIL N

178 LETTERS.

as glass (when I saw it), with Southampton and seve
ral villages three miles off to the right, Calshot Castle
at seven miles' distance, and the high lands of the
Isle of Wight to the left, and in front the deep shades
of the New Forest distinctly seen, because the water
is no more than three miles over. The abbey was
never very large. The shell of its church is almost
entire, but the pillars of the aisles are gone, and the
roof has tumbled in ; yet some little of it is left in
the transept, where the ivy has forced its way thro',
and hangs flaunting down among the fretted orna
ment and escutcheons of the Benefactors. Much of
the lodgings and offices are also standing, but all is
overgrown with trees and bushes, and mantled here
and there with ivy, that mounts over the battle
ments.

In my way I saw Winchester Cathedral again with
pleasure, and supped with Dr. Balguy, who, I perceive,
means to govern the Chapter. They give £200 a
year to the Poor of the City : his present scheme is
to take away this, for it is only an encouragement to
laziness. But what do they mean to do with it?
That indeed, I omitted to enquire, because I thought
I knew. I saw St. Cross, too, the almshouse of Noble
Poverty (so it was called), founded by Henry de
Blois and Cardinal Beaufort. It maintains nine de
cayed footmen, and a master (Chancellor Hoadly),
who has £800 a-year out of it.

This place is still full of Bathers. I know not a
soul, nor have once been at the rooms. The walks all

LETTERS. 179

round it are delicious, and so is the weather. Lodg
ings very dear, and fish very cheap. Here is no
coffee-house, no bookseller, no pastrycook ; but here
is the Duke of Chandos. I defer my politics. My
service to Mr. Talbot, Gould,1 etc., and to Mr. Howe,
if with you. — Adieu.

LXIX. — TO THE REV. N. NICHOLLS.

Monday, November 19, 1764.

SIR — I received your letter at Southampton, and, as
I would wish to treat everybody according to their
own rule and measure of good-breeding, have against
my inclination waited till now before I answered it,
purely out of fear and respect, and an ingenuous
diffidence of my own abilities. If you will not take
this as an excuse, accept it at least as a well-turned
period, which is always my principal concern.

So I proceed to tell you, that my health is much
improved by the sea ; not that I drank it, or bathed
in it, as the common people do. No ! I only walked
by it, and looked upon it. The climate is remarkably
mild, even in October and November. No snow has
been seen to lie there for these thirty years past, the
myrtles grow in the ground against the houses, and
Guernsey lilies bloom in every window. The town,
clean and well built, surrounded by its old stone walls,

1 Mr. Theodore Vine Gould, Fellow of New Hall, A.M.
1760. Mr. Thomas Talbot of Queen's College, A.M. 1764.
William Taylor Howe, of Pembroke College, A.B. 1760.— [Mit.]

180 LETTERS.

with their towers and gateways, stands at the point
of a peninsula, and opens full south to an arm of the
sea, which, having formed two beautiful bays on each
hand of it, stretches away in direct view till it joins
the British Channel. It is skirted on either side with
gently-rising grounds, clothed with thick wood ; and
directly cross its mouth rise the high lands of the Isle
of Wight, at distance, but distinctly seen. In the
bosom of the woods (concealed from profane eyes) lie
hid the ruins of Netteley Abbey. There may be
richer and greater houses of religion ; but the abbot
is content with his situation. See there, at the top
of that hanging meadow under the shade of those old
trees, that bend into a half circle about it, he is walk
ing slowly (good man !) and bidding his beads for the
souls of his benefactors, interred in that venerable
pile, that lies beneath him. Beyond it (the meadow
still descending) nods a thicket of oaks, that mask
the building, and have excluded a view too garish
and too luxuriant for a holy eye : only, on either
hand, they leave an opening to the blue glittering
sea. Did not you observe how, as that white sail
shot by and was lost, he turned and crossed himself,
to drive the tempter from him, that had thrown that
distraction in his way. I should tell you, that the
ferryman who rowed me, a lusty young fellow, told
me that he would not, for all the world, pass a night
at the Abbey (there were such things seen near it),
though there was a power of money hid there. From
thence I went to Salisbury, Wilton, and Stonehenge :

LETTEES. 181

but of these things I say no more, they will be pub
lished at the University press.

I have been at London this month, that tiresome
dull place ! where all people under thirty find so
much amusement. The Opera, with Manzuoli in it,
opens on Saturday, and I go to Cambridge the Wed
nesday preceding. The Ministry are all together by
the ears, so are the Opposition : the only doubt is
which will be the weakest : I am afraid I know. The
sentence of Alma Mater, of the North Briton, and of
D'Eon are deferred ; in the meantime, Du Yergy, the
adventurer who enraged D'Eon almost to madness,
and has been in jail (for debt) ever since December
last, having regained his liberty by the help (he says)
of his countrymen, declares upon oath that he was
sent from France with a half promise of being declared
secretary to the embassy, that he might se servir de
son epde, if occasion were, against D'Eon, or at least
urge him to do something that might for ever disgrace
him. He gives a detail of all his private conversa
tions with Guerchy and others on this head. Mons
de Guerchy is (I hear) much troubled ; declares the
whole a lie; but what is he to dol must he have
another plaidoyer in our courts against this scoundrel 1
and indeed from his own narrative he appears to be
no better, though it is interlarded with fine French
sentiment about justice, and virtue, and honour, and
such like.

I had prepared a finer period than the other to
finish with, but, damn it ! I have somehow mislaid it

182 LETTERS.

among my papers — you shall certainly have it next
summer. How can people subscribe such a devil of
a name (I warrant), you call it a Christian name, to
their letters as you do ? I always thought at times I
had a small matter of aversion for you mechanically
arising in me, and doubtless this was the reason.
Fie, fie, put on a white satin mantle, and be carried
to church again. However, I forgive you, for your
Eippon history's sake. Adieu ! I shall almost be
glad to see you again. T. G.

You friend Dr. Marriott1 came very kindly to see
me, as soon as he had taken possession of his new
mastership, and returned me his thanks for my civil
ities to you ; so never say any more on that head :
you see I am paid.

LXX. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Jermyn Street,
Thursday, October 25, 1764.

DEAR SIR — I am returned from Southampton, since
Monday last ; have been at Salisbury, Wilton, Stone-
henge, and where not, and am not at all the worse
for my expedition. Delly 2 has been here, and talks
of going to Cambridge on Wednesday, if you want

1 Dr. Marriott, afterwards Sir James Marriott, became LL.D.
in 1757, Master of Trinity Hall in 1764, and continued so for
nearly forty years. He was knighted about the time of his
becoming Master, or perhaps a very few years after. — [Hit.}

2 Delaval, Fellow of Pembroke, mentioned before.

LETTERS. 183

him; but, if you do not, would be glad to be pre
vented by a letter. His intention is only to stay
there a day or two. He asked me for my rooms, but
as I had (intentionally) promised them to Mr. Maple-
toft, I answered as if I had actually been engaged on
that head, and had already wrote to you to say so.
If Mr. Mapletoft1 does not come, they are at Mr.
Delly's service.

The present news is that Lady Harriet Went-
worth (Lord Eockingham's sister), not a young or a
beautiful maiden, has married her servant, an Irish
footman.

Mr. Mason, who has been in Yorkshire, has seen
the future bride. She has just such a nose as Mason
has himself ; so you see it was made in heaven.

The rent-roll of the present Duke of Devonshire's
estate is £44,000 a-year. Lord Eichard has better
than £4000 a-year ; Lady Dorothy £30,000 ; a legacy
of £500 to General Conway; £500 apiece to the
three brothers, and they are appointed guardians,
and, I think, executors — business enough, in con
science. To-day I hear the Cambridge affair is com
promised, and Lord Hardwicke to come in quietly.
This I should not give credit to had I not heard it
before I came from thence. The Duke of Cumber
land, they say, is in a very good way : it is strange
to me if he recovers.

I will write soon again, and try to tell you more,
for I shall stay in town about a fortnight longer.
1 John Mapletoft, of Pembroke College, A.M. 1764.

184 LETTERS.

You will oblige me if you will send to enquire how
Dolly Antrobus l does. Adieu. — I am ever yours,

T. G.

LXXL — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Monday, October 29, 1764.

DEAR SIR — I was not able to answer your letter on
Saturday, but Delly will certainly be with you on
Wednesday, good man.

The Duke of Devonshire for the last fortnight of
his life was in a state of infancy. On opening his
head there were found two fleshy substances that
pressed upon the brain — the source of his malady.
He leaves Devonshire House, with the pictures,
furniture, etc., to Lord Eichard, his second son,
which the present duke may redeem by paying down
£20,000 > in short, to Lord Eichard and Lord George
(for there are two) he gives about £4000 a-year apiece;
the rest I think I told you before. The majority do
not exult upon this death; they are modest and
humble, being all together by the ears ; so, indeed are
the minority too. I hear nothing about the Cam
bridge affair, and you do not tell me whether my last
news was true; I conclude not, for I am told the
Yorkes are very fully and explicitly against the
present measures — even their chief himself.

The present talk runs on Lady Harriet Wentworth

1 Gray's cousin, for whom he had obtained the office of post
mistress at Cambridge. — [Ed.]

LETTERS. 185

(that is her name since she married her Irish footman).
Your friend the Marquis of Kockingham's sister is a
sensible, well-educated woman; twenty-seven years
old, indeed, and homely enough. O'Brien and his
lady (big with child) are embarked for America, to
cultivate their 40,000 acres of woodland. Before
they went, her uncle made him enter himself at
Lincoln's Inn; I suppose to give him the idea of
returning home again.

I hope not to stay here above a fortnight, but in
the meantime should be glad if you would inform me
what is the sum total of my bill. Adieu. — I am ever
yours, T. G.

As I have room, I shall tell you that, on the news
of the Duke of Cumberland's illness at Newmarket,
Lord S. coming out of the closet met a great butcherly
lord with a white staff,1 and, with a countenance very
decent and composed to sorrow, told him they had
extreme bad news; that his Royal Highness the
Duke was so ill it was doubtful whether he could
live till next day.2 The other replied, "Bad news,
do you call it 1 By God, I am very glad of it, and
shall be to hear the same of all that do not love the
King."

My service to Mr. Tfalbot]. I am glad to hear he
is well.

1 Lord Talbot, Lord Steward. Lord S. is probably Lord
Sandwich, the Secretary of State. — [Mit.~\

2 He died in Upper Grosvenor Street, 31st October 1765.—
[MX.]

186 LETTERS.

LXXII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Cambridge, Thursday, November, 1764.
DEAR MR. MASON — As you are alone and not quite
well, I do feel a little sort of (I am almost ashamed
to speak it) tenderness for you, but then I comfort
myself with the thought that it does not proceed from
any remnant of old inclination or kindness that I
have for you. That, you must allow, would be folly,
as our places of abode are so distant, and our occupa
tions and pursuits so different. But the true cause is,
that I am pretty lonely too, and besides have a com
plaint in my eyes that possibly may end in blindness.
It consists in not being able to read at all with one
eye, and having very often the muscce wlitantes before
the other. I may be allowed therefore to think a
little of you and Delaval, without any disparagement
to my knowledge of mankind and of human nature.

The match you talk of is no more consummated
than your own, and Kitty1 is still a maid for the
Doctor, so that he wants the requisite thing, and yet,
I'll be sworn, his happiness is very little impaired.
I take broiled salmon to be a dish much more neces
sary at your table than his. I had heard in town (as
you have) that they were married ; and longed to go
to Spilsby and make them a visit ; but here I learn it
is not true yet, whatever it may be. I read and
liked the Epigram 2 as it was printed, and do insist

1 Kitty Hunter and Dr. Delap.

8 I possess several of Mason's political and personal epi-

LETTERS. 187

it is better without the last lines, not that the thought
is amiss, but because the same rhyme is repeated, and
the sting is not in the epigrammatic style ; I mean,
not easy and familiar. In a satire it might do very
well. Mr. Churchill is dead indeed,1 drowned in a
butt of claret, which was tapped on the meeting of the
Friends at Boulogne. He made an excellent end, as
his executor Humphrey Cotes2 testifies. I did not
write any of the elegies, being busy in writing the
Temple of Tragedy. Send for it forthwith, for you are
highly interested in it. If I had not owned the thing,
perhaps you might have gone and taken it for the
Eeverend Mr. Langhorne's. It is divine. I have not
read the Philosophic Dictionary. I can stay with great
patience for anything that comes from Voltaire. They
tell- me it is frippery, and blasphemy, and wit. I
could have forgiven myself if I had not read Kousseau's
Letters. Always excepting the Contract Social, it is the
dullest performance he ever published. It is a weak
attempt to separate the miracles from the morality of
the Gospel. The latter he would have you think he
believes was sent from God, and the former he very

grams, which "Walpole used to insert for him in the Evening
Post, but do not recognise the one here alluded to. Those
against the king are written in the bitterest feeling of personal
animosity. — \Mit. ]

1 The poet Charles Churchill died at Boulogne, November
4, 1764.— [£».]

2 A friend of Churchill (brother of Admiral Cotes), and a
wine merchant and political character. He was with Churchill
when he died, on a visit to Wilkes at Boulogne. — [Mit.]

188 LETTERS.

explicitly takes for an imposture. This is in order
to prove the cruelty and injustice of the State of
Geneva in burning his Emile. The latter part of his
book is to shew the abuses that have crept into the
constitution of his country, which point (if you are
concerned about it) he makes out very well, and his
intention in this is plainly to raise a tumult in the
city, and to be revenged on the Petit Conseil, who
condemned his writings to the flames.

Cambridge itself is fruitful enough of events to
furnish out many paragraphs in my Gazette. The
most important is, that Frog Walker1 is dead; his
last words were (as the nurses sat by him and said,
"Ah! poor gentleman, he is going!"); "Going,
going ! where am I going 1 I'm sure I know no more
than the man in the moon." Doctor Eidlington2 has
been given over with a dropsy these ten weeks. He
refused all tapping and scarifying, but obeyed other
directions, till, finding all was over, he prescribed to
himself a boiled chicken entire, and five quarts of
small beer. After this he brought up great quantities
of blood, the swelling and suffocation, and all signs
of water disappeared, his spirits returned, and, except

1 This is Doctor Richard Walker, Fellow and Vice-Master
of Trinity College, and Professor of Moral Theology from 1744
to 1764 ; founder of the Botanic Gardens at Cambridge. He
is also the person quoted by Pope in the Dunciad (Book iv.
273) as the obsequious attendant on Bentley, "Walker, my
hat !" He was called Frog Walker from his having served a
curacy in the /en-country at Upwell. — [Mit.]

2 Professor of Civil Law.

LETTERS. 189

extreme weakness, lie is recovered. Everybody has
ceased to enquire after him, and, as he would not die
when he should, they are resolved to proceed as if
he were dead and buried. Dr. Newcome l is dead.
For six weeks or more before his death he was dis
tracted, not childish, but really raving. For the last
three weeks he took no nourishment but by force.
Miss Kirke and the younger Beadon2 are executors
and residuary legatees. I believe, he left about
,£10,000, but there are "many legacies. Had I a pen
of adamant, I could not describe the business, the
agitation, the tempest, the University is in about the
Margaret Professorship.3 Only D.D.'s and B.D.'s
have votes, so that there are acts upon acts. The bell
is eternally tolling, as- in time of pestilence, and no
body knows whose turn it may be next. The candi
dates are Dr. Law and Z. Brooke and my Lord
Sandwich. The day is Saturday next. But alas !
what is this to the warm region of Saint John's ? It is
like Lisbon on the day of the earthquake ; it is like

1 Dean of Rochester, elected Margaret Professor of Divinity
in 1727, Master of St. John's in 1735, and was succeeded by
Zachary Brooke as Margaret Professor, and as Master of St.
John's by Dr. Powell. He died 10th January 1765, set. 82. —
[Mit.]

2 Richard Beadon, Fellow of St. John's, afterwards Public
Orator, Master of Jesus, and Bishop of Gloucester and Bath. —
[Mit.]

3 In 1765 Zachary Brooke, of St. John's, was elected
Margaret Professor, vacated by Dr. John Newcome's death.
He was also Dean of Rochester, and was succeeded in 1788 by
J. Mainwaring, D.D.— [Mit.]

190 LETTERS.

the fire of London. I can hear and smell it hither.
Here too appears the furious Zachary ; but his forces
are but three or four men. Here towers Doctor
Eutherforth,1 himself an host, and he has about
three champions. There Skinner,2 with his power
ful oratory, and the decent Mr. Alvis,3 with their
several invisible squadrons : Ogden and Gunning 4
each fighting for himself, and disdaining the assistance
of others. But see, where Frampton,5 with his 17
votes, and on his buckler glitters the formidable name
of Sandwich, at which fiends tremble. Last of all
comes, with his mines and countermines, and old
Newcastle at his back, the irresistible force of Powell.6
23 are a majority, and he has already 22J. If it
lapses to the Seniors he has it; if it lapses to the
Visitor he has it. In short, as we all believe, he has

1 Dr. Rutherford, Fellow of St. John's and Regius Professor
of Divinity.— [Mit.]

2 John Skynner, Fellow of St. John's, Sub-Dean of York,
and Public Orator from 1752 to 1762. He died May 25, 1805,
aged 81.— [Mit.]

3 Andrew Alvis, Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge,
M.A. 1738. Rector of Great Snoring, Norfolk, 1763 or 1764.
Died May 25, 1775.— [Mit.]

4 Probably Stuart Gunning, Fellow of St. John's College in
1745, whose successor, Thomas Doyly, was elected in March
1766.— [Mit.]

5 Thomas Frampton, Fellow of St. John's College, A.M.
1751, B.D. 1759.— [Mit.]

6 William Samuel Powell, elected Master of St. John's
College in 1764, which he held till 1775. His sermons received
the highest praise from the highest authorities. He died
January 19, 1775, aged 58.— [Mit.]

LETTERS. 191

it every way. I know you are overjoyed, especially
for that he has the Newcastle interest. I have had a
very civil visit of two hours from Archimage, busy
as he is ; for you know I inherit all your old acquaint
ance, as I do all Delaval's old distempers. I visited
Dr. Balguy the other day at Winchester, and he me
at Southampton. We are as great as two peas. The
day of election at Saint John's is Friday se'nnight.

Mr. Brown is well, and has forgot you. Mr.
Nicholls is profuse of his thanks to me for your
civilities to him at York, of which, God knows, I
knew no more than the man in the moon. Adieu.

LXXIII. — TO HORACE WALPOLE.

Sunday, December 30, 1764.

I HAVE received the Castle of Otmnto, and return
you my thanks for it. It engages our attention
here,1 makes some of us cry a little, and all in general
afraid to go to bed o' nights. We take it for a trans
lation, and should believe it to be a true story, if it
were not for St. Nicholas.

When your pen was in your hand you might have
been a little more communicative, for though disposed
enough to believe the opposition rather consumptive,
I am entirely ignorant of all the symptoms. Your
canonical book I have been reading with great satis
faction. He speaketh as one having authority. If
Englishmen have any feeling left, methinks they must
1 At Cambridge.

192 LETTERS.

feel now ; and if the Ministry have any feeling (whom
nobody will suspect of insensibility) they must cut
off the author's ears, for it is in all the forms a most
wicked libel. Is the old man and the lawyer put on,
or is it real? or has some real lawyer furnished a
good part of the materials, and another person em
ployed them ? This I guess ; for there is an uncouth-
ness of diction in the beginning which is not supported
throughout, though it now and then occurs again, as
if the writer1 was weary of supporting the character
he had assumed, when the subject had warmed him,
beyond dissimulation.

Rousseau's Letters'21 I am reading heavily, heavily !
He justifies himself, till he convinces me that he
deserved to be burnt, at least that his book did.
I am not got through him, and you never will.
Voltaire I detest, and have not seen his book : I
shall in good time. You surprise me, when you talk
of going in February.3 Pray, does all the minority
go too 1 I hope you have a reason. Desperare de re-
puUica is a deadly sin in politics.

Adieu ! I will not take my leave of you ; for

1 Mr. Gray may probably allude to a Pamphlet called "A
Letter concerning Libels, Warrants, Seizure of Papers, and
Security for the Peace or Behaviour, with a View to some late
Proceedings, and the Defence of them by the Majority :"-
supposed to have been written by William Greaves, Esq., a
Master in Chancery, under the inspection of the late Lord
Camden.— [Ed. of Walpole's Works.]

2 The Lettres de la Montague.

3 To Paris.

LETTERS. 193

(you perceive) this letter means to beg another, when
you can spare a little.

LXXIV. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM PALGRAVE.1

March 1765.

MY instructions, of which you are so desirous, are
twofold : the first part relates to what is past, and
that will be rather diffuse : the second, to what is to
come • and that we shall treat more succinctly, and
with all due brevity.

First, when you come to Paris you will not fail to
visit the cloister of the Chartreuse, where Le Sueur
(in the history of St. Bruno) has almost equalled
Kaphael. Then your Gothic inclinations will natur
ally lead you to the Sainte Chapelle built by St.
Louis : in the treasury is preserved one of the noblest
gems of the Augustan age. When you take a trip
into the country, there is a fine old chapel at Vin-
cennes with admirable painted windows; and at
Fontainbleau, the remains of Francis the First's mag
nificence might give you some pleasure. In your
way to Lyons you will take notice of the view over
the Saone, from about Tournus and Macon. Fail
not to walk a few miles along the banks of the
Ehone, down the river. I would certainly make a
little journey to the Grande Chartreuse, up the moun
tains : at your return out of Italy this will have little

1 Mr. Gray's correspondent was now making the tour of
France and Italy. — [Mason.]

VOL. III. 0

194 LETTEKS.

effect. At Turin you will visit the Capuchins' con
vent just without the city, and the Superga at no
great distance, for the sake of the views. At Genoa
observe the Terreno of the Palace Brignoli, as a
model of an apartment elegantly disposed in a hot
climate. At Parma you will adore the great Madonna
and St. Jerom, once at St. Antonio Abbate, but now
(I am told) in the Ducal Palace. In the Madonna
della Steccata observe the Moses breaking the tables,
a chiaroscuro figure of the Parmeggiano at too great
a height, and ill-lighted, but immense. At the Capu
chins, the great Pieta of Annib. Carracci ; in the Villa
Ducale, the room painted by Carlo Cignani ; and the
last works of Agostino Caracci at Modena.1 I know

1 When our Author was himself in Italy, he studied with
much attention the different manners of the old masters. I find
a paper written at the time in which he has set down several
subjects proper for painting, which he had never seen executed,
and has affixed the names of different masters to each piece, to
shew which of their pencils he thought would have been most
proper to treat it. As I doubt not that this paper will be an ac
ceptable present to the Reynoldses and Wests of the age, I shall
here insert it. — [Mason.]

An Altar Piece. — Guido.

The top, a Heaven ; in the middle, at a distance, the Padre-
Eterno indistinctly seen, and lost, as it were, in glory. On
either hand, Angels of all degrees in attitudes of adoration
and wonder. A little lower, and next the eye, supported on
the wings of Seraphs, Christ (the principal figure) with an
air of calm and serene majesty, his hand extended, as com
manding the elements to their several places : near him an
Angel of superior rank bearing the golden compasses (that
Milton describes) ; beneath the Chaos, like a dark and turbu-

LETTERS. 195

not what remains now, the flower of the collection is
gone to Dresden. Bologna is too vast a subject for
me to treat : the palaces and churches are open ; you
have nothing to do but to see them all. In coming
down the Appennine you will see (if the sun shines)

lent ocean, only illumined by the Spirit, who is brooding
over it.

A small Picture. — Correggio.

Eve newly created, admiring her own shadow in the lake.

The famous Venus of this master, now in the possession
of Sir William Hamilton, proves how judiciously Mr. Gray
fixed upon his pencil for the execution of this charming sub
ject. — [ Mason. ]

Another. — Domenichino.

Medea in a pensive posture, with revenge and maternal
affection striving in her visage ; her two children at play,
sporting with one another before her. On one side a bust of
Jason, to which they bear some resemblance.

A Statue. — Michael Angelo.

Agave in the moment she returns to her senses ; the head
of her Son, fallen on the ground from her hand.

A Picture. — Salvator Rosa.

JEneas and the Sybil sacrificing to Pluto by torch light in
the wood, the assistants in a fright. The Day beginning to
break, so as dimly to shew the mouth of the cavern.

Sigisrnonda with the heart of Guiscardo before her. I have
seen a small print on this subject, where the expression is
admirable, said to be graven from a picture of Correggio.

Afterwards, when he had seen the original in the possession of
the late Sir Luke Schaub, he always expressed the highest
admiration of it ; though we see, by his here giving it to Salvator
Rosa, he thought the subject too horrid to be treated by Correggio ;
and indeed I believe it is agreed that the capital picture in
question is not of his hand. — [Mason.]

196 LETTERS.

all Tuscany before you. And so I have brought you
to Florence, where to be sure there is nothing worth
seeing. Secondly,

1. Vide, quodcunque videndum est.

2. Quodcunque ego non vidi, id tu vide.

Another. — Albano, or the Parmeggiano.
Iphigenia asleep by the fountain side, her maids about her ;
Cymon gazing and laughing.

Another. — Domenichino, or the Carracci.
Electra with the urn, in which she imagined were her
Brother's ashes, lamenting over them; Orestes smothering

his concern.

Another. — Correggio.

Ithuriel and Zephon entering the bower of Adam and Eve ;
they sleeping. The light to proceed from the Angels.

Another. — Nicholas Poussin.

Alcestis dying ; her children weeping, and hanging upon her
robe ; the youngest of them, a little boy, crying too, but ap
pearing rather to do so, because the others are afflicted, than
from any sense of the reason of their sorrow : her right arm
should be round this, her left extended towards the rest, as
recommending them to her Lord's care ; he fainting, and sup
ported by the attendants.

Salvator Kosa.

Hannibal passing the Alps ; the mountaineers rolling down
rocks upon his army ; elephants tumbling down the precipices.

Another. — Domenichino.

Arria giving Claudius's order to Psetus, and stabbing herself
at the same time.

N. Poussin, or Le Seur.

Virginins murdering his daughter ; Appius at a distance,
starting up from his tribunal ; the people amazed, but few of
them seeing the action itself.

[Gray, as quoted by Mason.]

LETTERS. 197

3. Quodcunque videris, scribe & describe; memoria
ne fide.

4. Scribendo nil admirare ; & cum pictor non sis,
verbis omnia depinge.

5. Tritam viatorum compitam calca, & cum poteris,
desere.

6. Erne, quodcunque emendum est; I do not
mean pictures, medals, gems, drawings, etc., only;
but clothes, stockings, shoes, handkerchiefs, little
moveables; everything you may want all your life
long : but have a care of the custom house.

Pray, present my most respectful compliments to
Mr. Weddell.1 I conclude when the winter is over,
and you have seen Eome and Naples, you will strike
out of the beaten path of English travellers, and see
a little of the country, throw yourselves into the
bosom of the Appennine, survey the horrid lake of
Amsanctus (look in Cluver's Italy); catch the breezes
on the coast of Taranto and Salerno, expatiate to the
very toe of the continent, perhaps strike over the
Faro of Messina, and having measured the gigantic
columns of Girgenti, and the tremendous caverns of
Syracusa, refresh yourselves amidst the fragrant vale
of Enna. Oh ! che bel riposo ! Addio.

1 William Weddell, Esq., of Ne why, in Yorkshire.— [Mason.]

198 LETTERS.

LXXV. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke Hall, Saturday, 1765.

DEAR MASON — I rejoice ; but has she common sense?1
Is she a gentlewoman 1 Has she money ? Has she a
nose 1 I know she sings a little, and twiddles on the
harpsichord, hammers at sentiment, and puts herself
in an attitude, admires a cast in the eye, and can say
Elfrida by heart. But these are only the virtues of
a maid. Do let her have some wifelike qualities,
and a double portion of prudence, as she will have not
only herself to govern, but you also, and that with an
absolute sway. Your friends, I doubt not, will suffer
for it. However, we are very happy, and have no
other wish than to see you settled in the world. We
beg you would not stand fiddling about it, but be
married forthwith, and then take chaise, and come
... all the way to Cambridge to be touched by Mr.
Brown, and so to London, where, to be sure, she must
pass the first winter. If good reasons (and not your
own nor her coquetry) forbid this, yet come hither
yourself, for our copuses and Welsh rabbits are im
patient for you.

I sent your letter to Algarotti directly. My
Coserella came a long while ago from Mr. Holies, I

1 Mason married on the 25th of September 1765 the
daughter of William Sherman, Esq., of Hull, who died at
Bristol, March 27, 1767. "Ah ! amantissima, optima, foemina
vale ! " was a note written by Mason, which I found among his
manuscripts. — [Mit. ]

LETTEES. 199

suppose, who sent me, without a name, a set of his
engravings, when I was last in town ; which, I reckon,
is what you mean by your fine presents. The Con-
gresso di Citera was not one of the books. That was
my mistake. I like his treatises very well.

I hope in God the dedicatorial sonnet has not staid
for me. I object nothing to the second line, but like
it the better for Milton, and with him too I would
read in penult, (give me a shilling) "his ghastly smile,"1
etc. But if you won't put it in, then read " wonted
smile," and a little before " secure from envy." I see
nothing to alter. What I said was the best line is
the best line still. Do come hither, and I will read
and criticise "your amorous ditties all a winter's
day." Adieu, I am truly yours. I hope her hair is
not red though. I have been abroad, or I had wrote
sooner.

LXXVI. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Cambridge, April 29, 1765.

DEAR DOCTOR — I have lately heard, that you have
been very ill, and that in the midst of your illness
your poor sister Ettrick was obliged to fly from her
persecutor, and put herself under your protection.
Pray inform me, as soon as you can, of the state of
your health in the first place; and next, how you
have been able to secure a poor frighted woman

1 A jocose allusion to what Gray, in another place, calls Lord
Holdernesse's ugly face. — [Mit.~[

200 LETTERS.

from the brutality of such a husband, which under
our excellent constitution (I take it) is rather a more
difficult thing, than it would be in Turkey.

For me, I passed the latter part of the last Autumn
at Southampton all alone (for I went to no rooms, nor
saw any company, as they call it) in a most beautiful
country, and very gentle climate. The air and the
walks agreed with me wonderfully. The sea-water I
scarce tried (as the winter approached) enough to say,
whether it would suit me, or not. Sometime after I
returned hither, came the gout in both feet succes
sively, very gentle as to pain, but it left a weakness
and sense of lassitude behind it, that even yet is not
wholly dissipated. I have a great propensity to
Hartlepool this summer, it is in your neighbourhood,
and that is to make up for climate and for trees. The
sea, the turf, and the rocks, I remember, have merit
enough of their own. Mr. Brown is so invincibly
attach'd to his duties of treasurer and tutor, and I
know not what, that I give up all hopes of bringing
him with me ; nor do I (till I have been at London)
speak determinately as to myself : perhaps I may
find good reasons (against my inclination) to change
my mind.

Your mother, the University, has succeeded in her
great cause against the Secretary of State. Ld> Hard-
wicke is declared duly elected by a majority of one
voice. All the Judges of the King's Bench took
occasion to declare their opinion in set speeches on
the question; I suppose, in order to gain a little

LETTERS. 201

popularity, for whatever seems against Lord S[and-
wich], must be popular. Ld- Mansfield was express
on two points, that the Universities were not subject
to any Eoyal Visitations, but might always apply to
and receive redress from his Majesty's Courts of
Justice ; and that they were bound by no statutes,
but such as they themselves had thought fit to receive.
These things are doubtless of far more consequence
to them than the cause in question, for which I am
the less concerned, because I do believe the two Pre
tenders had (privately) agreed the matter before-hand,
for the House of Yorke have undoubtedly been long
making up to the Court. I should tell you, that Dr.
Long's affidavit was only begun to be read, and laid
aside as of no consequence. I suppose you know by
this time, that our friend the Bishop of Chester l was
the private Ambassador of Ld> Sandwich to this place,
and made proposals in his name. He also was present
on the side of that worthy nobleman at the remark
able interview with Mr. Charles Yorke. It is certain
he refused the Archbishoprick of Armagh ; but why,
I cannot yet learn : some say, because they intended to
quarter so many pensions upon it : others, because they
would keep to themselves the disposal of all the pre
ferments. But neither of these seem to be sufficient
reasons. It is sure, he wrote circular letters to his
friends to acquaint them of this refusal, and that he
was snubbed for doing so. Whereas Bp> Newton, to
whom it was first offered, made a great secret of it, as
1 Dr. Edmund Keene.

202 LETTERS.

a good courtier should do. Now I am talking of
Bishops, I must tell you, that not long ago Bp> War-
burton in a sermon at Court asserted, that all prefer
ments were bestowed on the most illiterate and
worthless objects, and in speaking turned himself
about and stared directly at the Bp> of London, he
added, that if any one arose distinguished for merit
and learning, there was a combination of dunces to
keep him down. I need not tell you, that he ex
pected the Bishoprick of London himself, when Terrick
got it. So ends my ecclesiastical history.

Our friend, the Precentor,1 who has so long been in
a mariturient way, is not yet married, and I doubt, it
is all gone off. I dare not ask about it, but if I go
northward, shall take him in my way, and see, whether
he will tell me. Present my best compliments to
Mrs. Wharton, and Miss. I have no idea of the
family at present, and expect to see a multitude of
little new faces, that know not Joseph. — Adieu ! dear
Sir, I am ever most sincerely yours, T. G.

I hear, you are well again : but pray tell me, how
well.

LXXVII. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

London, Tuesday night [April or May], 1765.
DEAR SIR — I hope to be with you by Thursday or
Friday se'nnight. You will hardly go before that
time out of college ; but if you do, the writings will

1 Mason.

LETTERS. 203

be as safe in your drawers as in mine. You have
heard so much news from the party that were going
to Scotland, that it would be a vain thing for me to
talk about it. I can only add, that you will shortly
hear, I think, of a great change of affairs, which,
whenever I come to town, always follows. To-day I
met with a report that Mr. Pitt lies dangerously ill ;
but I hope, and rather believe, it is not true. When
he is gone all is gone, and England will be old Eng
land again, such as, before his administration, it
always was ever since we were born.

I went to-day to Becket's to look at the last volume
of SEBA.1 It comes unbound to four guineas and a
half, and contains all the insects of that collection
(which are exceedingly numerous), and some plates
of fossils. The graving, as usual, very unequal, and
the descriptions as poor as ever. As you have the
rest, I conclude you must have this, which completes
the work, and contains the index.

Are you not glad of the Carlisle 2 history 1
Walking yesterday in the Windsor Park, I met the
brother of the disgraced party, and walked two hours
with him. I had a vast inclination to wish him joy,
but did not dare. Adieu. — I am ever yours,

T. G.

1 Locupletissimi Eerum Naturalium Thesauri accurata
Descriptio, etc., digessit, descripsit, dSpingendarum curavit
Albertus Seba. 4 vols. fol., Amst., 1734-1765.

2 This is an allusion to the well-known duel between Lord
Byron and Mr. Chaworth, in which the latter was killed. —
[Mit.]

204 LETTERS.

LXXVIIL— TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Jermyn Street, May 23 [1765]?

DEAR MASON — In my way into the remote parts of
the north, I mean to make you a visit at York ; prob
ably you will see me there on Wednesday next in
the evening. It is your business to consider whether
you have a house and a tea for me, for I shall stay
there a week perhaps, if you continue agreeable so
long. I have been in town this month, every day
teeming with prodigies. I suppose you receive ex
presses every three hours, and therefore I pass over
the Regency Bill, the weavers' petition, the siege of
Bedford House, the riot on Ludgate Hill, the royal
embassy to Hayes, the carte blanche refused with dis
dain, the subversion of the ministry, which fights to
the last gasp, and afterwards like the man che com-
battea e era morto, and yet stands upon its legs and
spits in its master's face to this day because nobody
will deign to take its place ; the House of Commons
standing at gaze with its hands before it ; the House
of Lords bullying the justices of peace, and fining the

printers ; the King , etc. etc. The rest is left

to oral tradition. Adieu !

LETTERS. 205

LXXIX. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

York, Thursday, June 6, 1765.

DEAR DOCTOR — Here am I (thanks to Mr. Precen
tor's1 hospitality), laid up with the gout : yet as to
day I begin to walk again about the house on two
legs, I natter myself, I shall be able to see you next
week at Old Park. As to mine host of the Minster
his eyes are very bad (in imitation of Horace) and
he is besides tied down here to residence : yet he
talks, as if we might chance to see him in the bishop-
rick during the summer for a little while. His com
pliments join themselves to mine, and beg you would
present them to Mrs. Wharton, and the numerous
family. Adieu. No Mr. Brown ! he is immersed
too deep in Quintilian and Livy.

LXXX. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

July 16, 1765.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE to Mrs. ANNE, Regular Servant
to the Rev. Mr. PRECENTOR, of York.

A moment's patience, gentle Mistris Anne
(But stint your clack for sweet St. Charitie) :

"Us Willey begs, once a right proper man,
Though now a book, and interleav'd you see.

Much have I borne from canker' d critic's spite,
From fumbling baronets, and poets small,

1 Mason.

206 LETTERS.

Pert barristers, and parsons nothing bright :

But what awaits me now is worst of all.
'Tis true, our master's temper natural

"Was fashion'd fair in meek and dove-like guise ;
But may not honey's self be turn'd to gall

By residence, by marriage, and sore eyes ?
If then he wreak on me his wicked will,

Steal to his closet at the hour of prayer ;
And (when thou hear'st the organ piping shrill)

Grease his best pen, and all he scribbles, tear.
Better to bottom tarts and cheesecakes nice,

Better the roast meat from the fire to save,
Better be twisted into caps for spice,

Than thus be patch'd and cobbled in one's grave.
So York shall taste what Clouet never knew,

So from our works sublimer fumes shall rise ;
While Nancy earns the praise to Shakespeare due,

For glorious puddings and immortal pies.

Tell me if you do not like this, and I will send
you a worse. I rejoice to hear your eyes are better,
as much as if they were my own ; but the cure will
never be lasting without a little sea. I have been
for two days at Hartlepool to taste the waters, and
do assure you nothing can be salter, and bitterer,
and nastier, and better for you. They have a most
antiscorbutic flavour I am delighted with the place.
There are the finest walks, and rocks, and caverns,
and dried fishes, and all manner of small incon
veniences a man can wish. I am going again this
week, so wait your commands.

Dr. Wharton would be quite happy to see you at
Old Park. If you should have kindness and resigna
tion enough to come, you must get to Darlington,
then turn off" the great road to Merrington, then

LETTERS. 207

enquire the way to Spennymoor House, where they
will direct you hither. Adieu, I am ever yours,

T. G.

LXXXI.— TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Old Park, Thursday, August 1765.

DEAR SIR — It is true I have been lately a very in
different correspondent, but poverty knows no law,
and must be my excuse. Since the fortnight I passed
with Mason at York (who was then very bad with
that troublesome defluxion in his eyes, and is since
cured, and now stands on the brink of marriage), I
have been always resident at Old Park, excursions
excepted of a day or two at a time, and one lately of
three weeks to Hartlepool. The rocks, the sea, and
the weather there more than made up to me the
want of bread and the want of water, two capital
defects, but of which I learned from the inhabitants
not to be sensible. They live on the refuse of their
own fish-market, with a few potatoes, and a reasonable
quantity of geneva, six days in the week, and I have
nowhere seen a taller, more robust, or healthy race ;
every house full of ruddy broad-faced children ; no
body dies but of drowning or old age; nobody
poor but from drunkenness or mere laziness. I had
long wished for a storm, and was treated before I
came away with such a one as July could produce ;
but the waves did not rise above twelve feet high,
and there was no hurt done. On Monday (I believe)

208 LETTERS.

I go to Scotland with my lord,1 and Tom and the
Major. No ladies are of the party, they remain at
Hetton;2 yet I do not expect to see anything, for
we go post till I come to Glamis.

I hear of Palgrave's safe arrival in England. Pray
congratulate him from me, and beg he would not give
away all his pictures and gems till I come. I hope
to see him in October. Is it true that young Tyrrell
does not go into orders'? Dr. Hallifax (who was
here with Dr. Lowth) tells me, that Eidlington3 is on
his way to Nice. The last letter you sent me was
from Mr. Ramsey, a tenant of mine in Cornhill, who
wants to see me anent particular business. As I
know not what it is I go with a little uneasiness on
my mind farther north. But what can one do ? I
have told him my situation.

The Doctor and Mrs. Wharton wish for you often,
though in vain ; such is your perverseness. Adieu ;
I will write again from Scotland more at large. — I
am, ever sincerely yours, T. G.

Are you not glad for Stonhewer ? I have heard
twice from him, but it is sub sigillo.

1 Lord Strathmore and Thomas Lyon.

2 A seat of Lord Strathm ore's in Durham, near Rainton. —
[JfftJ

3 Dr. William Ridlington of Trinity Hall, Professor of Civil
Law, 1757 ; tutor of the College in 1766 ; died in 1770 ; suc
ceeded in his Professorship by Dr. Hallifax. — [Mit.]

LETTEES. 209

LXXXII. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — I deferred writing to you, till I had
seen a little more of this country, than you yourself
had seen, and now being just returned from an ex
cursion, which I and the Major have been making,
into the Highlands, I sit down to tell you all about
it : but first I must return to my journey hither, on
which I shall be very short, partly because you know
the way as far as Edinburgh, and partly, that there
was not a great deal worth remarking. The first
night we passed at Tweedmouth (77 miles), the next
at Edinburgh (53 miles), where Lord Strathmore left
the Major and me, to go to Lenox-love1 (Ld> Blan-
tyre's) where his aunt lives. So that afternoon and
all next day I had leisure to visit the castle, Holy-
Rood-House, Heriot's Hospital, Arthur's Seat, etc.,
and am not sorry to have seen that most picturesque
(at a distance) and nastiest (when near) of all capital
cities. I supped with Dr. Robertson 2 and other literati,

1 This is the ancient house of Lithinton, ennobled by its
former possessors, the Maitlands. It was sold by Richard
Maitland, Earl of Lauderdale, to Sir Thomas Livingston, after
wards Viscount Tiviot, and by him to Alexander Lord Blantyre,
who changed the name to Lenox Love, in memory of Frances
Duchess of Richmond and Lenox, who left him a legacy of 20,000,
which enabled him to make the purchase. Lithinton, or Lenox
Love, is near Haddington.— [Whitalcer.]

2 William Robertson the historian (1721-1793), author of
the Life of Charles V.—\Ed.]

VOL. III. P

210 LETTERS.

and the next morning Lord S. came for us. We
crossed at the Queen's Ferry in a four-oared yawl,
without a sail, and were tossed about rather more
than I should wish to hazard again. Lay at Perth,
a large Scotch Town with much wood about it on the
banks of the Tay, a very noble river. Next morning
ferried over it, and came by dinner time to Glamis,
being (from Edinburgh) 67 miles, which makes in all
from Hetton, 197 miles. The castle stands in Strath-
more (i.e. the great valley), which winds about from
Stonehaven on the east coast of Kincairdinshire
obliquely as far as Stirling near 100 miles in length,
and from 7 to 10 miles in breadth, cultivated every
where to the foot of the hills on either hand with
oats or bere-barley, except where the soil is mere peat
earth (black as a coal) or barren sand covered only
with broom and heath, or a short grass fit for sheep.
Here and there appear just above ground the huts of
the inhabitants, which they call towns, built of and
covered with turf, and among them at great distances
the gentlemen's houses with enclosures and a few trees
round them. Amidst these our castle distinguishes
itself, the middle part of it rising proudly out of what
seems a great and thick wood of tall trees with a
cluster of hanging towers on the top. You descend
to it gradually from the south through a double and
triple avenue of Scotch firs, 60 or 70 feet high under
three gateways. This approach is a full mile long,
and when you have passed the second gate, the firs
change to limes, and another oblique avenue goes off

LETTERS. 211

on either hand toward the offices. These as well as
all the enclosures, that surround the house, are bor
dered with three or four ranks of sycamores, ashes,
and white poplars of the noblest height, and from 70
to 100 years old. Other alleys there are that go off
at right angles with the long one, small groves and
walled gardens of Earl Patrick's planting, full of broad
leaved elms, oaks, b'irch, black cherry trees, labur
nums, etc., all of great stature and size, which have
not till -this week begun to shew the least sense of
morning frosts. The third gate delivers you into a
court with a broad pavement, and grass plats adorned
with statues of the four Stuart kings,1 bordered with
old silver firs and yew trees alternately, and opening
with an iron palisade on either side to two square old
fashioned parterres surrounded by stone fruit walls.
The house from the height of it, the greatness of its
mass, the many towers a-top, and the spread of its
wings, has really a very singular and striking appear
ance, like nothing I ever saw. You will comprehend
something of its shape from the plan of the second
floor, which I enclose. The wings are about fifty feet
high, the body (which is the old castle with walls ten
feet thick) is near 100 from the leads. I see to the
South of me (just at the end of the avenue), the little
town of Glames, the houses built of stone and slated,
with a neat kirk and small square tower (a rarity in
this region) just beyond it rises a beautiful round
hill, and another ridge of a longer form adjacent to
1 Which four ?— [ WTiitaker, MS. note.}

212 LETTERS.

it, both covered with woods of tall fir : beyond them
peep over the black hills of Sid-law, over which winds
the road to Dundee. To the North within about
seven miles of me begin to rise the Grampians, hill
above hill, on whose tops three weeks ago I could
plainly see some traces of the snow, that fell in May
last. To the East winds away the Strath, such as I
have before described it, among the hills, which sink
lower and lower, as they approach the sea. To the
West the same valley (not plain, but broken unequal
ground), runs on for above twenty miles in view :
there I see the crags above Dunkeld, there Beni-gloe
and Beni-more rise above the clouds, and there is that
She-Khallian, that spires into a cone above them all,
and lies at least 45 miles (in a direct line) from this
place. Ld- S. who is the greatest farmer in this neigh
bourhood, is from break of day to dark night among
his husbandmen and labourers; he has near 2000
acres of land in his own hands, and is at present em
ployed in building a low wall of four miles long ; and .
in widening the bed of the little river Deane, which
runs to S. and S.E. of the house, from about twenty
to fifty feet wide, both to prevent inundations, and
to drain the lake of Forfar. This work will be two
years more in completing ; and must be three miles
in length. All the Highlanders, that can be got, are
employed in it ; many of them know no English, and
I hear them singing Erse songs all day long. The
price of labour is eightpence a day ; but to such, as
will join together and engage to perform a certain

LETTERS. 213

portion in a limited time, two shillings. I must say,
that all our labours seem to prosper, and my Ld- has
casually found in digging such quantities of shell-
marie, as not only to fertilize his own grounds, but
are disposed of at a good price to all his neighbours.
In his nurseries are thousands of oaks, beech, larches,
horse -chesnuts, spruce -fir, etc., thick as they can
stand, and whose only fault is, that they are grown
tall and vigorous, before he has determined, where to
plant them out. The most advantageous spot we
have for beauty lies West of the house, where (when
the stone walls of the meadows are taken away) the
grounds (naturally unequal) will have a very park-like
appearance. They are already full of trees, which need
only thinning here and there to break the regularity
of their lines, and through them winds the Burn of
Glamesy a clear and rapid trout-stream, which joins
the R Deane hard by. Pursuing the course of this
brook upwards, you come to a narrow sequestered
valley, sheltered from all winds, through which it
runs murmuring among great stones; on one hand
the ground gently rises into a hill, on the other are
the rocky banks of the rivulet almost perpendicular,
yet covered with sycamore, ash, and fir, that (though
it seems to have no place or soil to grow in) yet has
risen to a good height, and forms a thick shade. You
may continue along this gill, and passing by one end
of the village and its church for half-a-mile, it leads
to an opening between the two hills covered with fir-
woods, that I mentioned above, through which the

214 LETTERS.

stream makes its way, and forms a cascade of ten or
twelve feet over broken rocks. A very little art is
necessary to make all this a beautiful scene. The
weather till the last week has been in general very
fine and warm : we have had no fires till now, and
often have sat with the windows open an hour after
sunset. Now and then a shower has come, and some
times sudden gusts of wind descend from the moun
tains that finish as suddenly as they arose : but to-day
it blows a hurricane. Upon the whole I have been
exceedingly lucky in my weather, and particularly in
my highland expedition of five days.

We set out then the llth of September : and con
tinuing along the Strath to the West passed through
Megill, where is the tomb of Queen Wanders, that
was riven to dethe by staned -horses for nae gude, that
she did. So the women there told me, I am sure.
Through Cowper of Angus ; over the river Ila, then
over a wide and dismal heath fit for an assembly of
witches, till we came to a string of four small lakes in
a valley, whose deep blue waters, and green margin,
with a gentleman's house or two seated on them
in little groves, contrasted with the black desert in
which they were inchased. The ground now grew
unequal, the hills more rocky seemed to close in upon
us, till the road came to the brow of a steep descent,
and (the sun then setting) between two woods of oak
we saw far below us the river Tay come sweeping
along at the bottom of a precipice at least 150 feet
deep, clear as glass, full to the brim, and very rapid

LETTERS. 215

in its course. It seemed to issue out of woods thick
and tall, that rose on either hand, and were overhung
by broken rocky crags of vast height; above them
to the West the tops of higher mountains appeared,
on which the evening clouds reposed. Down by the
side of the river under the thickest shades is seated
the town of Dunkeld : in the midst of it stands a
ruined cathedral, the towers and shell of the building
still entire. A little beyond it a large house of the
Duke of Athol, with its offices and gardens extends
a mile beyond the town, and as his grounds were
interrupted by the streets and roads he has flung
arches of communication across them, that add to the
scenery of the place, which of itself is built of good
white stone, and handsomely slated, so that no one
would take it for a Scotch town till they come into
it. Here we passed the night : if I told you how, you
would bless yourself. Next day we set forward to
Taymouth twenty-seven miles farther West, the road
winding through beautiful woods with the Tay almost
always in full view to the right, being here from three
to four hundred feet over. The Strath-Tay from a
mile to three miles or more wide, covered with corn
and spotted with groups of people then in the midst

of their harvest. On either hand a vast chain of

•

rocky mountains, that changed their face and opened
something new every hundred yards, as the way
turned, or the clouds passed : in short altogether it
was one of the most pleasing days I have passed
these many years, and at every step I wished for

216 LETTERS.

you. At the close of day, we came to Ballocli, so the
place was called ; but now for decency Taymouth ; im
properly enough, for here it is that the river issues
out of Loch Tay (a glorious lake fifteen miles long,
and one and a half broad), surrounded with pro
digious mountains. There on its North Eastern
brink impending over it is the vast hill of Lawers :
to the East is that monstrous creature of God, She-
khallian (i.e. the Maiden's Pap), spiring above the
clouds. Directly West (beyond the end of the lake),
Beni-more (the great mountain) rises to a most awful
height, and looks down on the tomb of Fingal. Lord
Braidalbane's policy (so they call here all such ground
as is laid out for pleasure) takes in about 2000 acres,
of which his house, offices, and a deer park about
three miles round occupy the plain or bottom, which
is little above a mile in breadth. Through it winds
the Tay, which by means of a bridge I found here to
be 156 feet over. His plantations and woods rise with
the ground on either side the vale, to the very summit
of the enormous crags, that overhang it. Along them
on the mountain's side runs a terrass one mile and a
half long, that overlooks the course of the river.
From several seats and temples perched on particular
rocky eminences you command the lake for many
miles in length, which turns like some huge river,
and loses itself among the mountains, that surround
it. At its Eastern extremity, where the river issues
out of it, on a Peninsula my Lord has built a neat
little town and church with a high square tower,

LETTERS. 217

and just before it lies a small round island in the
lake covered with trees, amongst which are the ruins
of some little religious house. Trees (by the way)
grow here to great size and beauty. I saw four old
chesnuts in the road, as you enter the park, of vast
bulk and height. One beech tree I measured, that
was sixteen feet, seven inches in the girth, and (I guess)
near eighty feet in height. The gardener presented
us with peaches, nectarines, and plums from the
stone walls of the kitchen garden (for there are no
brick nor hot walls); the peaches were good, the
rest well tasted, but scarce ripe. We had also golden-
pippins from an espalier (not ripe) and a melon very
well flavoured and fit to cut. Of the house I have
little to say ; it is a very good nobleman's house
handsomely furnished and well kept, very com
fortable to inhabit, but not worth going far to see.
Of the Earl's taste I have not much more to say, it
is one of those noble situations, that man cannot spoil :
it is however certain, that he has built an inn and a
town just where his principal walks should have been,
and in the most wonderful spot of ground, that per
haps belongs to him. In this inn however we lay,
and next day returning down the river four miles
we passed it over a fine bridge, built at the expence
of the government, and continued our way to Logie-
Rait, just below which in a most charming scene the
Tummell, which is here the larger river of the two, falls
into the Tay. We ferried over the Tummell in order
to get into Marshal Wade's road (which leads from

218 LETTERS.

Dunkeld to Inverness), and continued our way along
it toward the North. The road is excellent, but
dangerous enough in conscience, the river often
running directly under us at the bottom of a pre
cipice 200 feet deep, sometimes masqued indeed by
wood, that finds means to grow where I could not
stand : but very often quite naked and without any
defence. In such places we walked for miles to
gether partly for fear, and partly to admire the
beauty of the country, which the beauty of the
weather set off to the greatest advantage. As even
ing came on, we approached the Pass of Gillikrankie,
where in the year 1745,1 the Hessians with their
Prince at their head stopped short, and refused to
march a foot farther.

" Vestibulum ante ipsum, primisq in faucibusOrci,"

stands the solitary mansion of Mr. Robinson of Fase-
ley. Close by it rises a hill covered with oak, with
grotesque masses of rock staring from among their
trunks, like the sullen countenances of Fingal and
all his family frowning on the little mortals of modern
days. From between this hill and the adjacent moun
tains pent in a narrow channel, comes roaring out
the river Tummell, and falls headlong down involved
in white foam, which rises into a mist all round it.
—But my paper is deficient, and I must say nothing
of the Pass itself, the black river Garry, the Blair

1 \n§.—lWhitaker, MS. note.}

LETTERS. 219

of Athol, Mount Beni-gloe, my return (by another
road) to Dunkeld, the Hermitage, the Stra-Brann,
and the rumbling Brigg. In short since I saw the
Alps, I have seen nothing sublime till now. In about
a week I shall set forward by the Stirling road on
my return all alone. Pray for me, till I see you, for
I dread Edinburgh and the itch ; and expect to find
very little in my way worth the perils I am to en
dure. My best compliments to Mrs. Wharton and
the young ladies (including herself) and to Mr. and
Mrs. Jonathan, if they are with you. Adieu. — I am
ever yours, T. G.

[Endorsed Glames, September 1765.]

LXXXIII. — TO JAMES BEATTIE.1

Glames Castle, September 8, 1765.

A LITTLE journey I have been making to Arbroath
has been the cause that I did not answer your very
obliging letter so soon as I ought to have done. A
man of merit, that honours me with his esteem, and
has the frankness to tell me so, doubtless can need no
excuse : his apology is made, and we are already ac
quainted, however distant from each other.

I fear I cannot (as I would wish) do myself the
pleasure of waiting on you at Aberdeen, being under

i Dr James Beattie (1735-1803), Professor of Moral Philo
sophy and Logic in the Marischal College, Aberdeen, and
author of The Minstrel. — [Ed.}

220 LETTERS.

an engagement to go to-morrow to Taymouth, and, if
the weather will allow it, to the Blair of Athol : this
will take up four or five days, and at my return the
approach of winter will scarce permit me to think of
any farther expeditions northwards. My stay here
will, however, be a fortnight or three weeks longer ;
and if in that time any business or invitation should
call you this way, Lord Strathmore gives me com
mission to say, he shall be extremely glad to see you
at Glames; and doubt not it will be a particular
satisfaction to me to receive and thank you in
person for the favourable sentiments you have enter
tained of me, and the civilities with which you have
honoured me.

LXXXIV. — TO JAMES BEATTTE.

Glames Castle, October 2, 1765.

I MUST beg you would present my most grateful
acknowledgments to your society for the public
mark of their esteem, which you say they are dis
posed to confer on me.1 I embrace, with so deep
and just a sense of their goodness, the substance of
that honour they do me, that I hope it may plead
my pardon with them if I do not accept the form. I
have been, Sir, for several years a member of the

1 The Marisclial College of Aberdeen had desired to know
whether it would be agreeable to Mr. Gray to receive from them
the degree of Doctor of Laws. Mr. Beattie wrote to him on the
subject, and this is the answer. — [Mason.]

LETTERS. 221

University of Cambridge, and formerly (when I had
some thoughts of the profession) took a Bachelor of
Laws' degree there; since that time, though long
qualified by my standing, I have always neglected to
finish my course, and claim my doctor's degree : judge,
therefore, whether it will not look like a slight,
and some sort of contempt, if I receive the same
degree from a Sister University. I certainly would
avoid giving any offence to a set of men, among
whom I have passed so many easy, and I may say,
happy hours of my life ; yet shall ever retain in my
memory the obligations you have laid me under, and
be proud of my connection with the University of
Aberdeen.

It is a pleasure to me to find that you are not
offended with the liberties I took when you were at
Glames ; you took me too literally, if you thought I
meant in the least to discourage you in your pursuit
of poetry : all I intended to say was, that if either
vanity (that is, a general and undistinguishing desire
of applause), or interest, or ambition has any place
in the breast of a poet, he stands a great chance in
these our days of being severely disappointed ; and
yet, after all these passions are suppressed, there may
remain in the mind of one, "ingenti perculsus amore"
(and such I take you to be), incitements of a better
sort, strong enough to make him write verse all
his life, both for his own pleasure and that of all
posterity.

I am sorry for the trouble you have had to gratify

222 LETTEES.

my curiosity and love of superstition;1 yet I heartily
thank you. On Monday, Sir, I set forward on my
way to England ; where if I can be of any little use
to you, or should ever have the good fortune to see
you, it will be a particular satisfaction to me. Lord
Strathmore and the family here desire me to make
their compliments to you.

P.S. — Kemember Dry den, and be blind to all his
faults.2

LXXXV. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

1765.

DEAR MASON — Res est sacra miser (says the poet), but
I say it is the happy man that is the sacred thing, and
therefore let the profane keep their distance. He is
one of Lucretius' gods, supremely blessed in the con
templation of his own felicity, and what has he to do
with worshippers ? This, mind, is the first reason why

1 Mr. Gray, when in Scotland, had been very inquisitive
after the popular superstitions of the country. His corre
spondent sent him two books on this subject, foolish ones
indeed, as might be expected, but the best that could be had :
a History of Second Sight and a History of Witches. — [Mason.'}

2 Mr. Beattie, it seems, in their late interview had expressed
himself with less admiration of Dryden than Mr. Gray thought
his due. He told him in reply, "that if there was any ex
cellence in his own numbers he had learned it wholly from that
great poet. And pressed him with great earnestness to study
him, as his choice of words and versification were singularly
happy and harmonious." — [Mason.]

LETTERS. 223

I did not come to York : the second is, that I do not
love confinement, and probably by next summer may
be permitted to touch whom, and where, and with
what I think fit, without giving you any offence : the
third and last, and not the least perhaps, is, that the
finances were at so low an ebb that I could not exactly
do what I wished, but was obliged to come the shortest
road to town and recruit them. I do not justly know
what your taste in reasons may be, since you altered
your condition, but there is the ingenious, the petu
lant, and the dull ; for you any one would have done,
for in my conscience I do not believe you care a half
penny for reasons at present ; so God bless ye both,
and give ye all ye wish, when ye are restored to the
use of your wishes.

I am returned from Scotland charmed with my
expedition ; it is of the Highlands I speak ; the Low
lands are worth seeing once, but the mountains are
ecstatic, and ought to be visited in pilgrimage once a
year. None but those monstrous creatures of God
know how to join so much beauty with so much
horror. A fig for your poets, painters, gardeners, and
clergymen, that have not been among them; their
imagination can be made up of nothing but bowling-
greens, flowering shrubs, horse-ponds, Fleet ditches,
shell grottoes, and Chinese rails. Then I had so
beautiful an autumn, Italy could hardly produce a
nobler scene, and this so sweetly contrasted with that
perfection of nastiness, and total want of accommoda
tion, that Scotland only can supply. Oh, you would

224 LETTERS.

have blessed yourself. I shall certainly go again;
what a pity it is I cannot draw, nor describe, nor ride
on horseback.

Stonhewer is the busiest creature upon earth
except Mr. Fraser; they stand pretty tight, for all
his Royal Highness.1 Have you read (oh no, I had
forgot) Dr. Lowth's pamphlet against your uncle the
Bishop1? Oh, how he works him. I hear he will
soon be on the same bench. To-day Mr. Hurd came
to see me, but we had not a word of that matter ; he
is grown pure and plump, just of the proper breadth
for a celebrated town-preacher. There was Dr. Bal-
guy too ; he says Mrs. Mason is very handsome, so
you are his friend for ever. Lord Newnham, I hear,
has ill health of late ; it is a nervous case, so have a
care. How do your eyes do ?

Adieu : my respects to the bride. I would kiss
her, but you stand by and pretend it is not the
fashion, though I know they do so at Hull. — I am
ever yours, T. G.

1 This probably relates to the death of the Duke of Cumber
land, who was understood to have formed the present adminis
tration, and to constitute great part of its strength. — [Mason.]

LETTEES. 225

LXXXVI. — TO HORACE WALPOLE.

Cambridge, December 13, 1765.

I AM very much obliged to you for the detail you
enter into on the subject of your own health, in this
you cannot be too circumstantial for me, who had
received no account of you, but at second hand : such
as, that you were dangerously ill, and therefore went
to France ; that you meant to try a better climate,
and therefore staid at Paris ; that you had relapsed,
and were confined to your bed, and extremely in
vogue, and supped in the best company, and were at
all public diversions. I rejoiced to find (improbable
as it seemed) that all the wonderful part of this is
strictly true, and that the serious part has been a
little exaggerated. This latter I conclude, not so
much from your own account of yourself, as from the
spirits in which I see you write : and long may they
continue to support you ! I mean in a reasonable
degree of elevation ; but if (take notice) they are
so volatile, so flippant, as to suggest any of those
doctrines of health, which you preach with all the
zeal of a French atheist ; at least, if they really do
influence your practice ; I utterly renounce them and
all their works. They are evil spirits, and will lead
you to destruction. — You have long built your hopes
on temperance, you say, and hardiness. On the first
point we are agreed. The second has totally disap
pointed you, and therefore you will persist in it, by all
means. But then be sure to persist too in being
VOL. III. Q

226 LETTERS.

young, in stopping the course of time, and making the
shadow return back upon your sun dial. If you find
this not so easy, acquiesce with a good grace in my
anilities, put on your under stockings of yarn, or
woollen, even in the night time. Don't provoke me !
or I shall order you two night caps (which by the
way would do your eyes good), and put a little of any
French liqueur into your water, they are nothing but
brandy and sugar, and among their various flavours,
some of them may surely be palatable enough. The
pain in your feet I can bear ; but I shudder at the
sickness in your stomach, and the weakness that still
continues. I conjure you, as you love yourself ; I
conjure you by Strawberry, not to trifle with these
edge-tools. There is no cure for the gout, when in
the stomach, but to throw it into the limbs. There
is no relief for the gout in the limbs, but in gentle
warmth and gradual perspiration.

I was much entertained with your account of our
neighbours. As an Englishman and an Antigallican,
I rejoice at their dulness and their nastiness, though
I fear we shall come to imitate them in both. Their
atheism is a little too much, too shocking to rejoice
at. I have been long sick at it in their authors, and
hated them for it ; but I pity their poor innocent
people of fashion. They were bad enough when they
believed everything !

I have searched where you directed me, which I
could not do sooner, as I was at London when I re
ceived your letter, and could not easily find her

LETTERS. 227

Grace's 1 works. Here they abound in every library.
The print you ask after is the frontispiece to Nature's
Pictures draivn by Fancy's pencil. But lest there
should be any mistake, I must tell you the family are
not at dinner, but sitting round a rousing fire and
telling stories. The room is just such a one as we
lived in at Eheims : I mean as to the glazing and
ceiling. The chimney is supported by cariatides :
over the mantle-piece the arms of the family. The
duke and duchess are crowned with laurel. A ser
vant stands behind him, holding a hat and feather.
Another is shutting a window. Diepenbecke delin.
and (I think) S. Clouwe sculps. It is a very pretty
and curious print, and I thank you for the sight of it.
If it ever was a picture, what a picture to have ! I
must tell you, that upon cleaning an old picture here
at St. John's Lodge, which I always took for a Hol
bein, on a ring which the figure wears, they have
found H. H. It has been always called B. V. Fisher;
but is plainly a layman, and probably Sir Anthony
Denny, who was a benefactor to the college.

What is come of your Sevigne" curiosity 1 I should
be glad of a line now and then, when you have leisure.
I wish you well, and am ever yours, T. GRAY.

1 Duchess of Newcastle.

228 LETTERS.

LXXXVII. — TO JAMES BENTHAM.

About the year 1765.

To THE EEV. MR. BENTHAM l— Mr. Gray returns the
papers and prints to Mr. Bentham, with many thanks
for the sight of them.

Concludes he has laid aside his intention of pub
lishing the first four sections of his Introduction, that
contain the settlement and progress of Christianity
among the Saxons ; as (however curious and instruc
tive of themselves) they certainly have too slight a
connection with the subject in hand to make a part of
the present work.

Has received much entertainment and information
from his remarks on the state of Architecture among
the Saxons, and thinks he has proved his point
against the authority of Stow and Somner. The
words of Eddius, Richard of Hexham, etc., must be
everywhere cited in the original tongue, as the most
accurate translation is in these cases not to be trusted ;
this Mr. B. has indeed commonly done in the MSS.,
but not everywhere.

P. 31. He says, the instances Sir C. "Wren brings,
were, some of them at least, undoubtedly erected after
the Conquest. Sure they were all so without ex
ception.

There is much probability in what he asserts with

1 Bentham's "Essay on Gothic Architecture " had been falsely
attributed to Gray. James Bentham, Prebendary of Ely (1708-
1794), author of The History of Ely.— {Ed.}

LETTERS. 229

respect to the New Norman Mode of building ; though
this is not, nor perhaps can be, made out with so
much precision as the former point.

P. 35. Here, where the Author is giving a com
pendious view of the peculiarities that distinguish the
Saxon style, it might be mentioned, that they had no
tabernacles (or niches and canopies), nor any statues
to adorn their buildings on the outside, which are the
principal grace of what is called the Gothic ; the only
exception that I can recollect, is a little figure of
Bishop Herebert Losing over the north transept door
at Norwich, which appears to be of that time : but
this is rather a mezzo-relievo than a statue, and it is
well known that they used reliefs sometimes with
profusion, as in the Saxon gateway of the Abbey at
Bury, the gate of the Temple Church at London, and
the two gates at Ely, etc.

The want of pinnacles and of tracery in the vaults,
are afterwards mentioned, but may as well be placed
here, too (in short) among the other characteristics.

Escutcheons of arms are hardly (if ever) seen in
these fabrics, which are the most frequent of all
decorations in after-times.

P. 34. Besides the chevron-work (or zig-zag mould
ing), so common, which is here mentioned, there is
also,

The BiHeted-moMmg, as if a cylinder should be
cut into small pieces of equal length, and these stuck
on alternately round the face of the arches, as in the
choir at Peterborough, and at St. Cross, etc.

230 LETTEES.

The Nail-head, resembling the heads of great nails
driven in at regular distances, as in the nave of old
St. Paul's, and the great tower of Hereford, etc.

The Nebule, a projection terminated by an undu
lating line as under the upper range of windows, on
the outside of Peterborough.

Then to adorn their vast massive columns there
was the spiral-grove winding round the shafts, and the
net, or lozenge-work, overspreading them, both of which
appear at Durham, and the first in the undercroft at
Canterbury.

These few things are mentioned only, because Mr.
Bentham's work is so nearly complete in this part,
that one would wish it were quite so. His own
observation may doubtless suggest to him many more
peculiarities, which, however minute in appearance,
are not contemptible, because they directly belong to
his subject, and contribute to ascertain the age of an
edifice at first sight. The great deficiency is from
Henry Vlth's time to the Reformation, when the art
was indeed at its height.

P. 36. At York, under the choir, remains much of
the old work, built by Archbishop Roger, of Bishop's-
bridge, in Henry lid's reign ; the arches are but just
pointed, and rise on short round pillars, whose capitals
are adorned with animals and foliage.

P. 37. Possibly the pointed arch might take its
rise from those arcades we see in the early Norman
(or Saxon) buildings on walls, where the wide semi
circular arches cross and intersect each other, and form

LETTERS. 231

thereby at their intersection exactly a narrow and
sharp-pointed arch. In the wall south of the choir at
St. Cross, is a facing of such wide, round, interlaced
arches by way of ornament to a flat vacant space;
only so much of it as lies between the legs of the two
neighbouring arches, where they cross each ether, is
pierced through the fabric, and forms a little range
of long pointed windows. It is of King Stephen's
time.

P. 43. As Mr. B. has thought it proper to make a
compliment to the present set of governors in their
respective churches, it were to be wished he would
insert a little reflection on the rage of repairing,
beautifying, whitewashing, painting, and gilding, and
above all, the mixture of Greek (or Roman) ornaments
in Gothic edifices. This well-meant fury has been,
and will be little less fatal to our ancient magnificent
edifices, than the Reformation and the civil wars.

Mr. G. would wish to be told (at Mr. Bentham's
leisure) whether over the great pointed arches, on
which the western tower at Ely rises, anything like
a semicircular curve appears in the stone work ? and
whether the screen (or rood-loft) with some part of
the south-cross, may not possibly be a part of the
more ancient church built by Abbot Simeon and
Fitz-Gilbert.

232 LETTERS.

LXXXVIIL— TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Pembroke College, March 5, 1766.

DEAR DOCTOR — I am amazed at myself, when I
think I have never wrote to you : to be sure it is the
sin of witchcraft or something worse. Something
indeed might be said for it, had I been married like
Mason, who (for the first time since that great event)
has just thought fit to tell me, that he never passed
so happy a winter as the last, and this in spite of his
anxieties, which perhaps (he says) might even make
a part of his happiness : for his wife is by no means
in health, she has a constant cough, yet he is assured
her lungs are not affected, and that it is nothing of
the consumptive kind. What say you to this case ?
May I flatter him, that breeding will be a cure for
this disorder 1 If so, I hear she is in a fair way to
be well. As to me I have been neither happy nor
miserable : but in a gentle stupefaction of mind, and
very tolerable health of body hitherto. If they last,
I shall not much complain. The accounts one has
lately had from all parts make me suppose you buried
under the snow, like the old Queen of Denmark. As
soon as you are dug out, I should rejoice to hear your
voice from the battlements of Old Park. The greatest
cold we have felt here was January 2, Thermom. (in the
garden) at four in the afternoon standing at 30J Deg.
and the next day fell a little snow, which did not lie :
it was the first we had had during the winter. Again,
February 5, toward night, Therm, was down at 30 Deg.

LETTERS. 233

with a clear sky ; the Snowdrops then beginning to
blow in the garden. Next day was a little snow, but
on the llth and 12th fell a deep snow (the weather
not very cold) which however was melted on the 1 5th,
and made a flood in the river. Next day the Thrush
was singing, and the Rooks building. At and about
London instead of snow they had heavy rains. On
the 19th the red Hepatica blew, and next day the
Primrose. The Crocus is now in full bloom. So ends
my chronicle.

My Oracle l of State (who now and then utters a
little, as far as he may with discretion) is a very
slave and pack horse, that never breathes any air
better than that of London, except like an apprentice,
on Sundays with his Master and Co. : however he is
in health, and a very good boy. It is strange, the
turn that things have taken. That the late Ministry
should negociate a reconciliation with Lord Bute,
and that Lord Temple should join them ; that they
should after making their (bad) apologies be received
with a gracious kind of contempt, and told that his
Lordship could enter into no political connections with
them : that on the first division on the American
business that happened in the House of Lords they
should however all join to carry a point against the
Ministry by a majority indeed of four only, but the
Duke of York present and making one : that when
the Ministers expostulated in a proper place, they
should be seriously assured the King would support

1 I believe Gray alludes to Richard Stonehewer.— [MiL]

234 LETTERS.

them. That on a division on an insignificant point
to try their strength in the House of Commons they
should again lose it by 12 majority : that they should
persist nevertheless : that Mr. Pitt should appear
tanguam e Machind, speak for three hours and a half,
and assert the rights of the Colonies in their greatest
latitude : that the Minister should profess himself
ready to act with and even serve under him : that he
should receive such a compliment with coldness, and
a sort of derision : that Norton should move to send
him to the Tower : that when the great questions
came on, the Ministry should always carry their point
at one, two, three in the morning by majorities of
110 and 170 (Mr. Pitt entirely concurring with them,
and the Tories, people of the Court, and many Place
men, even Lord G-. Sackville, constantly voting against
them) all these events are unaccountable on any
principles of common sense. I attribute much of the
singular part to the interposition of ivomen as rash as
they are foolish. On Monday (I do not doubt, though
as yet I do not certainly know it) the Bill to repeal
the Stamp Act went through that House, and to-day
it is before the Lords, who surely will not venture to
throw it out. Oh, that they would ! — but after this
important business is well over, there must be an
eclaircissement : some amends must be made, and
some gracious condescensions insisted on, or else who
would go on, that really means to serve his country!
The D. of Bedford and Lord Temple were gone down
to their villas, and I believe are not likely to come

LETTERS. 235

back. Lord Chesterfield, who had not been for many
years at the House, came the other day to qualify
himself in order to leave a Proxy, that should vote
with the Ministry. Somebody (I thought) made no
bad application of those lines in Firgil, Lib. 6, v. 48 9. *

"At Danaum proceres, Agamemnoniseq. Phalanges," etc.,
to Mr. Pitt's first appearance (for no one expected
him) in the House. Turn to the place.

Everything is politics. There are no literary pro
ductions worth your notice, at least of our country.
The French have finished their great Encyclopaedia
in 17 volumes : but there are many flimsy articles
very hastily treated, and great incorrectness of the
press. There are now 13 volumes of Buffon's Natural
History, and he is not come to the Monkeys yet, who
are a very numerous people. The Life of Petrarch 2

1 At Danaum proceres, Agamemnoniseq. phalanges,
Ut videre virum, fulgentiaque arma per umbras,
Ingenti trepidare metu ; pars vertere terga,
Ceu quondam petiere ratis : pars tollere vocem,
Exiguam : inceptus clamor frustratur hiantis.
2 Memoires pour la Vie de Francois Petrarque, tires de ses
(Euvres, <L des Auteurs Contemporains, par L'AbM de Sade.
3 Tom. 4to, 1764. The "Essay on the Life and Character of
Petrarch," by F. Tytler, Lord Woodhouslee, is directed against
the Hypothesis of the Abbe de Sade, that the Laura of Petrarch
was Laura de Noves, who married Hugh de Sade. In a Note
to the 6th Volume of his Roman History (p. 567) Gibbon
sketches the character of this Work — " The Memoir es sur la Vie
de Pttrarque (he says) form a copious, original, and entertaining
Work, a labour of love, composed from the accurate study of
Petrarch and his contemporaries. But the Hero is too often
lost in the general history of the age, and the Author too often
languishes in the affectation of politeness and gallantry."— Mit.

236 LETTERS.

has entertained me : it is not well written, but very
curious and laid together from his own letters and the
original writings of the 14th century. So that it
takes in much of the history of those obscure times,
and the characters of many remarkable persons.
There are 2 vols. 4to, and another (unpublished yet)
that will complete it.

Mr. W[alpole] writes me now and then a long and
lively letter from Paris, to which place he went the
last Summer with the gout upon him sometimes in
his limbs, often in his stomach and head. He has
got somehow well (not by means of the climate, one
would think) goes to all public places, sees all the best
company and is very much in fashion. He says, he
sunk like Queen Eleanor at Charing Cross, and has
risen again at Paris. He returns again in April : but
his health is certainly in a deplorable state. Mad. de
la Perriere1 is come over from the Hague to be Minis-
tress at London. Her father-in-law Viry is now first
Minister at Turin. I sat a morning with her before
I left London. She is a prodigious fine lady, and a
Catholick (though she did not expressly own it to me)
not fatter than she was : she had a cage of foreign birds
and a piping bullfinch at her elbow, two little dogs
on a cushion in her lap, a cockatoo on her shoulder,
and a strong suspicion of rouge on her cheeks.
They were all exceeding glad to see me, and I them.

Pray tell me the history of your Winter, and
present my respects to Mrs. Wharton. I hope Miss
1 Miss Speed, of the Long Story. — [Ed.]

LETTERS. 237

Wharton and Miss Peggy with the assistance of
sister Betty make a great progress in Natural History :
recommend me to all their good graces, and believe
me ever truly yours.

If you chance to see or send to Mr. and Mrs.
Leighton, I will trouble you to make my compliments :
I have never received the box of shells, though possibly
it may wait for me at Mr. Jonathan's in town, where
I shall be in April. Mr. Brown is well, and desires
to be remembered to you and Mrs. Wharton. I have
just heard, there are like to be warm debates in the
House of Lords, but that the Ministry will undoubt
edly carry it in spite of them all. They say Lord
Camden will soon be chancellor.

LXXXIX. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Jermyn Street, May 15, 1766.

DEAR SIR — To-morrow morning I set out for Canter
bury. If any letter comes, I believe it will be better
to direct to me as usual at Mr. Roberts's here, and
he will take care to send it. I know not how long
my stay in Kent may be : it depends on the agree-
ability of Mr. Robinson and his wife.

You expect to hear who is Secretary of State. I
cannot tell.1 It is sure this morning it was not
determined; perhaps Lord Egmont; perhaps Lord

1 May 23, 1766, Charles Duke of Richmond was appointed
Secretary of State, vice the Duke of Grafton. Succeeded August
2, by the Earl of Shelbnrne.

238 LETTERS.

Hardwicke (for I do not believe he has refused, as is
said) ; perhaps you may hear of three instead of two.
Charles Townshend affirms he has rejected both that
office and a peerage ; doubtless from his firm adher
ence to Mr. Pitt — a name which the court, I mean
Lord Tt., Lord Nd., and even Lord B.1 himself, at
present affect to celebrate, with what design you are
to judge. You have doubtless heard of the honour
done to your friend Mrs. Macaulay. Mr. Pitt has
made a panegyric of her History in the house. It is
very true Wilkes has arrived. The tumults in Spain
spread wider and wider, while at Naples they are
publicly thanking God for their cessation; perhaps
you may hear. All is not well in Ireland. It is
very late at night. Adieu. Pa. went home to-day,
and Mr. Weddell with him. J. Wheeler has returned
from Lisbon. The great match will not be till after
Christmas. Tom2 is gone to Scotland. It is sure
the lady did refuse both Lord Mountstuart and the
Duke of Beaufort. Good-night.

I came away in debt to you for two post-chaises.
Pray set it down.

XC. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke Hall, August 26, 1766.

DEAR SIR — It is long since that I heard you were
gone in hast into Yorkshire on account of your
mother's illness; and the same letter informed me

1 Lord Talbot, Lord Northumberland, Lord Bute.
2 This is Lyon.— {

LETTERS. 239

that she was recovered ; otherwise I had then wrote
to you, only to beg you would take care of her, and
to inform you that I had discovered a thing very little
known, which is, that in one's whole life one never
can have any more than a single mother. You may
think this is obvious, and (what you call) a trite ob
servation. You are a green gosling ! I was at the
same age (very near) as wise as you, and yet I never
discovered this (with full evidence and conviction, I
mean) till it was too late. It is thirteen years ago,
and seems but yesterday; and every day I live it
sinks deeper into my heart. Many a corollary
could I draw from this axiom for your use (not for
my own) but I will leave you the merit of doing it
yourself. Pray tell me how your own health is. I
conclude it perfect, as I hear you offered yourself for
a guide to Mr. Palgrave, into the Sierra-Morena of
Yorkshire. For me, I passed the end of May and all
June in Kent not disagreeably ; the country is all a
garden, gay, rich, and fruitful, and (from the rainy
season) had preserved, till I left it, all that emerald
verdure, which commonly one only sees for the first
fortnight of the spring. In the west part of it from
every eminence the eye catches some long winding
reach of the Thames or Medway, with all their navi
gation ; in the east, the sea breaks in upon you, and
mixes its white transient sails and glittering blue
expanse with the deeper and brighter greens of the
woods and corn. This last sentence is so fine, I am
quite ashamed ; but, no matter ! you must translate

240 LETTERS.

it into prose. Palgrave, if he heard it, would cover
his face with his pudding sleeve. I went to Margate
for a day ; one would think it was Bartholomew fair
that had/owTi down from Smithfield to Kent in the
London machine, like my Lady Stuffdamask (to be
sure you have read the New Bath Giiide,1 the most
fashionable of books) : so then I did not go to Kings-
gate, because it belonged to my Lord Holland ; but
to Ramsgate I did, and so to Sandwich, and Deal, and
Dover, and Folkestone, and Hythe, all along the coast,
very delightful. I do not tell you of the great and
small beasts, and creeping things innumerable that I
met with, because you do not suspect that this world
is inhabited by anything but men and women and
clergy, and such two-legged cattle. Now I am here
again very disconsolate and all alone, even Mr.
Brown is gone ; and the cares of this world are
coming thick upon me ; I do not mean children. You,
I hope, are better off, riding and walking in the woods
of Studley with Mr. Aislaby, singing duets with my
cousin Fanny, improving with Mr. Weddell, convers
ing with Mr. Harry Duncomb. I must not wish for
you here ; besides, I am going to town at Michaelmas,
by no means for amusement. Do you remember how
we are to go into Wales next year ? well ! — Adieu, I
am sincerely yours, T. G.

1 The New Bath Guide, which had just appeared, was a very
bright satire in rattling rhyme on the foibles of Bath society.
The author, Christopher Anstey (1724-1805), had been at Cam
bridge, and was favourably known to Gray. — [Ed.]

LETTERS. 241

P.S. — Pray how does poor Temple find himself in
his new situation 1 Is Lord Lisburne as good as his
letters were 1 What is come of the father and brother 1
Have you seen Mason ?

XCI.— TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — Whatever my pen may do, I am sure
my thoughts expatiate nowhere oftener or with more
pleasure, than to Old Park. I hope you have made
my peace with Miss Deborah. It is certain, whether
her name were in my letter or not, she was as present
to my memory, as the rest of the little family, and I
desire you would present her with two kisses in my
name, and one a piece to all the others ; for I shall
take the liberty to kiss them all (great and small) as
you are to be my proxy.

In spite of the rain, which I think continued with
very short intervals till the beginning of this month,
and quite effaced the summer from the year, I made
a shift -to pass May and June not disagreeably in Kent.
I was surprised at the beauty of the road to Canter
bury, which (I know not why) had not struck me in
the same manner before. The whole country is a
rich and well cultivated garden, orchards, cherry
grounds, hop gardens, intermixed with corn and fre
quent villages, gentle risings covered with wood, and
everywhere the Thames and Medway breaking in
upon the landscape with all their navigation. It was
indeed owing to the bad weather, that the whole

VOL. HI. R

242 LETTERS.

scene was dressed in that tender emerald-green, which
one usually sees only for a fortnight in the opening
of spring, and this continued till I left the country.
My residence was eight miles east of Canterbury in a
little quiet valley on the skirts of Barham-Down.1
In these parts the whole soil is chalk, and whenever
it holds up, in half an hour it is dry enough to walk
out. I took the opportunity of three or .four days
fine weather to go into the Isle of Thanet, saw Mar
gate (which is Bartholomew Fair by the sea side),
Ramsgate, and other places there, and so came by
Sandwich, Deal, Dover, Folkestone, and Hythe, back
again. The coast is not like Hartlepool : there are
no rocks, but only chalky cliffs of no great height, till
you come to Dover. There indeed they are noble and
picturesque, and the opposite coasts of France begin
to bound your view, which was left before to range
unlimited by anything but the horizon : yet it is by
no means a shipless sea, but everywhere peopled with
white sails and vessels of all sizes in motion ; and
take notice (except in the Isle, which is all corn fields,
and has very little enclosure) there are in all places
hedgerows and tall trees even within a few yards of
the beach, particularly Hythe stands on an eminence
covered with wood. I shall confess we had fires of
a night (aye, and a day too) several times even in
June : but don't go and take advantage of this, for

1 At Denton, where his friend the Rev. William Robinson,
brother to Matthew Robinson, Esq., late Member for Canter
bury, then resided. — [Mason.]

LETTERS. 243

it was the most untoward year that ever I re
member.

Your friend Rousseau (I doubt) grows tired of Mr.
Davenport and Derbyshire. He has picked a quarrel
with David Hume, and writes him letters of fourteen
pages folio upbraiding him with all his noirceurs.
Take one only as a specimen, he says, that at Calais
they chanced to sleep in the same room together, and
that he overheard David talking in his sleep, and say
ing, " Ah ! je le tiens, ce Jean Jacques la." In short
(I fear) for want of persecution and admiration (for
these are his real complaints) he will go back to the
Continent.

What shall I say to you about the ministry ? I
am as angry as a common council man of London
about my Lord Chatham : but a little more patient,
and will hold my tongue till the end of the year. In
the meantime I do mutter in secret and to you,
that to quit the House of Commons, his natural
strength ; to sap his own popularity and grandeur
(which no one but himself could have done) by assum
ing a foolish title ; and to hope that he could win by
it and attach to him a court, that hate him, and will
dismiss him, at soon as ever they dare, was the weak
est thing, that ever was done by so great a man. Had
it not been for this, I should have rejoiced at the
breach between him and Lord Temple, and at the
union between him and the Duke of Graf ton and Mr.
Conway • but patience ! we shall see ! Stonehewer
perhaps is in the country (for he hoped for a month's

244 LETTERS.

leave of absence) and if you see him, you will learn
more than I can tell you.

Mason is at Aston.1 He is no longer so anxious
about his wife's health, as he was, though I find she
still has a cough, and moreover I find she is not with
child : but he made such a bragging, how could one
choose but believe him.

When I was in town, I marked in my pocket-book
the utmost limits and divisions of the two columns
in your thermometer, and asked Mr. Ayscough the
instrument maker on Ludgate Hill, what scales they
were. He immediately assured me, that one was
Fahrenheit's, and shewed me one exactly so divided.
The other he took for Reaumur's, but, as he said there
were different scales of his contrivance, he could not
exactly tell, which of them it was. Your brother
told me, you wanted to know, who wrote Duke
Wharton's life in the Biographia : I think, it is chiefly
borrowed from a silly book enough called Memoirs of
that Duke, but who put it together there, no one can
inform me. The only person certainly known to write

1 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 inquired of her health, he said she was some
thing better, and that I suppose encouraged him to come out,
but Dr. Balguy tells me that Heberden says she is irretrievably
gone, and has touched upon it to him, and ought to do it to
her. When the terms of such a sentence may impede the
Doctor's endeavour to save, the pronouncing it, would be very
indiscreet, but in a consumption confirmed, it is a work of
charity, as the patient is always deluded with hopes to the very
last breath. — [Warburton.']

LETTERS. 245

in that vile collection (I mean these latter volumes)
is Dr. Nicholls, who was expelled here for stealing
books.

Have you read the New Bath Guide ? it is the only
thing in fashion, and is a new and original kind of
humour. Miss Price's Conversion I doubt you will
paste down, as Sir W. St. Quintyn did, before he
carried it to his daughter. Yet I remember you all
read Crazy Tales1 without pasting. Buffon's first col
lection of monkeys are come out (it makes the four
teenth volume) something, but not much to my
edification : for he is pretty well acquainted with their
persons, but not with their manners.

I shall be glad to hear, how far Mrs. Ettrick has
succeeded, and when you see an end to her troubles.
My best respects to Mrs. Wharton, and compliments
to all your family : I will not name them, lest I should
afront anybody. Adieu, dear Sir, I am most sincerely
yours, T. G-.

August 26, 1766, Pembroke College.

Mr. Brown is gone to see his brother near Margate.
When is Ld> Str[athmore] to be married 1 If Mr. and
Mrs. Jonathan are with you, I desire my compliments.

1 Crazy Tales was a volume of very indelicate and foolish
verses by Sterne's friend, John Hall Stevenson. — [Ed.}

246 LETTERS.

XCII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

August 1766.

DEAR MASON — I rejoice to find you are both in
health, and that one or other of you at least can
have your teeming time : you are wise as a serpent,
but the devil of a dove, in timing both your satire
and your compliments. When a man1 stands on the
very verge of dissolution, with all his unblushing
honours thick upon him ; when the gout has nipped
him in the bud and blasted all his hopes at least for
one winter, then come you buzzing about his nose,
and strike your sting deep into the reddest, angriest
part of his toe, which will surely mortify. When
another has been weak enough in the plenitude of
power to disarm himself of his popularity, and to
conciliate a court that naturally hates him, submits
to be decked in their trappings and fondle their lap-
dogs, then come you to lull him with your gentlest
hum, recalling his good deeds, and hoping what I
(with all my old partialities) scarce should dare to
hope, if I had but any one else to put my trust in.
Let you alone, where spite and interest are in view :
ay, ay, Mrs. M. (I see) will be a bishopess.

Well, I transcribed your wickedness in a print
hand, and sent it by last Sunday's post to Dr. Gis-
borne, with your orders about it, for I had heard

1 Lord Chatham ; a few months seemed to restore him to
all his popularity, as was evinced by the King's visit to the
City. — [Mason.]

LETTERS. 247

St[onehewer] say that he hoped for a month's respite
to go into the North, and did not know but he might
be gone. G. was to send me word he had received
it, but has not yet done so, and (Lord bless me) who
knows but he may be gone into Derbyshire, and the
Ode gone after him ; if so, mind I am innocent, and
meant for the best. I liked it vastly, and thought it
very well turned and easy, especially the diabolical
part of it. I fear it will not keep, and would have
wished the public might have eat it fresh ; but, if
any untoward accident should delay it, it will be
still better than most things that appear at their
table.

I shall finish where you begun, with my apology.
You say you have neglected me, and (to make it
relish the better) with many others : for my part I
have not neglected you, but I have always considered
the happy, that is, new-married people, as too sacred
or too profane a thing to be approached by me ;
when the year is over, I have no longer any respect
or aversion for them.

Adieu : I am in no spirits, and perplexed besides
with many little cares, but always sincerely yours,

T. G

P.S. — My best respects to Madam in her grogram
gown. I have long since heard that you were out of
pain with regard to her health. Mr. Brown is gone
to see his brother near Margate.

248 LETTERS.

XCIII.— TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke College, September 2, 1766.
MY DEAR, SIR — I was absent in Suffolk, and did not
receive your melancholy letter till my return hither
yesterday : so you must not attribute this delay to
me, but to accident. To sympathize with you in
such a loss1 is an easy task for me, but to comfort
you not so easy. Can I wish to see you unaffected
with the sad scene now before your eyes, or with the
loss of a person, that through a great part of your
life has proved himself so kind a friend to you ? He
who best knows our nature (for he made us what we
are) by such afflictions recalls us from our wandering
thoughts and idle merriment, from the insolence of
youth and prosperity, to serious reflection, to our
duty and to himself : nor need we hasten to get rid
of these impressions. Time (by appointment of the
same power) will cure the smart, and in some hearts
soon blot out all the traces of sorrow ; but such as
preserve them longest (for it is left partly in our own
power), do perhaps best acquiesce in the will of the
Chastiser.

For the consequences of this sudden loss I see
them well, and (I think) in a like situation could
fortify my mind so as to support them with cheer
fulness and good hopes, though not naturally inclined
to see things in their best aspect. Your cousins seem
naturally kind and well disposed worthy young people :
1 The death of his uncle, Governor Floyer.

LETTERS. 249

your mother and they will assist one another ; you
too (when you have time to turn you round) must
think seriously of your profession : you know I would
have wished to see you wear the livery of it long
ago • but I will not dwell on this subject at present.
To be obliged to those we love and esteem is a
pleasure, but to serve and to oblige them is a still
greater, and this with independence (no vulgar bless
ings) are what a profession at your age may reason
ably promise, without it they are hardly attainable.
Remember, I speak from experience !

Poor Mr. Walpole is struck with a paralytic dis
order.1 I know it only from the papers, but think it
very likely ; he may live in this state, incapable of
assisting himself, in the hands of servants or relations
that only gape after his spoils, perhaps for years to
come. Think how many things may befall a man
far worse than death ! Adieu, I sincerely wish your
happiness, and am faithfully yours, T. G.

P.S. — I must go soon to London, but if you direct
to me here, I shall have your letters. Let me know
soon how you go on.

1 This report turned out to be unfounded. Without fresh
quarrel Gray and Walpole had by this time drifted far apart
from one another. —[Ed.]

250 LETTERS.

XCIV. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke Hall, October 5, 1766.

DEAR MASON — I was going to write to you when I
received your letter, and on the same subject. The
first news I had was from Stonhewer on the 23d
September, in these words: "This morning Dr. Brown
dispatched himself. He had been for several days
past very low-spirited, and within the last two or
three talked of the necessity of dying, in such a
manner as to alarm the people about him. They
removed, as they thought, everything that might
serve his purpose ; but he had contrived to get at
a razor unknown to them, and took the advantage
of a minute's absence of his servants to make use of
it." I wrote to him again (I suspect he knows our
secret, though not from me) to make farther enquiries,
and he says, 27th September, " I have tried to find
out whether there was any appearance or cause of
discontent in Brown, but can hear of none. A bodily
complaint of the gouty kind, that fell upon the nerves
and affected his spirits in a very great degree, is all
that I can get any information of; and I am told
besides, that he was some years ago in the same
dejected way, and under the care of proper attend
ants." Mr. Wfalpole] too, in answer to a letter I
had written to enquire after his health, after giving
an account of himself while under the care of Pringle,
adds, " He (Pringle) had another patient at the same
time, who has ended very unhappily — that poor Dr.

LETTERS. 251

Brown. The unfortunate man apprehended himself
going mad, and two nights after cut his throat in
bed." This is all I know at present of the matter.
I have told it you literally, and I conceal nothing.
As I go to town to-morrow, if I learn anything more
you shall soon hear from me; in the meantime, I
think we may fairly conclude that, if he had had any
other cause added to his constitutional infirmity, it
would have been uppermost in his mind. He would
have talked or raved about it, and the first thing we
should have heard of would have been this, which, I
do assure you, I have never heard from anybody.
There is in this neighbourhood a Mr. Wall, who once
was in the Eussian trade, and married a woman of
that country. He always maintained that Dr. Brown
would never go thither, whatever he might pretend,
and that, though fond of the glory of being invited
thither, he would certainly find or make a pretence
for staying at home; very possibly, therefore, he
might have engaged himself so far that he knew not
how to draw back with honour, or might have received
rough words from the Russian minister, offended with
his prevarication. This supposition is at least as
likely as yours, added to what I have said before ;
much more so, if it be necessary to suppose any
other cause than the lunatic disposition of the man ;
and yet I will not disguise to you that I felt as you
do on the first news of this sad accident, and had the
same uneasy ideas about it.

I am sorry the cause you mention should be the

252 LETTERS.

occasion of your coming to London, though, perhaps,
change of air may do more than medicine. In this
length of time I should think you must be fully
apprised whether her looks, or strength, or embon
point have suffered by this cough; if not, surely
there is no real danger; yet I do not wonder she
should wish to get rid of so troublesome a com
panion.

When I can meet with the book I will transcribe
what you mention from Mallet. I shall write again
soon. Do you know of any great, or at least rich,
family that want a young man worth his weight in
gold, to take care of their eldest hope. If you do,
remember I have such a one, or shall have (I fear)
shortly to sell; but they must not stand haggling
about him; and besides, they must be very good
sort of people too, or they shall not have him.
Adieu. My respects to Mrs. Mason. — I am ever
sincerely yours, T. G.

Mr. Brown desires his best compliments to you
both.

XCV. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Jerinyn Street, at Mr. Roberta's.
October 9, 1766.

DEAR MASON — I am desired to tell you, that if you
still continue to be tired of residence, or are in any
way moderately ambitious or covetous, there never
was a better opportunity. The Duke of Graf ton is

LETTERS. 253

extremely well inclined, and you know who is at
hand to give his assistance ; but the apparent channel
should be your friend, Lord Holdernesse, who is upon
good terms. This was said to me in so friendly a
way, that I could not but acquaint you of it im
mediately.

I have made enquiry, since I came hither, on a
subject that seemed much to take up your thoughts,
and, I do assure you, find not the least grounds to
give you uneasiness. It was mere distemper, and
nothing more. Adieu. — I am sincerely yours,

T.G.

My respects to Mrs. Mason.

XCVI. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

October 14, 1766.

MY DEAR SIR — I have received a second instance of
your kindness and confidence in me ; and surely you
hazard nothing in trusting me with the whole of
your situation ; it appears not to me so new as it does
to you. You well know the tenour of my conver
sation (urged perhaps at times a little farther than
you liked) has been intended to prepare you for this
event, to familiarize your mind with this spectre that
you call by its worst name; but remember that
Honesta res est Iceta paupertas. I see it with respect,
and so will every one whose poverty is not seated in
their mind ; there is but one real evil in it (take my
word, who know it well), and that is, that you have

254 LETTERS.

less the power of assisting others who have not the
same resources to support them. It is this considera
tion that makes me remind you that Ansel l is lately
dead, a lay-fellow of your college ; that if Dr. Marriott
(whose follies let us pardon, because he has some
feeling, and means us well) be of little use, and if
Dr. Hallifax (another simple friend of ours, perhaps
with less sensibility) cannot serve us in this, yet Dr.
Eidlington 2 is not immortal ; you have always said to
succeed him was not impracticable : I know it would
be creditable, I know it would be profitable, I know
it would, in lieu of a little drudgery, bring you free
dom, that drudgery would with a little use grow easy.
In the meantime, if any better prospect present itself,
there you are ready to take advantage of the oppor
tunity ; in short, this was always my favourite project,
and now more than ever, for reasons that will occur
to yourself, — in waiting for the accomplishment of it
you will take orders ; and if your uncles are slow in
their motions, you will accept a curacy (for a title will

1 Ansel was a Fellow of Trinity Hall, twenty-two years
senior in standing to Mr. Nicholls. Dr. Samuel Hallifax was
originally of Jesus College, went to Trinity Hall somewhere
between 1757 and 1764, and in the latter year was created LL.D.,
elected Professor of Arabic in 1768, and relinquishing that
Professorship in 1770, was elected Professor of the Civil Law.
In 1781 he became Bishop of Gloucester, and in 1789 he was
translated to St. Asaph.— [Mit.]

2 Dr. William Ridlington, of Trinity Hall, Professor of Civil
Law from 1757 to his death in 1770. Gray probably alludes
to Nicholls succeeding Ridlington as Tutor of the College.
Nicholls took his deree of B.C.L. in 1766.— [

LETTERS. 255

be requisite), not under everybody that offers, but
under some gentlemanlike friendly man, and in a
Christian country. A profession you must have ; why
not then accommodate yourself cheerfully to its be
ginnings 1 you have youth, you have many kind well-
intentioned people belonging to you, many acquaint
ance of your own, or families that will wish to serve
you ; consider how many have had the same or
greater cause for dejection, with none of these re
sources before their eyes.

I am in town for a month or more, and wish to
hear from you soon. Mr. Walpole has indeed been
dangerously ill with the gout in his stomach, but
nothing paralytic, as was said ; he is much recovered,
and gone to Bath. Adieu, dear sir, I am faithfully
yours, T. G.

I will write again soon.

XCVII. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Jermyn Street, October 23, 1766.

DEAR SIR — I observed that Ansel was dead, and
made the same reflection about it that you did. I
also wrote to remind Npcholls] of it, but have heard
nothing since. We have great scarcity of news here.
Everything is in Lord Ch.'s breast. If what lies hid
there be no better than what comes to light, I would
not give sixpence to know it. Spain was certainly
offered to Lord Weymouth, and in the second place,
some say to Sandwich ; at last, perhaps, Sir James

256 LETTERS.

Gray may go. But who goes Secretary do you
think ? I leave Mr. T. and you ten guesses a-piece,
and yet they will be all wrong. Mr. Prowse has
refused the Post Office. I do not believe in any more
dukes, unless, perhaps, my Lord Marquis of Kocking-
ham should like it. The Prince of Wales has been
ill of what they call a fever. They say he is better,
but Sir J. Pringle continues to lie every night at
Kew. My Lady — - has discarded Thynne and
taken to Sir T. Delaval, they say. The clothes are
actually making, but possibly she may jilt them both.
The clerk who was displaced in the Post Office lost
£1700 a-year. Would you think there could be such
under-offices there1? Have you read Mr. Grenville's
Considerations l on the merits of his own administra
tion ? It is all figures ; so, I suppose, it must be true.
Have you read Mr. Sharp the surgeon's Travels into
Italy ? I recommend these two authors to you instead
of Livy and Quintilian.

Palgrave, I suppose, you have by this time seen
and sifted ; if not, I must tell you, his letter was
dated from Glamis,2 30th September, Tuesday night.
He was that day returned from my tour in the High
lands, delighted with their beauties, though he saw
the Alps last year. The Friday following he was to

1 George Grenville's Candid Refutation of the Charges brought
against the present Ministers, in a late pamphlet, entitled, The
Principles of the late Charges impartially considered, in a Letter
to the supposed Author. 8vo, 1765. — [Mit.]

2 Glamis, in Forfarshire, a seat of Lord Strathmore's.—
[Jftt.]

LETTERS. 257

set out for Hetton,1 where his stay would not be
long ; then pass four days at Newby,2 and as much at
York, and so to Cambridge, where, ten to one, he
has not yet arrived. Tom outstripped Lord Panmure
at the county court at Eorfar all to nothing. Dr.
Richmond 3 is body chaplain to the Duke of Athol,
lives at Dunkeld, and eats muir-fowls' livers every
day. If you know this already, who can help it ?

Pray tell me, how do you do ; and let me know
the sum total of my bill. Adieu. — I am ever yours,

T. G.

Commend me to Mr. Talbot and Dr. Gisborne.
Delaval is coming to you. Is Mr. Mapletoft there ?
If not, he will lie in my rooms.

XCVIII. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Jermyn Street, November 18, 1766.

DEAR SIR — I paid the sum above-mentioned this
morning at Gillam's office in Bishopsgate Street.
The remittance you will please to pay out of it. I
have not time to add all the bad news of the times,

1 Hetton, in Durham, was the seat of the Hon. Thomas Lyon,
brother of Lord Strathmore. — [Mit.~\

2 Newby was Mr. "Weddell's seat in Yorkshire. — [Mit.]

3 Probably Richard Richmond, who became Bishop of Sod or
and Man 1773, and died in 1780, son of a Sylvester Richmond,
rector of Walton, in Lancashire. He was of the family that
produced many clergymen of that name in the last century, all
descended from a Sylvester Richmond, a physician in Liverpool
towards the close of the 17th century. — [Mit.]

VOL. III. S

258 LETTERS.

but in a few days you shall have some of it ; though
the worst of all is just what I cannot write. I am
perfectly out of humour, and so will you be.

Mason is here, and has brought his wife, a pretty,
modest, innocent, interesting figure, looking like 18,
though she is near 28. She does not speak, only
whispers, and her cough as troublesome as ever ; yet
I have great hopes there is nothing consumptive.
She is strong and in good spirits. We were all at
the opera together on Saturday last. They desire
their loves to you. I have seen Mr. Talbot and
Delaval lately. Adieu. — I am ever yours, T.'G.

I cannot find Mons. de la Chalotais l in any of the
shops. Lord Strathmore, I am told, is to be married
here. I know nothing of Pa. but that he was still at
Mr. Weddell's a fortnight since. Be so good to tell
me you have received this, if you can, by the return
of the post.

XCIX. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke College, January 19, 1767.
DEAR SIR — Do not think I forget you all this time ;
nothing less ! I have daily thought on you, though
to little purpose; perhaps the sense of my own inutility
has been the reason of my silence; it is certain I
have been well enough, and enough alone for the seven

1 Probably the Mtmoires of Louis Rene de Chalotais (1701-
1785), the enemy of the Jesuits.— [Ed.]

LETTEES. 259

or eight weeks that I have passed here ; the last three
of them indeed (during this dreadful weather) I have
been nursing Mr. Brown, who has been under the
surgeon's hands, and now just begins to go across the
room. The moral of this is, that when you break
your skin, you should not put the black sticking-
plaster to it, which has been the cause of our suffer
ings ; and thus at other people's expense we become
wise, and thank heaven that it is not at our own.

I have often wished to talk to Dr. Hallifax about
you, but have been restrained by the fear that my
interposition, like your friend Dr. Marriott's, might
do more hurt than good. In the meantime, I do
suspect a little that our acquaintance at Nice is by no
means so near his end as all good Christians might
wish. My reasons are twofold. First, because I do
not remember ever to have read in any newspaper
that Lady Betty Beelzebub, or Master Moloch, or
even old Sir Satan himself, or any of the good family
were dead, therefore I may be allowed to doubt a
little of their mortality. Secondly, is it not very
possible that he may think his substitute here will
not so readily go on without rising in his terms, nor
do his drudgery so patiently unless he thought him
likely soon to return ? and as he has no such intention,
what else can he do but make himself worse than
he is, and order his nurse to write melancholy accounts
of him to her friends here 1

Had it not been for this ill-contrived notion of
mine, I should have been glad to hear your uncles

260 LETTERS.

were off their bargain.1 It is sure that the situation
you mention is reckoned as good as any part of the
county. I, who lately was in the county, know that
this is not saying a vast deal ; but, however, now I
wish it had succeeded. This at least we seem to learn
from it, that they are in earnest, which is the great
point; and I hope you have not been wanting in
acknowledgments, nor shewed the least sulkiness at
seeing the negotiation drop because the purchase was
dear. I desire you would give yourself no airs !

The letter to your father was the very thing I
meant to write to you about. If he is really dead,
or dead to shame and humanity, it is no matter, a
few words are lost ; if he lives, who knows what may
be the consequence ? Why are you not in orders yet,
pray 1 How have you passed this frightful piece of a
winter ? better, I daresay, and more comfortably than
I. I have many ddsagrdmens that surround me ; they
have not dignity enough to be called misfortunes, but
they feel heavy on my mind. Adieu ! — I wish you
all happiness, and am sincerely yours, T. G-.

1 The Rev. Norton Nicholls (1741-1809) was presented by
his uncles to the rectories of Sound and Bradwell in Suffolk in
1767. He rented a seat called Blundeston. He died November
22, 1809.— [Ed.]

LETTERS. 261

C. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke Hall, January 27, 1767.

DEAR MASON — Dean Swift says, one never should
write to one's friends but in high health and spirits.
By the way it is the last thing people in those circum
stances usually think of doing. But it is sure, if I
were to wait for them, I never should write at all.
At present, I have had for these six weeks a some
thing growing in my throat, which nothing does any
service to, and which will, I suppose, in due time stop
up the passage. I go however about, and the pain is
very little. You will say, perhaps, the malady is as
little, and the stoppage is in the imagination; no
matter for that. If it is not sufficient to prove want
of health (for indeed this is all I ail), it is so much
the stronger proof of the want of spirits. So, take it
as you please, I carry my point, and shew you that it is
very obliging in me to write at all. Indeed, perhaps
on your account, I should not have done it, but, after
three such weeks of Lapland weather, I cannot but
enquire after Mrs. Mason's health. If she has with
stood such a winter and her cough never the worse,
she may defy the doctors and all their works. Pray,
tell me how she is, for I interest myself for her, not
merely on your account, but on her own. These last
three mornings have been very vernal and mild. Has
she tasted the air of the new year, at least in Hyde
Park?

Mr. Brown will wait on her next week, and touch

262 LETTERS.

her. He has been confined to lie on a couch, and
under the surgeon's hands ever since the first of
January with a broken shin, ill doctored. He has
just now got abroad, and obliged to come to town
about Monday, on particular business.

Stonhewer was so kind as to tell me the mystery
now accomplished, before I received your letter. I
rejoice in all his accessions. I wish you would per
suade him to take unto him a wife, but do not let her
be a fine lady. Adieu. Present my respects and
good wishes to Argentile.1 — I am truly yours,

T. G.

t

CL— TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Sunday, February 15, 1767.

DEAR MASON — It grieves me to hear the bad account
you give of our poor patient's health. I will not
trouble you to enquire into the opinions of her physi
cians ; as you are silent on that head, I doubt you are
grown weary of the inutility of their applications. I,
you will remember, am at a distance, and cannot
judge, but by conjecture, of the progress her disorder
seems to make, and particularly of that increasing
weakness which seems, indeed, an alarming symptom.
I am told that the sea-air is advised as likely to be
beneficial, and that Lord Holdernesse offers you the
use of Walmer Castle,2 but that you wait till the

1 Mrs. Mason.

2 Lord Holdernesse had the Cinque Ports given to him on
his retirement from office. — [Hit.]

LETTERS. 263

spring is more advanced to put this in execution. I
think I should by no means delay at all. The air of
the coast is at all seasons warmer than that of the in
land country. The weather is now mild and open,
and (unless the rains increase) fit for travelling.
Remember how well she bore the journey to London ;
and it is certain that sort of motion, in her case,
instead of fatigue, often brings an accession of
strength. I have lately seen that coast, and been in
Deal Castle, which is very similar in situation to
Walmer and many other little neighbouring forts ; no
doubt, you may be very well lodged and accommo
dated there. The scene is delightful in fine weather,
but in a stormy day and high wind (and we are but
just got so far in the year as the middle of February),
exposed to all the rage of the sea and full force of the
east wind ; so that, to a person unused to the sea, it
may be even dreadful. My idea, therefore, is that
you might go at present to Eamsgate, which is
sheltered from the north, and opening only to the
south and south-east, with a very fine pier to walk
on.1 It is a neat town, seemingly, with very clean
houses to lodge in, and one end of it only running
down to the shore ; it is at no season much pestered
with company, and at present, I suppose, there is

1 Sir Egerton Brydges told me that when Gray was staying
in Kent with his friend the Rev. W. Robinson they went over
to Bamsgate. The stone pier had just been built. Some one
said, " For what did they make this pier ? " Gray immediately
said, "For me to walk on," and proceeded, with long strides, to
claim possession of it. — \_Mit. ~\

264 LETTERS.

nobody there. If you find Mrs. Mason the better for
this air and situation (which God send), when May
and fine settled weather come in, you will easily
remove to Walmer, which at that season will be
delightful to her. If — forgive me for supposing the
worst, your letter leaves me too much reason to do
so, though I hope it was only the effect of a melan
choly imagination — if it should be necessary to meet
the spring in a milder climate than ours is, you are
very near Dover, and perhaps this expedient (if she
grow very visibly worse) may be preferable to all
others, and ought not to be deferred : it is usually
too long delayed.

There are a few words in your letter that make me
believe you wish I were in town. I know myself
how little one like me is formed to support the spirits
of another, or give him consolation ; one that always
sees things in their most gloomy aspect. However,
be assured I should not have left London while you
were in it, if I could well have afforded to stay there
till the beginning of April, when I am usually there.
This, however, shall be no hindrance, if you tell me it
would signify anything to you that I should come
sooner. Adieu : you (both of you) have my best
and sincerest good wishes. — I am ever yours,

T. G.

P. S. — Remember, if you go into Kent, that W.
Robinson lives at Denton (eight miles from Dover) ;
perhaps he and his wife might be of some little use to

j LETTERS. 265

you. Him you know ; and for her, she is a very good-
humoured, cheerful woman, that (I dare swear) would
give any kind of assistance in her power ; remember,
too, to take whatever medicines you use with you
from London. A country apothecary's shop is a
terrible thing.1

My respects to Dr. Gisborne, and love to Ston-
hewer. When you have leisure and inclination, I
should be very glad to hear from you. Need I repeat
my kindest good wishes to Mrs. Mason.

GIL — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

March 28, 1767.

MY DEAR MASON — I break in upon you at a moment
when we least of all are permitted to disturb our
friends, only to say that you are daily and hourly
present to my thoughts. If the worst be not yet
passed, you will neglect and pardon me ; but if the
last struggle be over, if the poor object of your long
anxieties be no longer sensible to your kindness, or to
her own sufferings, allow me (at least in idea, for
what could I do were I present more than this), to
sit by you in silence, and pity from my heart, not her
who is at rest, but you who lose her. May He who
made us, the Master of our pleasures and of our pains,
preserve and support you. Adieu !

1 So it was in those days, for Adam Smith computes the
value of all the drugs in the shop of a country apothecary at no
more than £25 ! — [Mit. ]

266 LETTERS.

I have long understood how little you had to
hope.1

CHI. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Jermyn Street, May 23, 1767.

DEAR MASON — All this time have I been waiting to say
something to the purpose, and now am just as far off
as at first. Stuart appointed Mr. Weddell an hour
when I was to meet him; and (after staying an
infinite while at his lodgings in expectation) he never
came, indeed he was gone out of town. The drawing
and your questions remain in Weddell's hands to be
shewn to this rogue as soon as he can meet with him ;
but I firmly believe when he has got them he will do
nothing, so you must tell me what I am to do with
them. I have shown the Epitaph to no one but
Hurd, who entirely approves it. He made no
objection but to one line (and that was mine),2
"Heav'n lifts," etc., so if you please to make another
you may ; for my part I rather like it still.

I begin to think of drawing northwards (if my
wretched matters will let me), and am going to write
to Mr. Brown about it. You are to consider whether
you will be able or willing to receive us at Aston

1 As this little billet, which I received at the Hot Wells
almost the precise moment when it would be most affecting,
then breathed and still seems to breathe the voice of friendship
in its tenderest and most pathetic note, I cannot refrain from
publishing it in this place. — [Mason.}

2 According to Nicholls, Gray wrote the last four lines of
Mason's Epitaph on his wife. — [Ed. ]

LETTEKS. 267

about a fortnight hence; or whether we are to find
you at York, where I suppose you to be at present.
This you will let me know soon ; and if I am disap
pointed I will tell you in time. You will tell me
what to do with your Zumpe,1 which has amused me
much here. If you would have it sent down, I had
better commit it to its maker, who will tune it and
pack it up. Dr. Long 2 has bought the fellow to it.
The base is not quite of a piece with the treble, and the
higher notes are somewhat dry and sticky. The rest
discourses very eloquent music. Adieu, dear Sir, I
am ever yours, T. G.

Gisborne, Eraser, and Stonhewer often enquire
after you, with many more.

CIV. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Jermyn Street, June 2, 1767.

DEAR SIR — Where are you ? for I wrote to you last
week to know how soon we should set out, and how
we should go. Mason writes to-day, he will expect

1 This I presume alludes to the musical instrument invented
by Mason, mentioned in the Walpole and Mason correspondence
as the Celestinette. Does Gray call it a Zumpe from the Zam~
pogna, an instrumento pastorale, mentioned by Bonanni in his
Descrizione dcgli Instruments Armonici, 1806, 4to, pp. 85, 86,
figs, xxvii. xxviii. ? but that was a wind instrument. — [Mit.]
Was it not rather a noun derived from the sound of the verb
zombare, to thump or bang, Mason's instrument being one, the
keys of which had to be struck ?— [Ed. ]

2 Dr. Long, the Master of Pembroke College, had a scientific
knowledge of music and of musical instruments. — [Mit.]

268 LETTERS.

us at Aston in Whitsun-week ; and has ordered all
his lilacs and roses to be in flower. What can you be
doing ? And so as I said, shall we go in the New
castle post-coach or the York coach1? Will you
choose to come to town or be taken up on the way 1
Or will you go all the way to Bantry in a chaise with
me and see sights 1 Answer me speedily. In return
I will tell you, that you will soon hear great news ;
but whether good or bad is hard to say ; therefore I
shall prudently tell you nothing more. Adieu. — I
am ever yours, T. G.

Old Pa. is still here, going to Kanelagh and the
Opera. Lady Strathmore is with child, and not very
well, as I hear.

CV. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Jermyn Street, Saturday, June 6, 1767.

DEAR SIR — My intention is (Deo wlente) to come to
Cambridge on Friday or Saturday next; and shall
expect to set out on Monday following. I shall write
to Mason by to-night's post, who otherwise would
expect us all Whitsun-week. Pray that the Trent
may not intercept us at Newark, for we have had
infinite rain here, and they say every brook sets up
for a river.

I said nothing of Lady M. Lyon, because I thought
you knew she had been long despaired of. The family
I hear now do not go into Scotland till the races are
over, nor perhaps then, as my lady will be advancing

LETTERS. 269

in her pregnancy, and I should not suppose the Peats
or the Firth very proper in her condition ; but women
are courageous creatures when they are set upon a
thing.

Lord Bute is gone ill into the country with an
ague in his eye and a bad stomach. Lord Holland
is alive and well, and has written three poems ; the
only line1 in which, that I have heard, is this : —
" White-liver'd Grenville and self-loving Gower."

Lord Chatham is , and the Eockinghams

are like the brooks that I mentioned above. This is
all the news that I know. Adieu. — I am ever yours,

T. a

How do you do, good Mr. Brown? Do your
inclinations begin to draw northward, as mine do,
and may I take you a place soon ? I wait but for an
answer from Mason how to regulate our journey,
which I should hope may take place in a little more
than a week. I shall write a line again to settle the
exact day, but you may now tell me whether you
will come to town, or be taken up at Buckden, or
thirdly, whether you will go in a chaise with me by
short journeys, and see places in our way. I dined
yesterday on Eichmond Hill, after seeing Chiswick,

1 The poem from which this line is taken, the editor of the
Selwyn Correspondence tells us (vol. ii. p. 162), was printed on
a handsome broad sheet, entitled, "Lord Holland's Return from
Italy, 1767." In a letter on the 9th of the previous May, he
alludes to his having made some poetry as he came over Mount
Cenis.— [Mil.]

270 LETTERS.

and Strawberry, and Sion ; and be assured the face
of the country looks an emerald, if you love jewels.

The Westminster Theatre is like to come to a
sudden end. The manager will soon embark for
Italy without Callista.1 The reason is a speech,
which his success in Lothario emboldened him to
make the other day in a greater theatre. It was on
the subject of America, and added so much strength
to the opposition, that they came within six of the
majority. He did not vote, however, though his two
brothers did, and, like good boys, with the ministry.
For this he has been rattled on both sides of his ears,
and forbid to appear there any more. The Houses
wait with impatience the conclusion of the East
India business to rise. The E. of Chatham is mend
ing slowly in his health, but sees nobody on business
yet, nor has he since he came from Marlborough :
yet he goes out daily for an airing.

I have seen his lordship of Cloyne2 often. He is
very jolly, and we devoured four raspberry -puffs
together in Cranbourn- alley standing at a pastry
cook's shop in the street ; but he is gone, and Heaven
knows when we shall eat any more.

1 " This is not the only walk of fame he (Duke of York) has
lately chosen. He is acting plays with Lady Stanhope (wife of
Sir Wm. Stanhope) and her family the Delavals. They have
several times played the Fair Penitent. His Royal Highness is
Lothario ; the lady, I am told, an admirable Callista. They
have a pretty little theatre at Westminster ; but none of the
Royal family have been audience." — [Walpole.]

2 The Hon. Frederic William Hervey.

LETTERS. 271

Rousseau you see is gone too. I read his letter to
my Lord Chancellor from Spalding, and hear he has
written another long one to Mr. Conway from Dover,
begging he might no longer be detained here. He
retains his pension. The whole seems madness in
creasing upon him. There is a most bitter satire on
him and his Madlle. le Vasseur, written by Voltaire,
and called Guerre de Geneve.1 Adieu, and let me hear
from you. — I am ever yours, T. G.

How do our Elmsted friends ? 2 Are they married
yet ? Old Pa. is here, and talks of writing soon to
you.

CVI. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Jermyn Street, June 6, 1767.

DEAR MASON — We are a-coming, but not so fast as
you think for, because Mr. Brown cannot think of
stirring till Whitsun week is over. The Monday
following we propose to set out in our chaise. Do
not think of sending Benjamin, I charge you. We
shall find our way from Bantry very cleverly.

I shall bring with me a drawing which Stuart3 has

1 La Guerre Civile de Gen&ve, ou les Amours de, Robert Covelle,
poeme heroique, avec des notes instructivea, 1768. — [Mit.]

2 This is one of the allusions which, from the length of time
that has elapsed, it seems hopeless to explain. There are two
parishes of that name, but no inquiries in them have thrown
any light on the Elmsted friends. — [Mit.]

3 This was probably the architect, "Athenian " Stuart, but
what the drawing was is unknown. — [Ed.]

272 LETTERS.

made. He approves your sketch highly, and there
fore, I suppose, has altered it in every particular, not
at all for the better in my mind. He says you should
send him an account of the place and position, and a
scale of the dimensions. This is what I modestly
proposed before, but you give no ear to me. The
relief in artificial stone, he thinks, would come to
about eight guineas.

Poor Mr. Fitzherbert1 had a second son, who was
at Caen. He complained of a swelling, and some
pain, in his knee, which rather increasing upon him,
his father sent for him over. The surgeons agreed
it was a white swelling, and he must lose his leg.
He underwent the operation with great fortitude, but
died the second day after it. Adieu. — I am ever
yours, T. G-.

I rejoice Mr. Wood2 is well, and present my
humble service to him.

CVII. — TO THOMAS WJIARTON.

Aston, Sunday, June 21, 1767.

DEAR DOCTOR — Here we are, Mr. Brown and I, in a
wilderness of sweets, an elysium among the coal pits,
a terrestrial heaven. Mind, it is not I, but Mason,

1 Thomas Fitzherbert was in the navy, and on board of his
vessel got a severe crush, and so injured the limb, as to render
amputation necessary : he was uncle to the present baronet,
Sir Henry Fitzherbert of Tissington.— [Mit.]

2 Perhaps Robert Wood (1716-1771), who wrote the Essay
on Homer and the Ruins of Palmyra. — [Ed.]

LETTEKS. 273

that says all this, and bids me tell it you. To-morrow
we visit Dovedale and the wonders of the Peak, the
Monday following we go to York to reside and two
or three days after set out for Old Park, where I
shall remain upon your hands ; and Mr. Brown about
the time of Durham races must go on to Gibside, and
for aught I know to Glamis. Mason remains tied
down to his Minster for half a year. He and Mr.
Brown desire their best compliments to you and Mrs.
Wharton. Adieu ! I am ever yours, m Q .

Mr. Brown owns the pleasantest day he ever
past was yesterday at Koche Abbey. It is indeed
divine.

CVIII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Old Park, near Darlington, July 10, 1767.
DEAR MASON — We are all impatient to see you in
proportion to our various interests and inclinations.
Old Park thinks she must die a maid, if you do not
come and lay her out. The river Atom weeps herself
dry, and the Minikin cries aloud for a channel. When
you can determine on your own motions, we pray you
to give us immediate notice.1 Soon as you arrive at
Darlington you will go to the King's Head, where
may be had two postillions, either of which know the

1 Mason did not come ; he replied that his old aunt had not
left him so much money that he could "come and make ducks
and drakes in the Minikin." — [Ed.]

VOL. III. T

274 LETTERS.

road hither. It is about sixteen miles, and runs by
Kirk Merrington and Spennymoor House;1 a little
rough, but not bad or dangerous in any part. Your
aunt, I hope, is well again, and little Clough pro
duces a plentiful crop : delay, therefore, no longer.

Mr. Brown is enchanted and beatified with the
sight of Durham, whither he went yesterday. I per
formed your commission to Mrs. "Wilkinson, who
expressed herself, I thought, like a woman of a good
heart, and wished much to see you. Adieu: we
really long for you. .

CIX.— TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Old Park, Sunday, July 19, 1767.

DEAR MASON — I come forthwith to the epitaph which
you have had the charity to write at the Archbishop's
request. It will certainly do (for it is both touching
and new), but yet will require much finishing. I like
not the first three lines : it is the party most nearly
concerned, at least some one closely connected, and
bearing a part of the loss, that is usually supposed
to speak on these occasions, but these lines appear
to be written by the chaplain, and have an air of
flattery to his patron. All that is good in them is
better expressed in the four last verses : " where the
cold ashes," etc. These five verses are well, except

1 Old Park, where Gray was staying, the residence of Dr.
Wharton, is a little distant in a northern direction from
Bishop's Auckland and Merrington.— [Mit. ]

LETTERS. 275

the word "benignant," and the thought (which is
not clear to me, besides that it is somewhat hardly
expressed) of " when beauty only blooms," etc. In
gems that want colour and perfection, a foil is put
under them to add to their lustre. In others, as in
diamonds, the foil is black ; and in this sense, when
a pretty woman chooses to appear in public with a
homely one, we say she uses her as a foil. This
puzzles me, as you neither mean that beauty sets off
virtue by its contrast and opposition to it, nor that
her virtue was so imperfect as to stand in need of
beauty to heighten its lustre. For the rest I read,
"that sweetest harmony of soul," etc.; "such was
the maid," etc. All this to the end I much approve,
except "crowned with truth," and "lightens all their
load." The first is not precise; in the latter you
say too much. " Spreads his child," too, is not the
word. When you have corrected all these faults it
will be excellent.

I thank you for your comments on my inaccurate
metaphor ; in return, I will be sure to shew them to
the parties who should have wrote them, and who
doubtless, when they see them, will acknowledge
them for their own. We are all much in want of
you, and have already put off two journeys, because
we thought you were to come on Mondays. Pray
tell us your mind out of hand, lest we lose all our
future Mondays. Mr. Brown has not above another
week to stay with us (for Lord Strathmore comes on
the 27th out of Scotland), and must go into the

276 LETTERS.

third heaven to see nothing at all — all — all.1 Adieu.
— I am truly yours, T. G.

No news of Palgrave.

CX. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Old Park, July 26, 1767.

DEAR MASON — You are very perverse. I do desire
you would not think of dropping the design you had
of obliging the Archbishop. I submitted my criti
cisms to your own conscience, and I allowed the
latter half to be excellent, two or three little words
excepted. If this will not do, for the future I must
say (whatever you send me) that the whole is the
most perfect thing in nature, which is easy to do
when one knows it will be acceptable. Seriously, I
should be sorry if you did not correct these lines, and
am interested enough for the party (only upon your
narrative) to wish he were satisfied in it, for I am edi
fied when I hear of so mundane a man, that yet he has
a tear for pity.

By the way, I ventured to shew the other epitaph
to Dr. Wharton, and sent him brim-full into the next
room to cry. I believe he did not hear it quite through,
nor has he ever asked to hear it again; and now will
you not come and see him?

We are just come back from a little journey to

1 John, ninth Earl of Strathmore, married 1767 the great
Durham heiress, daughter of George Bowes, Esq., of Streatlam
Castle. This earl died April 1776.— [Mit.]

LETTEES. 277

Barnard Castle, Rokeby, and Richmond (Mr. Brown
and all). Some thoughts we have of going for two or
three days to Hartlepool ; then we (Dr. "W. and I),
talk of seeing Westmoreland and Cumberland, and
perhaps the west of Yorkshire ; the mountains I mean,
for we despise the plains. Then at our return I write
to you, not to shew my talent at description, but to
ask again whether you will come or no. Adieu. — I
wish you health and peace of mind, and am ever
yours, T. G.

Mr. Brown and the Dr. desire their compliments to
Mr. Robinson.

CXI. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Old Park, Sunday, August 9, 1767.

DEAR MASON — I have been at Hartlepool like any
thing, and since that, visiting about (which is the
sum of all my country expeditions), so that I was
not able to write to you sooner. To-morrow I go
vizzing to Gibside to see the new married countess,1
whom (bless my eyes!) I have seen here already.
There I drop our beatified friend, who goes into
Scotland with them, and return hither all alone.
Soon after I hope to go into Cumberland, etc., and
when that is over shall let you know.

I exceedingly approve the epitaph in its present

1 Lady Strathmore. Gibside is a seat of Lord Strathmore's
in Durham, not far from Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and near to
Ravensworth Castle. — [Mit.]

278 LETTERS.

shape. Even what I best liked before is altered for
the better. The various readings I do not mind,
only, perhaps, I should read the 2d line :

" Grace that with tenderness and sense combined,
To form," etc.

for I hate " sentiment" in verse. I will say nothing
to "taste" and "truth," for perhaps the Archbishop
may fancy they are fine things; but, to my palate,
they are wormwood. All the rest is just as it should
be, and what he ought to admire.

Billy Hervey1 went directly to Durham, and called
not here. He danced at the Assembly with a con
quering mien, and all the misses swear he is the
genteelest thing they ever set eyes on, and wants
nothing but two feet more in height. The Doctor
and Mr. Brown send their blessing ; and I am ever
yours, T. G.

CXII. — TO JAMES BEATTIE.

Old Park, near Darlington, Durham,
August 12, 1767. '

I RECEIVED from Mr. Williamson, that very obliging
mark you were pleased to give me of your remem
brance. Had I not entertained some slight hopes of
revisiting Scotland this summer, and consequently of
seeing you at Aberdeen, I had sooner acknowledged,
by letter, the favour you have done me. Those hopes
are now at an end ; but I do not therefore despair of

1 Frederic William Hervey, Bishop of Cloyne.

LETTEES. 279

seeing again a country that has given me so much
pleasure; nor of telling you, in person, how much I
esteem you and (as you choose to call them) your
amusements : the specimen of them, which you were
so good as to send me, I think excellent ; the senti
ments are such as a melancholy imagination naturally
suggests in solitude and silence, and that (though
light and business may suspend or banish them at
times) return with but so much the greater force
upon a feeling heart : the diction is elegant and un
constrained ; not loaded with epithets and figures,
nor flagging into prose ; the versification is easy and
harmonious. My only objection is . . .*

You see, Sir, I take the liberty you indulged me
in when I first saw you ; and therefore I make no
excuses for it, but desire you would take your revenge
on me in kind.

I have read over (but too hastily) Mr. Ferguson's
book. There are uncommon strains of eloquence in
it : and I was surprised to find not one single idiom
of his country (I think) in the whole work. He has
not the fault you mention.2 His application to the

1 The erasure here was made by Mason in compliment to
Beattie.— [Ed.]

2 To explain this I must take the liberty to transcribe a
paragraph from Mr. Beattie's letter, dated March 30, to which
the above is an answer : " A Professor at Edinburgh has pub
lished an ' Essay on the History of Civil Society,' but I have not
seen it. It is a fault common to almost all our Scotch authors,
that they are too metaphysical. I wish they would learn to
speak more to the heart, and less to the understanding ; but
alas ! this is a talent which heaven only can bestow : whereas

280 LETTERS.

heart is frequent, and often successful. His love of
Montesquieu and Tacitus has led him into a manner
of writing too short-winded and sententious ; which
those great men, had they lived in better times and
under a better government, would have avoided.

I know no pretence that I have to the honour Lord
Gray is pleased to do me:1 but if his Lordship chooses
to own me, it certainly is not my business to deny it.
I say not this merely 6*n account of his quality, but
because he is a very worthy and accomplished person.
I am truly sorry for the great loss he has had since I
left Scotland. If you should chance to see him, I
will beg you to present my respectful humble service
to his Lordship.

I gave Mr. Williamson all the information I was
able in the short time he staid with me. He seemed
to answer well the character you gave me of him :
but what I chiefly envied in him, was his ability of
walking all the way from Aberdeen to Cambridge,
and back again ; which if I possessed, you would soon
see your obliged, etc.

the philosophic spirit (as we call it) is merely artificial and
level to the capacity of every man, who has much patience, a
little learning, and no taste." He has since dilated on this
just sentiment in his admirable "Essay on the Immutability
of Truth. "—{Mason.}

1 Lord Gray had said that our Author was related to his
family. — [ Mason. ]

LETTERS. 281

CXIII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Old Park, September 11, 1767.

DEAR MASON — I admire you as the pink of perversity.
How did I know about York races, and how could I
be more explicit about our journey1?1 The truth is,
I was only too explicit by half, for we did not set out
in earnest till the 29th of August, being delayed,
partly by the bad weather, and partly by your cousin,
nay Lord Perrot, and his assizes, whose train we were
afraid to overtake, and still more afraid of being
overtaken by it. At last then we went in the sun
and dust broiling to Newcastle, and so by the military
road to Hexham at night, where it began to rain, and
continued like fury, with very short intervals, all the
rest of our way. So we got to Carlisle, passed a day
there in raining and seeing delights. Next day got
to Penrith — more delights; the next dined and lay
at Keswick; could not go a mile to see anything.
Dr. Wharton taken ill in the night with an asthma.
Went on, however, over stupendous hills to Cocker-
mouth. Here the Doctor grew still worse in the
night, so we came peppering and raining back through
Keswick- to Penrith. Next day lay at Brough, grew
better, raining still, and so over Stonemoor home.
September 5. — In a heavy thunder-shower. Now
you will think from this detail, which is literally true,
that we had better have staid at home. No such

1 Gray passed all the latter part of this summer in the North
of England, with his friends Mr. Brown and Dr. Wharton.

282 LETTERS.

thing; I am charmed with my journey, and the
Doctor dreams of nothing but Skiddaw, and both of
us vow to go again the first opportunity. I carried
Mr. Brown to Gibside the llth of August, and took
a receipt for him ; they did not set out for Scotland
till the 1st of September, and as yet I have not heard
from him.

If you are not too much afflicted for the loss of
Charles Townshend, now is your time to come and
see us. In spite of your coquetry, we still wish of
all things to see you, and (bating that vice, and a few
more little faults) have a good opinion of you, only
we are afraid you have a bad heart. I have known
purse-proud people often complain of their poverty,
which is meant as an insult upon the real poor. How
dare you practise this upon me? Do not I know
little Clough ? Here is a fuss indeed about a poor
three-score miles. Don't I go galloping five hundred,
whenever I please ? Have done with your tricks, and
come to Old Park, for the peaches and grapes send
forth a good smell, and the voice of the robin is
heard in our land. My services to Mr. Alderson,1
for he is a good creature. But I forget, you are at
York again. Adieu ! I am, ever yours,

T. G.

The Doctor presents his compliments to you with
great cordiality, and desires your assistance. One of

1 The Rev. Christopher Alderson, then curate to Mr. Mason,
subsequently Rector of Aston and Eckington. — [ Mason. ]

LETTERS. 283

his daughters has some turn for drawing, and he would
wish her a little instructed in the practice. If you
have any professor of the art at York, that would
think it worth his while to pass about six weeks
here, he would be glad to receive him. His conditions
he would learn from you. If he have any merit in
his art, doubtless so much the better. But above all
he must be elderly, and if ugly and ill-made so much
the more acceptable. The reasons we leave to your
prudence.

CXIV. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

York, Saturday, October 31, 1767.

DEAR SIR — I have received a letter from Howe;
another from Mr. Beattie ; and a third, which was a
printed catalogue, from London. The parcel sent to
Cambridge was a set of Algarotti's works for your
library, which need not be impatient if it remain
unopened till I come. The Doctor and I came hither
on Saturday last. He returned on Wednesday, and
I set out for London (pray for me), at ten o'clock to
morrow night. You will please to direct to me at
Roberts's, as usual, and when it is convenient I shall
be glad of my bill. I will trouble you also to give
notice of my motions to Miss Antrobus as soon as
you can.

Here has been Lord Holdernesse's ugly face since
I was here, and here actually is Mr. Weddell, who
enquires after you. Pa. is in London with his

284 LETTERS.

brother,1 who is desperate. If he dies, we shall not
be a shilling the better, so we are really very sorrow
ful. Mason desires his love to you. Adieu, the
Minster bell rings. — I am ever yours, T. G.

I rejoice greatly at N.'s good luck

CXV. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Jermyn Street, November 5, 1767.

DEAR SIR — I am come, and shall rejoice to con
gratulate you face to face on your good luck, which is
wonderful in my eyes. I hope there are ncmibs in
the way to prevent my seeing you snug in the rectory,
surrounded with fat pigs and stubble -geese, and
Madam in her grogram gown doing the honours of
Lovingland,2 at the head of your table.

I have much to say, so much that I shall say no
more; but come quickly, if the main chance will
suffer you, or I will know the reason why. Adieu !
— I am sincerely yours, T. G.

1 Mr. Palgrave's elder brother here alluded to took the name
of Sayer, and married Miss Tyrell of Gipping, afterwards Lady
Mary Heselrigge. The Palgrave family, connected by marriage
with the Burtons of Staffordshire (of which was the celebrated
author of the Anatomy of Melancholy}, and afterwards of
Leicestershire and Derbyshire, settled at Homersfield and
Aldersea Park, and also with the Fountaynes of Narford,
Norfolk, and with the Lawsons of Boroughbridge, Yorkshire. —
[Jflfc]

2 This is Gray's little pun on the name of the district in
Suffolk where Nicholls lived, Lothingland. — [Ed.]

LETTERS. 285

CXVI. — TO JAMES BEATTIE.

Pembroke Hall, December 24, 1767.

SINCE I had the pleasure of receiving your last letter,
which did not reach me till I had left the North, and
was come to London, I have been confined to my
room with a fit of the gout : now I am recovered and
in quiet at Cambridge, I take up my pen to thank
you for your very friendly offers, which have so much
the air of frankness and real good meaning, that were
my body as tractable and easy of conveyance as my
mind, you would see me to-morrow in the chamber
you have so hospitably laid out for me at Aberdeen.
But, alas ! I am a summer -bird, and can only sit
drooping till the sun returns : even then too my wings
may chance to be clipped, and little in plight for so
distant an excursion.

The proposal you make me, about printing at
Glasgow what little I have ever written, does me
honour. I leave my reputation in that part of the
kingdom to your care ; and only desire you would
not let your partiality to me and mine mislead you.
If you persist in your design, Mr. Foulis certainly
ought to be acquainted with what I am now going to
tell you. When I was in London the last spring,
Dodsley, the bookseller, asked my leave to reprint,
in a smaller form, all I ever published ; to which I
consented : and added, that I would send him a few
explanatory notes ; and if he would omit entirely the
Long Story (which was never meant for the public,

286 LETTERS.

and only suffered to appear in that pompous edition
because of Mr. Bentley's designs, which were not in
telligible without it), I promised to send him some
thing else to print instead of it, lest the bulk of so
small a volume should be reduced to nothing at all.
Now it is very certain that I had rather see them
printed at Glasgow (especially as you will condescend
to revise the press) than at London ; but I know not
how to retract my promise to Dodsley. By the way,
you perhaps may imagine that I have some kind of
interest in this publication ; but the truth is, I have
none whatever. The expense is his, and so is the
profit, if there be any. I therefore told him the
other day, in general terms, that I heard there would
be an edition put out in Scotland by a friend of
mine, whom I could not refuse ; and that, if so, I
would send thither a copy of the same notes and
additions that I had promised to send to him. This
did not seem at all to cool his courage ; Mr. Foulis
must therefore judge for himself, whether he thinks
it worth while to print what is going to be printed
also at London. If he does I will send him (in a
packet to you) the same things I shall send to Dodsley.
They are imitations of two pieces of old Norwegian
poetry, in which there was a wild spirit that struck
me ; but for my paraphrases I cannot say much ; you
will judge. The rest are nothing but a few parallel
passages, and small notes just to explain what people
said at the time was wrapped in total darkness.
You will please to tell me, as soon as you can con-

LETTERS. 287

veniently, what Mr. Foulis says on this head ; that
(if he drops the design) I may save myself and you
the trouble of this packet. I ask your pardon for
talking so long about it ; a little more and my letter
would be as big as all my works.

I have read, with much pleasure, an Ode of yours
(in which you have done me the honour to adopt a
measure that I have used) on Lord Hay's birth-day.
Though I do not love panegyric, I cannot but applaud
this, for there is nothing mean in it. The diction is
easy and noble, the texture of the thoughts lyric, and
the versification harmonious. The few expressions I
object to are . . -1 These, indeed, are minutiae;
but they weigh for something, as half a grain makes
a difference in the value of a diamond.

CXVII. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

December 31, 1767.

DEAR NICHOLLS — Write by all means forthwith to
Lord Lisburne, give a little into his way of thinking,
seem to fear you have gone a little too far in com
municating so much of Temple's letter, which was
not intended for his eye ; but say you thought, you
saw at bottom so much of respect and affection for
him, that you had the less scruple to lay open the
weaknesses and little suspicions of a friend, that
(you know beyond a doubt) very gratefully and sin-

1 Another paragraph of criticism is here omitted by Mason.
-[Ed.]

288 LETTERS.

cerely loves him ; remind him eloquently (that is from
your heart, and in such expressions as that will
furnish) how many idle suspicions a sensible mind,
naturally disposed to melancholy, and depressed by
misfortune, is capable of entertaining, especially if it
meets with but a shadow of neglect or contempt
from the very (perhaps the only) person, in whose
kindness it had taken refuge. Remind him of his
former goodness frankly and generously shewn to
Temple, and beg him not to destroy the natural
effects of it by any appearance of pique or resent
ment, for that even the fancies and chimeras of a
worthy heart deserve a little management and even
respect. Assure him, as I believe you safely may,
that a few kind words, the slightest testimony of
his esteem will brush away all Temple's suspicions
and gloomy thoughts, and that there will need
after this no constraint on his own behaviour (no,
not so much as to ring a bell), for when one is
secure of people's intentions, all the rest passes for
nothing.

To this purpose (but in my own way) would I
write, and mighty respectfully withall. It will come
well from you, and you can say without consequence
what in Temple himself it would be mean to say.
Lord Lisburne is rather more piqued than needs
methinks ; the truth is, the cause of this quarrel on
paper do appear puerile, as to the matter; but the
manner is all, and that we do not see. I rather
stick by my Lord still, and am set against Madam

LETTERS. 289

Minx, yet (as I told you before) the house lies hard
at my stomach.

There are many letters and things that I never
saw, as that strange one in Wales, and that to Lady
Lisburne, now without these how can I judge 1 you
have seen more of the matter, and perhaps may be
right, but as yet I do not believe it. What can that
firm and spirited letter be ? I fear it will make matters
worse ; and yet it was sent away before he had seen
Temple's letter to you, if he had, it would have made
it worse still.

You ask, if you should copy Lord Lisburne's and
send it to Temple, I think rather not : he has now
had one from him himself: if you are obliged to
do so, it should be only the sense of it, and that
abated and mollified, especially, all that tastes of
contempt.

Adieu ! bless your stars, that you are snug in fat-
goose living, without a Minx, and without a Lord.
I am faithfully yours.

CXVIII. — TO JAMES BEATTIE.

Pembroke Hall, February 1, 1768.

I AM almost sorry to have raised any degree of im
patience in you, because I can by no means satisfy
it. The sole reason I have to publish these few
additions now, is to make up (in both) for the omis
sion of that Long Story; and as to the notes, I do
it out of spite, because the public did not under-

VOL. III. u

290 LETTERS.

stand the two Odes (which I have called Pindaric) ;
though the first was not very dark, and. the second
alluded to a few common facts to be found in any
sixpenny history of England, by way of question
and answer, for the use of children. The parallel
passages I insert out of justice to those writers from
whom I happened to take the hint of any line, as
far as I can recollect.

I rejoice to be in the hands of Mr. Foulis, who
has the laudable ambition of surpassing his pre
decessors, the Etiennes and the Elzevirs, as well in
literature, as in the proper art of his profession : he
surprises me in mentioning a Lady, after whom I
have been inquiring these fourteen years in vain.
When the two Odes were first published, I sent
them to her ; but as I was forced to direct them very
much at random, probably they never came to her
hands. When the present edition comes out, I beg
of Mr. Foulis to offer her a copy, in my name, with
my respects and grateful remembrances; he will
send another to you, Sir, and a third to Lord Gray,
if he will do me the honour of accepting it. These
are all the presents I pretend to make (for I would
have it considered only as a new edition of an old
book) ; after this if he pleases to send me one or
two, I shall think myself obliged to him. I cannot
advise him to print a great number; especially as
Dodsley has it in his power to print as many as he
pleases, though I desire him not to do so.

You are very good to me in taking this trouble

LETTERS. 291

upon you : all I can say is, that I shall be happy to
return it in kind, whenever you will give me the
opportunity.

CXIX. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — Many and various maladies have I
laboured under, since I left the North, but none of
them . (thanks to my summer expedition) jusqu1 a
mourir. The gout came regularly, while I was in
town, first in one, then in the other foot, but so tame
you might have stroked it. Since I got hither, another
of my troublesome companions for life has confined
me to my room, but abstinence has (I believe) got
the better of that too, and to-morrow I go abroad
again. I sent to your brother, before I left London,
the maps you wanted, the Decouvertes des Eusses, Voyage
de Gmelin en Siberie, Mr. Clerke of Chichester on the
Saxon coins, Lee's Linncean Dictionary, Verrall's Cookery,
and something else that I have forgot ; as to Hudson's
Flora Anglica it is not to be had, being out of print ;
a new and more correct edition is soon expected.
Willoughby's book of fishes was never published in
English, so would not answer your end. That of
birds is indeed in English, but not to be had in the
shops and sells at auctions from 30 to 40 shillings,
so I did not buy it without farther orders. I hope
this cargo is safe arrived ; and another little one, that
I sent to Miss Wharton and Miss Peggy, directed to
the former, to be left at Mr. Tho. Wilkinson's, in

292 LETTERS.

Durham : this went by the Newcastle waggon about
6th of December, and contained twelve flower roots,
viz. 3 Soleil d'or Narcissus. 2 White Italian ditto.
(N.B. — Of the double white and yellow Italian there
are none to be had this year.) 2 Pileus Cardinalis,
red. 1 Kroonvogel. 1 Degeraad, double white. 1
Bella Grisdelin. 1 Hermaphrodite. And 1 incom
parable, double blue; Hyacinths. For these you must
get glasses from Newcastle. In the same box was a
pocket lens, which Miss Wharton (if she pleased)
was to give to Aunt Middleton, who wanted such a
thing.

I desire to know, what you thought of Mason's
plans for your ground (which makes so pretty a
figure on paper) ; and whether Summers came to Old
Park to advise about planting. He is a very intelli
gent modest young man, and might be of great use
there. Has Miss Wharton served her time yet as a
bride maid 1 I hope it may prove a good omen to her !
Does Miss Peggy rival Claude Lorraine yet, and when
does she go to York ? Do Debo and Betty tend their
chrysalises, and their samplers 1 Is Kee's mouth as
pretty as ever 1 Does Robin read like a doctor, dance
like a fairy, and bow like a courtier1? Does Dicky
kick up his heels, and study geography 1 Please to
answer me as to all these particulars. My thermo
meter presents her compliments to her country sister,
and proposes now to open a correspondence with her.
She lives against a pale in the garden with her back
to the East at 9 o'clock in the morning precisely : at

LETTERS. 293

any other hour she is not visible, unless upon some
great occasion. I was in London from 3d November
to 14th December, during which time the weather
was commonly open, damp and mild, with the wind
in the West, veering either to North or South. On
the last mentioned day I found some Brambles and
Fever-few yet flowering in the hedges, and in gardens
the double Chrysanthemum, double Chamomile, Bor
age, Stocks, and single Wall-flowers. These were all
cut off" on the 24th by an East wind and hard frost,
Thermometer at 31. Next day and to-day it was at
30. On the 26th a little snow fell, which still lies
and freezes.

Our ministry has taken in some odd coadjutors not
much to its credit or strength. It appeared from the
first day that the Parliament met, that the opposition
were all to pieces among themselves, and soon after
the Duke of Bedford civilly declared to Mr. Grenville,
that he had the highest opinion of his abilities, but
as it was contrary to his principles to keep up a con
stant opposition to the King's measures, he must not
wonder, if his friends should drop the plan they had
for some time been pursuing. Accordingly he made
his terms, four or five of them were directly to be
provided for : the rest were to wait till there was
room. Lord Shelburne (the Secretary), and Mr. Cook
(Joint Paymaster) were to have gone out, but Lord
Chatham insisted on their staying in (it is said) and
prevailed; Mr. Conway retires, and is to have the
army, when Lord Ligonier dies ; this is voluntary, I

294 LETTERS.

imagine. Lord Northington goes off with his pension.
Lord Weymouth, and Earl Gower supply their places.
Mr. Thynne is Master of the Household. Lord Sand
wich, Joint Postmaster (Lord Hillsborough being
created Secretary of State for America.) Kigby is the
other, that must come in (to what place I know not)
and conduct, I suppose, the House of Commons. How
much better and nobler would it have been to have
left all those beggars in the lurch! Indeed what
could be said against it, as all that could oppose
the ministry were already broke into three parts,
and one of them had declared publicly against the
other two ? I conclude the Eockingham party will at
last prevail, as they have some character and credit
with the people still left.

Adieu ! my dear Sir, you have had, I hope, no
returns of your asthma, since you lay in your own
bed. My best respects to Mrs. Wharton, and love
to all the family. I am ever yours, T. G.

Pembroke College, December 28, 1767.

Shall I write out, and send you, what Leland
says of your neighbourhood? It is nothing but
short notes taken in his journey : but that journey
was towards the end of Henry Eighth's reign just
after the dissolution of monasteries, which makes it
valuable.

SPECIMEN.

From St. Andre's Akeland to Raby Castle 5 miles,
part by arable, but more by pastures, and moorisch

LETTERS. 295

hilly ground, barren of wood. K,aby is the largest
castel of Logginges in al the north cuntery, and is
of a strong building: but not set ether on hil, or
very strong ground. As I entered by a causey into
it there was a litle stagne on the right hand, and in
the first area were but two towres, one at eche end,
as entres, and no other builded. Yn the second area,
as an entring, was a great gate of iren with a tour,
and 2 or 3 mo on the right hand, then were al the
chief toures of the third court, as in the hart of the
castel. The haul, and al the houses of offices be large
and stately ; and in the haul I saw an incredible great
beame of an hart. The great chaumber was exceed
ing large, but now it is false -rofid, and devided into
2 or 3 partes. I saw ther a little chaumber, wherein
was in windows of colored glass al the petigre of
ye Nevilles, etc.

CXX. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke College, January 8, 1768.

DEAR MASON — I did not write to you — that's to be
sure ; but then, consider, I had the gout great part of
the time that I passed in town, and ever since I came
hither I have been confined to my room ; and besides,
you know, you were at Aston, and did not much
care. As to Monsieur de la Harpe,1 he is not to be

1 The well-known writer, Jean Frangois de la Harpe, born
1739, died 1803. Up to the period of Gray's Letter, 1768, he
had distinguished himself chiefly as a dramatic writer, the author

296 LETTERS.

had at any of the shops, and, they say, never was
in England. What I saw and liked of his must
have been in some bibliotheque or journal that I had
borrowed.

Here are, or have been, or will be, all your old
and new friends in constant expectation of you at
Cambridge ; yet Christmas is past, and no Scroddles
appears.

Weddell attends your call, and Palgrave proud,

, and Delaval the loud.

For thee does Powell squeeze, and Harriot1 sputter,
And Glyn2 cut phizzes, and Tom Neville stutter.
Brown sees thee sitting on his nose's tip,
The Widow feels thee in her aching hip,
For thee fat Nanny sighs, and handy Nelly,
And Balguy3 with a bishop in his belly.

It is true of the two archdeacons. The latter is
now here, but goes on Monday. The former comes
to take his degree in February. The rector writes
to ask whether you are come, that he may do the

of Tragedie de Warwick, Timoleon, Pharamond, Gustavus
Vasa, etc., in 1776. His Literary Correspondence with the
Emperor Paul was printed in 1801, in four volumes, and
perhaps is the most interesting of his works at the present day.
— [Mit.]

1 Sir James Harriot, Knt., Haster of Trinity Hall, 1764. He
continued Haster for nearly forty years, and was succeeded by
Sir William Wynne, Knt.— [M*.]

2 Dr. Glynn was Gray's physician at Cambridge, and also a
very intimate friend. He was "The lov'd lapis on the banks
of Cam."— [Mit.]

3 It is well known that Dr. Balguy refused a BisJwprick.
[Mit.]

LETTERS. 297

same. As to Johnny, here he is, divided between
the thoughts of ... and marriage. Delaval only
waits for a little entreaty. The master, the doctor,
the poet, and the president, are very pressing and
warm, but none so warm as the coffee-house and I.
Come then away. This is no season for planting, and
Lord Kichard1 will grow as well without your culti
vation as with it ; at least let us know what we are
to hope for, and when, if it be only for the satisfac
tion of the methodist singing-man your landlord.

You will finish your opus magnum here so clever,
and your series of historical tragedies, with your
books (that nobody reads) all round you; and your
critic at hand, who never cares a farthing, that I
must say for him, whether you follow his opinions or
not ; and your hypercritics, that nobody, not even
themselves, understands, though you think you do.
I am sorry to tell you Saint John's Garden is quite
at a stand ; perhaps you in person may set it going.
If not, here is Mr. Brown's little garden cries aloud
to be laid out (it is in a wretched state, to be sure,
and without any taste). You shall have unlimited
authority over it, and I will take upon me the whole
expense. Will you not come? I know you will.
Adieu, I am ever yours, T. G-.

1 Lord Kichard Cavendish (1751-1781).

298 LETTERS.

CXXL— TO WILLIAM TAYLOR HOWE.

Cambridge, Pembroke College,
January 12, 1768.

SIR — You perceive by Mr. Brown's letter, that I
passed all the summer in the North of England, went
from thence to London, and did not arrive here till
the middle of December, where I found your parcel.
Since that time I have been generally confined to my
room, and besides I was willing to go through the
eight volumes,1 before I returned you an answer.
This must be my excuse to you, for only doing now,
what in mere civility I ought to have done long ago.
First I must condole with you, that so neat an edition
should swarm in almost every page with errors of
the press, not only in notes and citations from Greek,
French, and English authors, but in the Italian text
itself, greatly to the disreputation of the Leghorn
publishers. This is the only reason (I think), that
could make an edition in England necessary. But I
doubt you would not find the matter much mended
here ; our presses, as they improve in beauty, de
clining daily in accuracy ; besides you would find the
expense very considerable, and the sale in no propor
tion to it, as in reality, it is but few people in England,
that read currently and with pleasure the Italian
tongue ; and the fine old editions of their capital
writers are sold in London for a lower price, than
they bear in Italy. An English translation I can by
1 Of Count Algarotti's works.

LETTERS. 299

no means advise. The justness of thought and good
sense might remain ; but the graces of elocution
(which make a great part of Algarotti's merit) would
be entirely lost, and that merely from the very differ
ent genius and complexion of the two languages.

I rather think these volumes should be handsomely
bound, before they are put into the library : they bind
very neatly here ; and if you approve it, Mr. Brown
will order it to be done. Doubtless there can be no
impropriety in making the same present to the Uni
versity, nor need you at all to fear for the reputation
of your friend : he has merit enough to recommend
him in any country, a tincture of various sorts of
knowledge; an acquaintance with all the beautiful
arts; an easy command, a precision, warmth, and
richness of expression, and a judgment, that is rarely
mistaken, on any subject to which he applies it. Of
the dialogues I have formerly told you my thoughts.
The essays and letters (many of them entirely new
to me) on the arts, are curious and entertaining ; those
on other subjects (even where the thoughts are not
new to me, but borrowed from his various reading
and conversation) often better put, and better ex
pressed than in the originals. I rejoice, when I see
Machiavel defended or illustrated, who to me appears
one of the wisest men that any nation in any age has
produced. Most of the other discourses military or
political are well worth reading, though that on
Kouli-Khan was a mere jeu-d'esprit, a sort of his
torical exercise. The letters from Eussia I have read

300 LETTERS.

before with pleasure, particularly the narrative of
Munich's and Lascy's campaigns. The detached
thoughts are often new and just; but there should
have been a revisal of them, as they are often to be
found in his letters repeated in the very same words.
Some too of the familiar letters might have been
spared. The Congress of Cythera I had seen, and
liked before, the Giudicio d'Amore is an addition
rather inferior to it. The verses are not equal to the
prose, but they are above mediocrity.

I shall be glad to hear your health is improved,
and that you have thoughts of favouring us with your
company here. I am, Sir, your most obedient humble
servant, THOS. GRAY.

CXXII. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Pembroke College, January 17, 1768.

DEAR SIR — I was much surprised to receive a letter
superscribed in your hand from London, and am very
sorry to see, what occasioned it. I fear the event the
more, because in his best health Mr. Wharton had
always some complaint in his breast, and now the
distemper has fallen upon the weak part.

Whenever you are able to disengage yourself, Mr.
Brown and I shall flatter ourselves with the hopes of
seeing you at Cambridge for as long a time as you
can afford to bestow on us. It is likely you may find
Mason too with us, for he talks of setting out about

LETTERS. 301

the 20th to come hither. I am ever very sincerely
yours, T. G.

CXXIII. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke College, January 28, 1768.
DEAR SIR — I and mine are safe and well, but the
chambers opposite to me (Mr. Lyon's), which were
getting ready for Mason, are destroyed. Mr. Brown
was in more immediate danger than I, but he too is
well, and has lost nothing. We owe it to Methodism,
that any part (at least of that wing) was preserved ;
for two saints, who had been till very late at their
nocturnal devotions, and were just in bed, gave the
first alarm to the college and the town. We had very
speedy and excellent assistance of engines and men,
and are quit for the fright except the damage above-
mentioned. I assure you it is not amusing to be
waked between two and three in the morning, and
to hear, " Don't be frighted, sir, but the college is all
of afire!"

I have not yet returned the letters you sent me
by the fly, not thinking it necessary to do so im
mediately ; but very soon you shall have them.
Mason came two days after the fire, and will stay some
time. Adieu ! — I am sincerely yours, T. G.

I do not see what you can do, everything depends
on their first meeting at Mamhead ; and that is now
over. I am afraid everything will go wrong, it is
sure your last letter could do no hurt.

302 LETTERS.

CXXIV. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke College,
Wednesday, February 3, 1768.

DEAR SIR — I intend to return you the letters by to
morrow's fly, if nothing hinders. I am never the
wiser, nor the more able to account for Temple's letter
to Lady Lisburne (which gave occasion to all the
rest), it still looks like the suggestion of his wife
working upon his own natural irritability, and the
sort of request made in it for the Berwick living (at so
improper a time), is not any other way to be accounted
for. The sensible and manly answer to it (I must own)
I cannot easily digest, especially the end of it : it is
plain, as he wrote on, he worked his temper into a
ferment, till at last it absolutely turned sour. I can
not help his temper ; but his heart may (for all that)
be right. In the second letter, he is conscious he had
gone too far in his expressions, and tries to give them
a sense they will not bear ; but I allow he is through
out too angry and too contemptuous. Your last
letter to him (though I never saw it) I conclude has
done no hurt, perhaps has softened him a little.
Everything depends upon the manner of their meeting
in Devonshire, which by this time you probably know.
I do not yet see why all this passion, why all this
trouble of justifying himself to a man, for whom he
never had any kindness or regard, and who can be of
little use to him in point of interest. Temple is too
precipitate, too rough too in his expressions, too much

LETTERS. 303

the aggressor, if he thinks Lord Lisburne really his
friend ; and, if he does not, how in the midst of his
resentment can he bring himself to shew a desire of
accepting farther favours from him 1 I yet have some
little hope that all may come right again, at least right
enough for our purpose ; for I am more convinced of
Temple's contempt and want of esteem for Lisburne,
than I am of Lisburne's aversion, or neglect of Temple.
Mason is here with us, and will stay (I should
hope) some time; he is even going to hire a small
house opposite to Peter House, which he cannot
inhabit till next winter. Mr. Hutton being dead, he
has now a landed estate, the income of which in a
few years will be considerable. Old Smith of Trinity
is dead, and Dr. HinchlifFe will probably succeed him,
though Dr. Eoss and Brocket are also competitors for
it. Are your India-paper, your Axminster carpets,
your sofas and peches-mortels in great forwardness1?
Have you read Mr. Anstey, and the Historical Doubts?
Adieu ! — I am sincerely yours, T. G.

CXXV. — TO HORACE WALPOLE.

Pembroke College, February 14, 1768.
I RECEIVED the book * you were so good to send me,
and have read it again (indeed I could hardly be said
to have read it before) with attention and with plea
sure. Your second edition is so rapid in its progress,
that it will now hardly answer any purpose to tell
1 Walpole's Historic Doubts.

304 LETTERS.

you either my own objections, or those of other
people. Certain it is, that you are universally read
here ; but what we think is not so easy to come at.
We stay as usual to see the success, to learn the
judgment of the town, to be directed in our opinions
by those of more competent judges. If they like you,
we shall ; if any one of name write against you, we
give you up ; for we are modest and diffident of our
selves, and not without reason. History in particular
is not our forte; for (the truth is) we read only
modern books and pamphlets of the day. I have
heard it objected, that you raise doubts and difficulties,
and do not satisfy them by telling us what is really
the case. I have heard you charged with disrespect
to the King of Prussia; and above all to King William,
and the Revolution. These are seriously the most
sensible things I have heard said, and all that I
recollect. If you please to justify yourself, you may.

My own objections are little more essential : they
relate chiefly to inaccuracies of style, which either
debase the expression or obscure the meaning. I
could point out several small particulars of this kind,
and will do so, if you think it can serve any purpose
after publication. When I hear you read, they often
escape me, partly because I am attending to the sub
ject, and partly because from habit I understand you
where a stranger might often be at a loss.

As to your arguments, most of the principal parts
are made out with a clearness and evidence that no
one would expect, where materials are so scarce. Yet

LETTERS. 305

I still suspect Richard of the murder of Henry VI.
The chronicler of Croyland charges it full on him,
though without a name or any mention of circum
stances. The interests of Edward were the interests
of Richard too, though the throne were not then in
view ; and that Henry still stood in their way, they
might well imagine, because, though deposed and
imprisoned once before, he had regained his liberty
and his crown ; and was still adored by the people.
I should think, from the word tyranni, the passage
was written after Richard had assumed the crown :
but, if it was earlier, does not the bare imputation
imply very early suspicions, at least of Richard's
bloody nature, especially in the mouth of a person
that was no enemy to the House of York, nor friend
to that of Beaufort1?

That the Duchess of Burgundy, to try the temper
of the nation, should set up a false Pretender to the
Throne (when she had the true Duke of York in her
hands), and that the queen-mother (knowing her son
was alive) should countenance that design, is a piece
of policy utterly incomprehensible; being the most
likely means to ruin their own scheme, and throw a
just suspicion of fraud and falsehood on the cause of
truth, which Henry could not fail to seize and turn to
his advantage. Mr. Hume's first query, as far as
relates to the queen -mother, will still have some
weight. Is it probable she should give her eldest
daughter to Henry, and invite him to claim the crown,
unless she had been sure that her sons were then

VOL. III. X

306 LETTERS.

dead ? As to her seeming consent to the match be
tween Elizabeth and Richard, she and her daughters
were in his power, which appeared now well fixed ;
his enemies' designs within the kingdom being every
where defeated, and Henry unable to raise any con
siderable force abroad. She was timorous and hope
less ; or she might dissemble, in order to cover her
secret dealings with Richmond : and if this were the
case, she hazarded little, supposing Richard to dissemble
too, and never to have thought seriously of marrying
his niece.

Another unaccountable thing is, that Richard, a
prince of the House of York, undoubtedly brave, clear
sighted, artful, attentive to business ; of boundless
generosity, as appears from his grants ; just and
merciful, as his laws and his pardons seem to testify ;
having subdued the Queen and her hated faction, and
been called first to the protectorship and then to the
crown by the nobility and by the parliament ; with
the common people to friend (as Carte often asserts),
and having nothing against him but the illegitimate
family of his brother Edward, and the attainted House
of Clarence (both of them within his power) ; — that
such a man should see within a few months Bucking
ham, his best friend, and almost all the southern and
western counties in one day in arms against him;
that having seen all these insurrections come to
nothing, he should march with a gallant army against
a handful of needy adventurers, led by a fugitive, who
had not the shadow of a title, nor any virtues to

LETTERS. 307

recommend him, nor any foreign strength to depend
on ; that he should be betrayed by almost all his
troops, and fall a sacrifice ; — all this is to me utterly
improbable, and I do not ever expect to see it
accounted for.

I take this opportunity to tell you, that Algarotti
(as I see in the new edition of his works printed at
Leghorn) being employed to buy pictures for the
King of Poland, purchased among others the famous
Holbein that was at Venice. It don't appear that he
knew anything of your book : yet he calls it the consul
Meyer and his family, as if it were then known to be
so in that city. A young man here, who is a diligent
reader of books, an antiquary, and a painter, informs
me, that at the Red Lion Inn at Newmarket is a piece
of tapestry containing the very design of your marriage
of Henry the Sixth, only with several more figures in
it, both men and women ; that he would have bought
it of the people, but they refused to part with it. Mr.
Mason, who is here, desires to present his best respects
to you. He says, that to efface from our annals the
history of any tyrant, is to do an essential injury
to mankind : but he forgives it, because you have
shewn Henry the Seventh to be a greater devil than
Richard.

Pray do not be out of humour. When you first
commenced an author, you exposed yourself to pit,
boxes, and gallery. Any coxcomb in the world may
come in and hiss if he pleases; ay, and (what is
almost as bad) clap too, and you cannot hinder him.

308 LETTERS.

I saw a little squib fired at you in a newspaper by
some of the House of Yorke, for speaking lightly of
chancellors. Adieu ! I am ever yours,

T. GRAY.

CXXVI. — TO HORACE WALPOLE.

Pembroke College, February 25, 1768.
To your friendly accusation I am glad I can plead
not guilty with a safe conscience. Dodsley told me
in the Spring that the plates from Mr. Bentley's
designs were worn out, and he wanted to have them
copied and reduced to a smaller scale for a new edition.
I dissuaded him from so silly an expense, and desired
he would put in no ornaments at all. The Long Story
was to be totally omitted, as its only use (that of
explaining the prints) was gone : but to supply the
place of it in bulk, lest my works should be mistaken
for the works of a flea, or a pismire, I promised to
send him an equal weight of poetry or prose : so, since
my return hither, I put up about two ounces of stuff,
viz. the "Fatal Sisters," the "Descent of Odin" (of both
which you have copies), a bit of something from the
Welch, and certain little Notes, partly from justice
(to acknowledge the debt where I had borrowed any
thing) partly from ill temper, just to tell the gentle
reader that Edward I. was not Oliver Cromwell, nor
Queen Elizabeth the Witch of Endor. This is literally
all ; and with all this, I shall be but a shrimp of an
author. I gave leave also to print the same thing at

LETTERS. 309

Glasgow;1 but I doubt my packet has miscarried, for
I hear nothing of its arrival as yet. To what you
say to me so civilly, that I ought to write more, I
reply in your own words (like the Pamphleteer, who
is going to confute you out of your own mouth) What
has one to do when turned of fifty, but really to think
of finishing? However, I will be candid (for you
seem to be so with me), and avow to you, that till
fourscore-and-ten, whenever the humour takes me, I
will write, because I like it ; and because I like myself
better when I do so. If I do not write much, it is
because I cannot. As you have not this last plea, I
see no reason why you should not continue as long
as it is agreeable to yourself, and to all such as have
any curiosity or judgment in the subject you choose
to treat. By the way let me tell you (while it is
fresh) that Lord Sandwich, who was lately dining
at Cambridge, speaking (as I am told) handsomely of
your book, said, it was pity you did not know that
his cousin Manchester had a genealogy of the Kings,
which came down no lower than to Eichard III., and
at the end of it were two portraits of Eichard and his
Son, in which that King appeared to be a handsome
man. I tell you it as I heard it ; perhaps you may
think it worth inquiring into.

I have looked into Speed and Leslie. It appears

very odd that Speed in the speech he makes for

P. Warbeck, addressed to James IV. of Scotland,

should three times cite the manuscript proclamation of

1 To Foulis, the Glasgow publisher. — [Ed.]

310 LETTEKS.

Perkin, then in the hands of Sir Eobert Cotton ; and
yet when he gives us the proclamation afterwards
(on occasion of the insurrection in Cornwall) he does
not cite any such manuscript. In Casley's Catalogue
of the Cotton Library you may see whether this manu
script proclamation still exists or not : if it does, it
may be found at the Museum. Leslie will give you
no satisfaction at all : though no subject of England,
he could not write freely on this matter, as the title
of Mary (his mistress) to the crown of England was
derived from that of Henry VII. Accordingly he
everywhere treats Perkin as an impostor ; yet drops
several little expressions inconsistent with that sup
position. He has preserved no proclamation : he only
puts a short speech into Perkin's mouth, the substance
of which is taken by Speed, and translated in the end
of his, which is a good deal longer : the whole matter
is treated by Leslie very concisely and superficially.
I can easily transcribe it, if you please ; but I do not
see that it could answer any purpose.

Mr. Boswell's book * I was going to recommend to
you, when I received your letter : it has pleased
and moved me strangely, all (I mean) that relates
to Paoli. He is a man born two thousand years
after his time ! The pamphlet proves what I have
always maintained, that any fool may write a most
valuable book by chance, if he will only tell us what

1 Evidently James Boswell's An Account of Corsica, the
Journal of a Tour to that Island, and a Memoir of P. Paoli,
published in 1768.— [Ed.]

LETTERS. 311

he heard and saw with veracity. Of Mr. Bos well's
truth I have not the least suspicion, because I am
sure he could invent nothing of this kind. The true
title of this part of his work is, a Dialogue between
a Green-Goose and a Hero.

I had been told of a manuscript in Benet Library :
the inscription of it is "Itinerarium Fratris Simeonis
et Hugonis Illuminatoris, 1322." Would not one
think this should promise something 3 They were
two Franciscan friars that came from Ireland, and
passed through Wales to London, to Canterbury, to
Dover, and so to France in their way to Jerusalem.
All that relates to our own country has been tran
scribed for me, and (sorry am I to say) signifies not
a halfpenny : only this little bit might be inserted in
your next edition of the Painters: Ad aliud caput
civitatis (Londoniae) est monasterium nigrorum mona-
chorum nomine Westmonasterium, in quo constanter et
communiter omnes reges Anglise sepeliuntur — et eidem
monasterio quasi immediate conjungitur illud famos-
issimum palatium regis, in quo est ilia vulgata camera,
in cujus parietibus sunt omnes historic bellicse totius
Biblise ineffabiliter depictse, atque in Gallico comple-
tissime et perfectissime conscriptse, in non modica in-
tuentium admiratione et maxim& regali magnificentia.

I have had certain observations on your Royal
and Noble Authors given me to send you perhaps
about three years ago : last week I found them in a
drawer, and (my conscience being troubled) now en
close them to you. I have even forgot whose they are.

312 LETTERS.

I have been also told of a passage in Ph. de
Comines, which (if you know) ought not to have been
passed over. The Book is not at hand at present,
and I must conclude my letter. Adieu ! — I am ever
yours, T. GRAY.

CXXV1L— TO HORACE WALPOLE.

Pembroke HaU, March 6, 1768.

HERE is Sir William Cornwallis, entitled Essayes of
certaine Paradoxes. 2d Edit. 1617. Lond.

King Richard III.
The French Pockes.

Nothing. .

n j x i. • j t^. > Praised.

Good to be in debt.

Sadnesse.

Julian the Apostate's virtues.

The title-page will probably suffice you; but if
you would know any more of him, he has read nothing
but the common chronicles, and those without atten
tion ; for example, speaking of Anne the queen, he
says, she was barren, of which Richard had often
complained to Rotheram. He extenuates the murder
of Henry VI. and his son : the first, he says, might
be a malicious insinuation, for that many did suppose
he died of mere melancholy and grief : the latter can
not be proved to be the action of Richard (though
executed in his presence) ; and if it were, he did it
out of love to his brother Edward. He justifies the

LETTERS. 313

death of the Lords at Pomfret, from reasons of state,
for his own preservation, the safety of the common
wealth, and the ancient nobility. The execution of
Hastings he excuses from necessity, from the dis
honesty and sensuality of the man : what was his
crime with respect to Richard, he does not say. Dr.
Shaw's Sermon was not by the King's command, but
to be imputed to the preacher's own ambition : but
if it was by order, to charge his mother with adultery was
a matter of no such great moment, since it is no wonder in
that 'sex. Of the murder in the Tower he doubts :
but if it were by his order, the offence was to God,
not to his people ; and how could he demonstrate his love
more amply, tlian to venture his soul for their quiet?
Have you enough, pray 1 you see it is an idle
declamation, the exercise of a school -boy that is
to be bred a statesman.

I have looked in Stowe; to be sure there is no
proclamation there. Mr. Hume, I suppose, means
Speed, where it is given, how truly I know not ; but
that he had seen the original is sure, and seems to
quote the very words of it in the beginning of that
speech which Perkin makes to James IV. and also
just afterwards, where he treats of the Cornish re
bellion. Gruthrie,1 you see, has vented himself in
the Critical Review. His History I never saw, nor
is it here, nor do I know any one that ever saw it.
He is a rascal, but rascals may chance to meet with

1 This must be William Guthrie of Brechin (1708-1770), who
had published A General History of Scotland in 1767.— [Ed.]

314 LETTERS.

curious records ; and that commission to Sir I. Tyrrell
(if it be not a lie) is such ; so is the order for Henry
the Sixth's funeral. I would by no means take notice
of him, write what he would. I am glad you have
seen the Manchester Eoll.

It is not I that talk of Phil, de Comines. It was
mentioned to me as a thing that looked like a volun
tary omission, but I see you have taken notice of it,
in the note to p. 71, though rather too slightly. You
have not observed that the same writer says, c. 55,
Richard tua de sa main oufit tuer en sa presence, quelque
lieu apart, ce bon homme le Hoi Henry. Another over
sight I think there is at p. 43, where you speak of the
Eoll of Parliament, and the contract with Lady Eleanor
Botelar, as things newly come to light. Whereas
Speed has given at large the same Koll in his Histoi-y.
Adieu ! — I am ever yours, T. GRAY.

CXXVIII. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Pembroke College, March 15, 1768.

DEAR SIR — I am so totally uninformed, indeed so
helpless, in matters of law, that there is no one
perhaps in the kingdom you could apply to for
advice with less effect than to me, This ought to
be a sufficient warning to you not to pay more atten
tion to me than I deserve. You may too take into
the account my natural indolence and indisposition
to act, and a want of alacrity in indulging any distant
hopes, however flattering ; as you have (I think) from

LETTERS. 315

nature the contrary fault, a medium between us would
be possibly the best rule of action.

One thing I am persuaded I see clearly, and would
advise strongly : it is, that you should never think of
separating your cause from that of your nephew. Your
rights are exactly the same, you must share the profit
and the loss. He is a minor, and under your care :
to set up any distinct claim for the private advantage
of yourself and family, would surely hurt you in the
eye of the world. The slightest apprehension of any
such thought will make a total breach between Mr.
L. and you, whose advice and activity seem of such
singular use in all your designs. This will force you
to pass your whole time at London without other
assistance, than what you must hire; and perhaps
produce another lawsuit between you and your own
nephew. But you speak irresolutely yourself on this
head, and as you have had a little time to think, since
you wrote your letter, I doubt not, you have already
dropped any such idea. It remains then to communi
cate immediately to Mr. LI. the opinions of De Grey,
and to advise with him (without reserve) about this
application to the Treasury.

Now I am going to talk of what I do not under
stand : but from what I have lately heard of the D.
of Portland and Sir J. Lowther's case (which is in
some respects similar), if you obtain this grant (for
which you must pay too a certain rent to the Crown ;
and if any one outbids you, they will be preferred)
your right to it is never the more established, pro-

316 LETTERS.

vided anybody start up to contest it with you at law,
for the courts are still open to redress any injury,
that a person pleads he has received by such grant.
In this, therefore, I should be guided by Mr. LI. and
Mr. Madocks. The application to the Treasury is
easy, I believe; Stonehewer, or Mr. Walpole will
probably acquaint you of the manner; but I could
give you good reasons, why the former should not be
asked to interpose personally in obtaining it, at least
why it would be uneasy to him to do so.

There remains then the foundation of all this, the
legal right, you and your nephew have to this exten
sion of the tythes, about which your counsel them
selves seem dubious enough ; and you cannot expect
me to be clearer than they, especially as there are
two things not at all explained in your letter, viz. :
What is that grant to Morrice and Cole, and when
made? and who is Rector of the Church, or (if a
vicar) who presents him, for it appears not to be
you? All that you seem to me clearly entitled to,
is a right of continuing the suit, which your Brother
begun, which contest may beget others to infinity.
Shall I tell (but without consequence) what I should
wish ? that you would sell these Tythes out of Hand,
and with them all your expectations, and all your
Law -suits. If these are worth anything, purchasers
may be found sanguine enough to give such a price,
as Mr. Jonathan did, and you will be no loser; if
they are not, you may lose a little money, and in my
opinion be a great gainer: for this inundation of

LETTERS. 317

business, of eager hopes, and perhaps more reasonable
fears, is the thing in the world the most contrary to
your peace, and that of your family. But I determine
nothing, we shall hear what the three referees say,
and what Mr. LI. determines upon it.

I have made haste to answer you, considering the
difficulty of the case ; you will therefore excuse me
for my intention's sake. Mason is arrived in London,
and lives for the present at Stonehewer's, in Queen
Street. I rejoiced to hear, you got so well over that
monster the Trent. Make my best compliments to
Mrs. Wharton, and your family. I am sorry to hear
Miss Wharton has been ill. Mr. Brown presents his
respects to you, all down to Dicky. Adieu! I am
ever yours, T. GRAY.

Our weather has been mild and fine enough of
late. The next letter I will give an account of it.
Wilkes (they say) will be chose for the city of
London. T. Lyon has lost one of his causes in the
House of Lords against Lord Panmure.

CXXIX. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Southampton Row, Sunday, May 29 [1768].
ADDIO ! You will have the satisfaction of going to
Fischer's concert, and hearing Gugnani without me,
on Thursday ; I don't believe there will be anybody
one knows there. My respects to Mrs. Nicholls, and
my cousin, Miss Floyer, not forgetting the red nightin
gale. I am gone to-morrow.

318 LETTERS.

Here are a pair of your stray shoes, dancing at
tendance, till you send for them.

CXXX. — TO THE DUKE OF GRAFTON.1

Cambridge, July 1768.

MY LORD — Your Grace has dealt nobly with me;
and the same delicacy of mind that induced you to
confer this favour on me, unsolicited and unexpected,
may perhaps make you averse to receive my sincerest
thanks and grateful acknowledgements. Yet your
Grace must excuse me, they will have their way :
they are indeed but words ; yet I know and feel they
come from my heart, and therefore are not wholly
unworthy of your Grace's acceptance. I even flatter
myself (such is my pride) that you have some little
satisfaction in your own work. If I did not deceive
myself in this, it would complete the happiness of, my
Lord, your Grace's most obliged and devoted servant.

CXXXI. — TO MARY ANTROBUS.

July 29, 1768.

DEAR MARY — I thank you for all your intelligence
(and the first news I had of poor Brocket's death was
from you) and to reward you in part for it, I now
shall tell you, that this day, hot as it is, I kissed the
King's hand ; that my warrant was signed by him
last night ; that on Wednesday I received a very
honourable letter from the D. of Grafton, acquainting

1 Augustus Henry, Duke of Grafton, died March 1, 1811,
aged 75.

LETTERS. 319

me that his majesty had ordered him to offer me this
Professorship, and much more, which does me too
much credit by half for me to mention it. The Duke
adds, that from private as well as public considerations, he
takes the warmest part in approving this measure of the
King's. These are his own words. You see there are
princes (or ministers) left in the world, that know
how to do things handsomely ; for I profess I never
asked for it, nor have I seen his Grace before or after
this event.

Dr. E. (not forgetting a certain lady of his) is so
good to you, and to me, that you may (if you please)
shew him my letter. He will not be critical as to the
style, and I wish you would send it also to Mr. Brown,
for I have not time to write to him by this day's post ;
they need not mention this circumstance to others,
they may learn it as they can. Adieu !

I receive your letter of July 28 (while I am writing),
consult your friends over the way, they are as good
as I, and better. All I can say is, the Board have
been so often used to the name of Antrobus lately,1
that I fear they may take your petition not in good
part. If you are sure of the kindness or interest
of Mr. A. the opportunity should not be lost ; but I
always a little distrust new friends and new lawyers.

I have found a man, who has brought Mr. Eyres
(I think) up to my price, in a hurry; however he
defers his final answer till Wednesday next. He shall

1 By Gray's exertions this Mary Antrobus, who was his
cousin, had been appointed postmistress at Cambridge. — [Ed.]

320 LETTERS.

not have it a shilling lower, I promise; and if he
hesitates, I will rise upon him like a fury. Good
night. — I am ever yours.

How could you dream that Stfonehewer], or
Hinchlpffe] would ask this for themselves ? The only
people that ask'd it were Lort, Marriott, Delaval,
Jebb, and Peck — , at least I have heard of no more.
Delaval always communicated his thoughts to me,
knowing I would make no ill use of that knowledge.
Lort is a worthy man, and I wish he could have it,
or something as good : the rest are nothing.

CXXXII. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Jermyn Street (at Mr. Roberta's),
August 1, 1768.

DEAR DOCTOR — I have been remiss in answering
your last letter, which was sent me to Eamsgate,
from Cambridge : for I have passed a good part of
the summer in different parts of Kent much to my
satisfaction. Could I have advised anything essential
in poor Mrs. Ettrick's case, I had certainly replied
immediately : but we seem of one mind in it. There
was nothing left but to appeal to delegates (let the
trouble and expense be what they will almost) and to
punish, if it be practicable, that old villain, who upon
the bench of justice dared to set at nought all common
sense and all humanity.

I write to you now chiefly to tell you, and I think
you will be pleased (nay I expect the whole family

LETTEES. 321

will be pleased with it), that on Sunday se'nnight,
Brocket died by a fall from his horse, being (as I
hear) drunk, and some say, returning from Hinchin-
broke. That on the Wednesday following, I received
a letter from the D. of Grafton, saying, he had the
king's commands to offer me the vacant Professorship,
that, etc. (but I shall not write all he says) and he
adds at the end, that from private as well as public con
siderations. Tie must take the warmest part in approving so
well judged a measure as he hopes I do not doubt of the
real regard and esteem with which he has the honor to be,
etc., there's for you. So on Thursday the king signed
the warrant, and next day at his levee I kissed his
hand. He made me several gracious speeches, which
I shall not report, because everybody, who goes to
Court, does so. By the way I desire, you would say,
that all the Cabinet Council in words of great favour
approved the nomination of your humble servant, and
this I am bid to say, and was told to leave my name
at their several doors. I have told you the outside
of the matter, and all the manner : for the inside you
know enough easily to guess it, and you will guess
right. As to his grace I have not seen him before or
since.

I shall continue here perhaps a fortnight longer,
perishing with heat; I have no Thermometer with
me, but I feel it as I did at Naples. Next summer
(if it be as much in my power, as it is in my wishes)
I meet you at the foot of Skiddaw. My respects to
Mrs. Wharton, and the young ladies great and small.

VOL. III. Y

322 LETTERS.

Love to Eobin and Richard. Adieu! — I am truly
yours.

At your instance I have kiss'd Mrs. Forster, and
forgot old quarrels. I went to visit the Daughter,
who has been brought to bed of a Boy, and there I
met with the Mother.

CXXXIII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

August 1 [1768].

DEAR MASON — Where you are, I know not, but
before this can reach you I guess you will be in
residence. It is only to tell you that I profess
Modern History and languages in a little shop of
mine at Cambridge, if you will recommend me any
customers. On Sunday Brocket died of a fall from
his horse, drunk, I believe, as some say, returning
from Hinchinbroke.1 On Wednesday the Duke of
Grafton wrote me a very handsome letter to say that
the King offered the vacant place to me, with many
more speeches too honourable for me to transcribe.
On Friday, at the levee, I kissed his Majesty's hand.2
What he said I will not tell you, because everybody
that has been at court tells what the King said to

1 Hinchinbroke, the seat of Lord Sandwich, in Huntingdon
shire.

2 "I believe Mr. Stonhewer, the Duke of Grafton's secretary,
and Mr. Gray's friend, was the first man in this affair. " — [Cole,
MS. Note.]

LETTEES. 323

them.1 It was very gracious, however. Remember
you are to say that the Cabinet Council all approved
of the nomination in a particular manner. It is
hinted to me that I should say this publicly, and I
have been at their several doors to thank them.
Now I have told you all the exterior ; the rest, the
most essential, you can easily guess, and how it came
about. Now are you glad or sorry, pray ? Adieu. —
Yours ever, T. G.} P. M. H. and L.2

CXXXIV. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Jermyn Street (Mr. Roberts),
August 3, 1768.

DEAR SIR — That Mr. Brockett has broke his neck,
you will have seen in the newspapers, and also that
I (your humble servant) have kissed the king's hand
for his succession, they both are true, but the manner
how you know not ; only I can assure you that I had
no hand at all in his fall, and almost as little in the
second happy event. He died on the Sunday; on
Wednesday following, his Grace of Grafton wrote me
a very polite letter to say that his majesty commanded
him to offer me the vacant professorship, not only as
a reward of, etc., but as a credit to, etc., with much
more too high for me to transcribe. You are to say

1 Sir Egerton Brydges informed me, " That when Gray went
to court to kiss the King's hand for his place, he felt a mixture
of shyness and pride which he expressed to some of his intimate
friends in terms of strong ill humour." — \MU.\

2 Thomas Gray, Professor of Modern History and Letters.

324 LETTERS.

that I owe my nomination to the whole cabinet council,
and my success to the king's particular knowledge of
me; this last he told me himself, though the day
was so hot and the ceremony so embarrassing to me,
that I hardly know what he said.

I am commissioned to make you an offer which I
have told him (not the king) you would not accept
long ago. Mr. Barrett1 (whom you know) offers to
you a hundred pounds a year, with meat, drink,
washing, chaise and lodging, if you will please to
accompany him through France into Italy; he has
taken such a fancy to you that I cannot but do what
he desires me, being pleased with him for it. I know
it will never do, though before you grew a rich fat
rector I have often wished (ay, and fished too) for
such an opportunity. No matter ! I desire you to
write your answer to him yourself as civil as you
think fit, and then let me know the result, that is
all. He lives at Lee, near Canterbury.

Adieu ! I am to perish here with heat this fort
night yet, and then to Cambridge. Dr. Marriott
(Mr. Vicecan) came post hither to ask this vacant
office on Wednesday last, and went post to carry the
news back on Saturday. The rest were Delaval,
Lort, Peck, and Jebb.2 As to Lort, he deserved it,

1 Mr. Barret of Lee Priory, Canterbury.

2 Lort was a scholar and antiquary, afterwards Chaplain
to the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rector of Fulham, and Pre
bendary of St. Paul's. He died from an overturn of his
carriage. Boswell says, "Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit."
Peck was an old fellow of Trinity College, who had the living

LETTERS. 325

and Delaval is an honest gentleman ; the rest do me
no great honour, no more than my predecessor did ;
to be sure, my dignity is a little the worse for wear,
but mended and washed it will do for me. I am
very sincerely yours, T. G.

CXXXV. — TO JAMES BEATTIE.

Pembroke Hall, October 31, 1768.

IT is some time since I received from Mr. Foulis two
copies of my poems, one by the hands of Mr. T. Pitt,
the other by Mr. Merrill, a bookseller of this town :
it is indeed a most beautiful edition, and must cer
tainly do credit both to him and to me : but I fear
it will be of no other advantage to him, as Dodsley
has contrived to glut the town already with two
editions beforehand, one of 1500, and the other of
750, both indeed far inferior to that of Glasgow, but
sold at half the price. I must repeat my thanks, Sir,
for the trouble you have been pleased to give your
self on my account ; and through you I must desire
leave to convey my acknowledgments to Mr. Foulis,

of Trompington, and whom Mr. Professor Smythe informs me
he just remembers when an undergraduate, as a queer piece
of antiquity. Jebb was the great hero of dissent, the head
of the latitudinarians of Cambridge, as they were called ; a
distinguished mathematician and author of great ability and
integrity. He gave heretical lectures at his lodgings in the
town, and afterwards left the University, and became a phy
sician and politician in London. His Works were published
by Dr. Disney in 1787.— {Mit.}

326 LETTEKS.

for the pains and expense he has been at in this
publication.

We live at so great a distance, that, perhaps, you
may not yet have learned, what, I flatter myself, you
will not be displeased to hear : the middle of last
summer his Majesty was pleased to appoint me
Regius Professor of Modern History in this Uni
versity ; it is the best thing the Crown has to bestow
(on a layman) here ; the salary is £400 per ann. but
what enhances the value of it to me is, that it was
bestowed without being asked. The person, who
held it before me, died on the Sunday; and on
Wednesday following the Duke of Grafton wrote me
a letter to say, that the King offered me this office,
with many additional expressions of kindness on his
Grace's part, to whom I am but little known, and
whom I have not seen either before or since he did
me this favour. Instances of a benefit so nobly con
ferred, I believe, are rare ; and therefore I tell you of
it as a thing that does honour, not only to me, but to
the Minister.

As I lived here before from choice, I shall now
continue to do so from obligation : if business or
curiosity should call you southwards, you will find
few friends that will see you with more cordial satis
faction, than, dear Sir, etc.

LETTERS. 327

CXXXVI. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Jermyn Street, Saturday, August 27, 1768.
DEAR SIR — I hope in God, before now, you have
given Mr. Barrett his answer. I always supposed
you would refuse, and told him so ; yet, as he does
not write to me, I much doubt whether you have
acquainted him of it : why, did not I desire you to
do so out of hand 1 and did not I make my civilities
to Mrs. Nicholls 1 'tis sure I intended both one and
the other : but you never allow for business 1 why,
I am selling an estate, and over head and ears in
writings.

Next week I come to Cambridge. Pray let me
find a letter from you there, telling me the way to
Lovingland ; for thither I come, as soon as I have
been sworn in, and subscribed, and been at Church.
Poor Mr. Spence was found drowned in his own
garden at By field,1 probably (being paralytic) he fell
into the water, and had no one near to help him.
So History has lost two of her chief supports almost
at once ; let us pray for their successors ! His Danish
Majesty has had a diarrhaea, so could not partake of
Dr. Marriott's collation; if he goes thither at all, I
would contrive not to be present at the time. Adieu !
I am yours, T. Gr.

1 On the 20th of August— [Ed.}

328 LETTERS.

CXXXVII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke College, September 7, 1768.
DEAR MASON — What can I say more to you about
Oddington?1 You seem engaged to Mr. Wood, and
in consequence of that to Mr. Meller. Mr. Brown
is not here, and if he were I could by no means
consult him about it. His view to the mastership
will be affected by it just in the same manner as if
he had accepted of Framlingham2 and had it in
possession, which I little doubt he would accept if it
were vacant and undisputed. As to the dubious title,
he told me of it himself, and I was surprised at it as
a thing quite new to me. This is all I know; nor
(if you were under no previous engagements) could I
direct or determine your choice. It ought to be
entirely your own ; as to accept or refuse ought to be
entirely his. The only reason I have suggested any
thing about it is, that (when we first talked on this
subject) you asked me whether Mr. Brown would
have it ; and I replied, it would hardly be worth his
while, as Framlingham was of greater value ; in which,
all things considered, I may be mistaken.

I give you joy of your vase ; I cannot find P. et

1 Rectory in Gloucestershire, a living in the gift of Mason,
as the Precentor of York.— [MY.]

2 Framlingham, a market town in Suffolk. The rectory is
in the gift of Pembroke College. Its castle is well known to
antiquaries, and the monument of Lord Surrey, in the church,
to poets.— [Mit.]

LETTERS. 329

P. PA. in my Sertorius Ursatus, and consequently do
not know their meaning. What shall I do? My
learned brethren are dispersed over the face of the
earth. I have lately dug up three small vases, in
workmanship at least equal to yours; they were
discovered at a place called Burslem in Stafford
shire, and are very little impaired by time. On the
larger one is this inscription very legibly, J ; and on
the two smaller thus, sf You will oblige me with
an explanation, for Ursatus here too leaves us in the
dark.

I fear the King of Denmark could not stay till
your hair was dressed. He is a genteel lively figure,
not made by nature for a fool ; but surrounded by a
pack of knaves, whose interest it is to make him one
if they can. He has overset poor Dr. Harriot's head
here, who raves of nothing else from morning till
night.

Pray make my best compliments to your brother-
residentiary Mr. Cowper, and thank him for his
obliging letter of congratulation, which I did not
at all expect. Present also my respects and acknow
ledgements to Miss Polly. Mr. Bedingfield I shall
answer soon, both as to his civilities and his re
proaches; the latter you might have prevented by
telling him that I gave my works to nobody, as it
was only a new edition. Adieu ; write to me. — I am
ever yours, T. G.

330 LETTERS.

CXXXVIII. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke College, November 8, 1768.

a single word since we parted at Norwich, and
for ought I know, you may be ignorant how I fell
into the jaws of the King of Denmark at Newmarket,
and might have staid there till this time, had I not
met with Mr. Vice-chancellor and Mr. Orator, with
their diplomas and speeches ; who, on their return to
Cambridge, sent me a chaise from thence, and de
livered me out of that den of thieves. However, I
passed a night there ; and in the next room, divided
from me by a thin partition, was a drunken parson
and his party of pleasure, singing and swearing, and
breaking all the ten commandments. All that I saw
on my way else was the abbey church at Wyndham,
to learned eyes a beautiful remnant of antiquity, part
of it in the style of Henry the First, and part in that
of Henry the Sixth ; the wooden fretwork of the
north isle you may copy, when you build the best
room of your new Gothic parsonage, it will cost but
a trifle.

So now I am going to town about my business,
which (if I dispatch to my mind) will leave me at
rest, and with a tolerably easy temper for one while.
I return hither as soon as I can, and give you notice
what a sweet humour I am in. Mrs. Nicholls and
you take advantage of it, come and take possession of
the lodge at Trinity Hall (by the way, I am com-

LETTERS. 331

missioned to offer it to you by Dr. Marriott for that
purpose, and you have nothing to do but to thank
him for his civilities, and say at what time you intend
to make use of them); and so we live in clover, and
partake the benefits of a University education together,
as of old. Palgrave is returned from Scotland, and
will perhaps be here. Mason too, if he is not married
(for such a report there is), may come, and Dr. Hallifax
is always at your service. Lord Richard Cavendish l
is come : he is a sensible boy, awkward and bashful
beyond all imagination, and eats a buttock of beef at
a meal. I have made him my visit, and we did
tolerably well considering. Watson is his public
tutor, and one Winstanley his private ; do you know
him1?

Marriott has begun a subscription for a musical
amphitheatre, has appropriated ,£500 (Mr. Titley's
legacy to the University) to that purpose, and gives
twenty guineas himself. He has drawn a design for
the building, and has printed an argument about the
poor's-rates, which he intended to have delivered from
the bench, but one of the parties dropped the cause.
He has spoke at the Quarter Sessions two hours to
gether, and moved the towns-people to tears, and the
University to laughter. At laying down his office
too he spoke Latin, and said, Inmdiam, et opinionum
de me commenta delebit dies. He enlarged (which is
never done) on the qualifications of Hinchliffe his
successor, qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urles —
1 Second son of the fourth Duke of Devonshire (1751-1781).

332 LETTERS.

gui cum Magnis vixit et placuit. Next day Hinchliffe
made his speech, and said not one word (though it is
usual) of his predecessor. I tell you Cambridge news
for want of better. They say Rigby is to move for
the expulsion of Wilkes from the house. My respects
to mamma. I am yours, T. G.

Tell me about my uncle and aunt: direct to
Roberts, Jermyn Street.

CXXXIX.— TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

December 18, 1768.

You have indeed brought yourself into a little scrape.
I would, if it were my own case, say to Lord Lisburne
(supposing you were pressed by him) that I had not
received yet any letter from Temple ; in the mean
time I would write instantly to him in Devonshire,
tell him my difficulty, and how I got into it, and
desire his consent to shew Lord Lisburne so much of
his letter as might be proper. I would then (supposing
him not averse) have a cold, or the toothache, and be
detained at Richmond, from whence I would (tran
scribing so much of this very letter as may be fit for
his lordship to see) send it to him in town, as the
substance of what I had just then received in answer
to my own. He will have suspicions (you will say)
from my not shewing him the original. No matter !
you are nothing to Lord Lisburne, perhaps you had
written to Temple about other affairs that you cannot
shew him ; he will not be so uncivil as to ask for it ;

LETTERS. 333

in short, let him suspect what he pleases, anything
is better than to shew it him, and yet I would omit
nothing in my copy but what relates to Berwick and
to the addition that he should have made to the
parsonage house. The kindness expressed for him
toward the latter part of the letter will (if he cares for
Temple) make up for all the rest.

By the way Temple does himself much credit with
me by this letter, and I did not (begging his pardon)
suspect him of writing so well ; but yet I must stand
up a little for Lord Lisburne — what occasion, pray,
for so many cordial letters (which if he were good for
nothing at bottom, must have cost him some pains of
head), and for the bribe of a living, only to gain
Temple's vote and interest, which as a relation and
friend he would have had for nothing at all. Is not
the date he sets to the beginning of Lord Lisburne's
coldness to him carried a little too far back 1 did it
not really begin a little later, when he had brought
his wife to Mamhead and they did not much like her?
These indeed are only conjectures, but they may be
true. I have to be sure a little prejudice to Madam,
but yet I must be candid enough to own that the
parsonage-house sticks a little in my stomach.

My best remembrances to Temple, and tell him I
wish he would not give too much way to his own
sensibilities, and still less (in this case) to the sensi
bilities of other people. It is always time enough to
quarrel with one's friends. Adieu ! T. Gr.

It was Mr. Bentley indeed.

334 LETTERS.

CXL. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

December 29, 1768.

OH, wicked Scroddles ! There have you gone and
told my arcanum arcanarum1 to that leaky mortal
Palgrave, who never conceals anything he is trusted
with ; and there have I been forced to write to him,
and (to bribe him to silence) have told him how much
I confided in his taciturnity, and twenty lies beside,
the guilt of which must fall on you at the last account.
Seriously, you have done very wrong. Surely you
do not remember the imprudence of Dr. G.,2 who is
well known to that rogue in Piccadilly, and who at
any time may be denounced to the party concerned,
which five shillings reward may certainly bring about.
Hitherto luckily nobody has taken any notice of it,
nor I hope ever will.

Dr. Balguy tells me you talk of Cambridge ; come

1 This arcanum arcanorum must, I think, be an allusion to
the lines written by Gray, in 1766, on Lord Holland's seat at
Kingsgate. Walpole says on these lines, ' ' I am very sorry
that he ever wrote them and ever gave a copy of them. You
may be sure I did not recommend their being printed in his works,
nor were they." The lines were written at Denton, in Kent,
when on a visit to Rev. William Robinson, and found in a
drawer of Gray's room after his departure. — [Mit.]

2 Dr. Gisborne. Who the rogue in Piccadilly was, I do not
know, for there was no Court Guide in those days. Lord Bath,
who had lived there, was dead ; but Lord March was then
living in the street. The parish rate-books, which still exist,
would be the only guide that I know in solving the mystery.
-[Mit.]

LETTERS. 335

away then forthwith, when your Christmas duties and
mince-pies are over ; for what can you do at Aston,
making snow-balls all January. Here am I just
returned from London. I have seen L[or]t whose
looks are much mended, and he has leave to break up
for a fortnight, and is gone to Bath. Poor Dr. Hurd
has undergone a painful operation : they say it was
not a fistula, but something very like it. He is now
in a way to be well, and by this time goes abroad
again. Delaval was confined two months with a like
disorder. He suffered three times under the hands of
Hawkins, and, though he has now got out, and walk
ing the streets, does not think himself cured, and
still complains of uneasy sensations. Nobody but I
and Fraser, and Dr. Koss (who it is said is just made
Dean of Ely), are quite well. Dr. Thomas,1 of Christ's,
is Bishop of Carlisle.2 Do not you feel a spice of
concupiscence 1 Adieu. I am ever yours,

T. G.

Mr. Brown's companion here is Lord Richard.
What is come of Foljambe ? 3 Service to my curate.

1 Dr. Thomas was Master of Christ's College ; was offered
a bishoprick, and persuaded by Law, formerly of Christ's and
Master of Peterhouse, to decline it, that he himself might be
nominated Bishop. Such was always the representation of Mrs.
Thomas.— [MS. Note by Professor Smyth to Mitford.]

2 Edmund Law was made Bishop of Carlisle in 1768.

3 This person was probably Francis Ferrand Home Foljambe,
who represented the county of York, 1787 ; married as his second
wife Arabella, daughter of Lord Scarborough, in 1792 ; died in
1814.— [Mit.]

336 LETTERS.

CXLI. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

DEAR NICHOLLS — I wrote to you from London, lately,
not knowing but you might care to go with me into
Yorkshire to-morrow, but as I neither find you here,
nor any letter from you, I conclude that is not to be.
I would wish by all means to oblige and serve Temple
in any way I am able, but it cannot be in his way at
present. He and you seem to think, that I have
nothing else to do but to transcribe a page from some
common -place book on this head, if it were so, I
should not hesitate a minute about it ; but as I came
from town only on Thursday last, have only two days
to pass here, and must fetch all the materials from
my own recollection, he must excuse me for the
present. Let him begin with Lord Bacon's Henry
VII. and Lord Herbert's Henry VIIL, and by that
time I return from Aston (which will be in three
weeks or less), perhaps I may be able to help him
onwards a little. I keep the letter till we meet, lest
it be lost. Adieu ! T. G.

Direct, a Mons. Mons. de B. chez Messrs. Lullin,
Freres Banquiers, rue Thevenot, Paris.

CXLII. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke College, January 2, 1769.

DEAR SIR — Here am I once again, and have sold my
estate, and got a thousand guineas, and four score

LETTERS. 337

pounds a year for my old aunt, and a £20 prize in the
lottery, and lord knows what arrears in the treasury,
and am a rich fellow enough, go to, and a fellow that
hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns, and
everything handsome about him ; and in a few days
I shall have curtains, are you avised of that ; ay, and
a mattrass to lie upon.

And there's Dr. Hallifax tells me, there are three
or four fellow -commoners got into the lodge, but
they will be out in a week's time, and all ready for
Mrs. Nicholls's reception and yours, so do your
pleasures, I invite nobody. And there's Dr. Thomas
may be Bishop of Carlisle if he pleases, and (if not)
Dr. Powell ; and in the first case Dr. Boss will be
Dean of Ely. And so I am yours, T. G.

CXLIII. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke Hall, January 26, 1769.

ARE you not well, or what has happened to you 1
It is better than three weeks since I wrote to you
(by Norwich and Yarmouth) to say I was returned
hither, and hoped to see you; that Trinity Hall
Lodge would be vacant, as Hallifax told me, to re
ceive Mrs. Nicholls and you, and we expected you
with impatience. I have had a sore throat, and now
am getting well of the gout Mason will be here on
Tuesday. Palgrave keeps Lent at home, and wants
to be asked to break it. Dr. Law has bit at the
bishoprick, and gives up near £800 a year to enjoy
VOL. III. Z

338 LETTERS.

it. Dr. Eoss has his prebend of Durham. Adieu, I
am yours, T. G.

Duty to Mamma.

CXLIV. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

[March 1769.]

DEAR SIR — I am sorry to think you are coming to
town at a time when I am ready to leave it ; but so
it must be, for here is a son born unto us, and he
must die a heathen without your assistance ; Old Pa.
is in waiting ready to receive you at your landing.
Mason set out for Yorkshire this morning. Delaval
is by no means well, and looks sadly, yet he goes
about and talks as loud as ever; he fell upon me
tooth and nail (but in a very friendly manner) only
on the credit of the newspaper, for he knows nothing
further ; told me of the obloquy that waits for me ;
and said everything to deter me from doing a thing
that is already done. Mason sat by and heard it all
with a world of complacency.

You see the determination of a majority of fifty-
four, only two members for counties among them.
It is true that Luttrell was insulted, and even struck
with a flambeau, at the door of the House of Com
mons on Friday night ; but he made no disturbance,
and got away. How he will appear in public I do
not conceive. Great disturbances are expected, and
I think with more reason than ever. Petitions to

LETTERS. 339

Parliament, well -attended, will (I suppose) be the
first step, and next, to the King to dissolve the
present Parliament. I own I apprehend the event
whether the mob or the army are to get the better.

You will wish to know what was the real state of
things on the hearse-day :l the driver, I hear, was one
Stevenson, a man who lets out carriages to Wilkes's
party, and is worth money. Lord Talbot was not rolled
in the dirt, nor struck, nor his staff broken, but made
the people a speech, and said he would down on his
knees to them if they would but disperse and be quiet.
They asked him whether he would stand on his head
for them, and begun to shoulder him, but he retired
among the soldiers. Sir Ar. Gilmour received a blow,
and seized the man who struck him, but the fellow
fell down and was hustled away among the legs of
the mob. At Bath House a page came in to his
mistress, and said, he was afraid Lady Bath did not
know what a disturbance there was below ; she asked
him if "the house was on fire1?" he said "No; but
the mob were forcing into the court:" she said "Is
that all; well I will go and look at them:" and
actually did so from some obscure window. When
she was satisfied, she said, " When they are tired of
bawling I suppose they will go home."

Mr. Eoss, a merchant, was very near murdered,

1 March 22, 1769 ; the hearse, with two white and two
black horses, headed the cavalcade, and bore sensational repre
sentations—on one side, of the soldiers firing at young Allen
— on the other, of the Brentford murder. — [Ed.]

340 LETTERS.

as the advertisement sets forth, by a man with a
hammer, who is not yet discovered, in spite of the
£600 reward. I stay a week longer. Adieu : I am
ever yours, T. G.

CXLV.— TO THOMAS WHARTON.

London, April 20, 1769.

DEAH DOCTOR — You have reason to call me negli
gent, nor have I anything to allege in my own de
fence, but two successive fits of the gout, which
though weakly and not severe, were at least dispirit
ing, and lasted a long time. I rejoiced to hear your
alarms for Robin and Kitty ended so happily, and
with them (I hope), are fled a great part of your
future inquietudes on their account. In the summer
I flatter myself we may all meet in health once more
at Old Park, and a part of us perhaps at the foot of
Skiddaw. I am to call Mason in my way, and bring him
with me to visit his own works. Mr. Brown admitted
your nephew according to your orders, and will pro
vide him with a room against October.

I do not guess, what intelligence Stonehewer gave
you about my employments : but the worst employ
ment I have had has been to write something for
musick against the Duke of Graf ton comes to .Cam
bridge. I must comfort myself with the intention :
for I know it will bring abuse enough on me;1 how-

1 When the late Duke of Grafton was elected Chancellor of
the University of Cambridge, it is known that Mr. Gray, from

LETTEKS. 341

ever it is done, and given to the Vice-chancellor, and
there is an end. I am come to town for a fortnight,
and find everything in extreme confusion, as you
may guess from your newspapers : nothing but
force threatened on both sides, and the law (as
usual) watching the event and ready to side with
the strongest. The only good thing I hear is, that
France is on the brink of a general bankruptcy, and
their fleet (the only thing they have laid out money
on of late) in no condition of service.

The spring is come in all its beauty, and for two
or three days I am going to meet it at Windsor.
Adieu ! and let us pray it may continue till July.
Eemember me to Mrs. Wharton, and all the family.
—I am ever yours, T. G.

Mason has just left us and is gone to Aston.

an impulse of what he looked on as a species of duty, spon
taneously offered to write the Ode for his Grace's installation.
He considered it nevertheless as a sort of task, as a set com
position ; and a considerable time passed before he could pre
vail upon himself, or rather before he actually felt the power
to begin it. But one morning after breakfast, Mr. Nicholls
called on him, and knocking at his chamber door, Mr. Gray
got up hastily, and threw it open himself, and running up to
him, in a hurried voice and tone exclaimed, "Hence, avaunt !
'tis holy ground!" Mr. Nicholls was so astonished, that he
thought his senses were deranged ; but Mr. Gray in a moment
after resumed his usual pleasant manner, and repeating several
verses at the beginning of that inimitable composition, said,
"Well, I have begun the Ode, and now I shall finish it."— _
[Mathias.]

342 LETTERS.

CXLVI. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke, Wednesday, June 7.

I HAVE just recollected that Mr. Boycot may possibly
be able to give you some assistance.

P.S. — Well ! why, you don't say anything to me.
Here am I; and as soon as our ceremonies are over,
look with your telescope at the top of Skiddaw, and
you will see me.

CXLVII. — TO RICHARD STONEHEWER — FRAGMENT.

Cambridge, June 12.

I DID not intend the Duke should have heard me till
he could not help it. You are desired to make the
best excuses you can to his Grace for the liberty I
have taken of praising him to his face ; but as some
body was necessarily to do this, I did not see why
Gratitude should sit silent and leave it to Expecta
tion to sing, who certainly would have sung, and that
& gorge deployee upon such an occasion.

CXLVIII. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke College, June 24, 1769.

AND so you have a garden of your own, and you
plant and transplant, and are dirty and amused ; are
not you ashamed of yourself 1 why, I have no such

LETTERS. 343

thing, you monster ; nor ever shall be either dirty
or amused as long as I live ! my gardens are in the
window, like those of a lodger up three pair of stairs
in Petticoat Lane or Camomile Street, and they go
to bed regularly under the same roof that I do:
dear, how charming it must be to walk out in one's
own garden, and sit on a bench in the open air with
a fountain, and a leaden statue, and a rolling stone,
and an arbour! have a care of sore throats though,
and the agoe.

Odide1 has been rehearsed again and again, and the
boys have got scraps by heart ; I expect to see it
torn piece-meal in the North Briton before it is born ;
the music is as good as the words; the former might
be taken for mine, and the latter for Dr. Eandal's ;
if you will come, you shall see it, and sing in it with
Mr. Norris, and Mr. Clarke, the clergyman, and Mr.
Reinholt, and Miss Thomas, great names at Salisbury
and Gloster music-meeting, and well versed in Judas
Maccabceus. Dr. Marriott is to have Lord Sandwich
and the Attorney-General at his lodge, not to men
tion foreign ministers, who are to lie with Dr. Halli-
fax, or in the stables. Lord North is at King's, Lord
Weymouth at Mrs. Arbuthnot's, they talk of the D.

1 The Installation Ode. It was put to music by Dr. John
Randall (1715-1799), Professor of Music in the University of
Cambridge since 1755, and it was performed on the 1st of July
1769. The principal executants were Charles Frederick Rein-
holt (1737-1815), the popular bass singer, and Thomas Norris
(1745-1790), the soprano, who died in consequence of his efforts
at the Birmingham Festival in 1790.— [Ed.}

344 LETTERS.

of Bedford, who (I suppose), has a bed in King's
Chapel. The Archbishop is to be at Christ's ; Bps.
of London at Clare Hall ; of Lincoln, at Dr. Gor
don's ; of Chester, at Peter House ; of Norwich, at
Jesus ; of St. David's, at Caius ; of Bangor, at the Dog
and Porridge-pot; Marq. of Granby, at Woodyer's.
The Yorkes and Townshends will not come. Soulsby
the tailor lets his room for eleven guineas the three
days, Woodyer aforesaid, for fifteen. Brotherton
asks twenty. I have a bed over the way offered
me at three half-crowns a night, but it may be gone
before you come. I believe all that are unlet will be
cheap as the time approaches. I wish it were once
over, and immediately I go for a few days to London,
and so (with Mr. Brown) to Aston, though I fear it
will rain the whole summer, and Skiddaw will be in
visible and inaccessible to mortals. I forgot to tell
you, that on the Monday (after his Grace has break
fasted on a divinity-act), twelve noblemen and fellow-
commoners are to settle his stomach with verses made
and repeated by themselves. Saturday next (you
know) is the great day, and he goes away on
Monday after this repast.

I have got De la Lande's Voyage through Italy, in
eight volumes ; he is a member of the Academy of
Sciences, and pretty good to read. I have read an
octavo volume of Shenstone's Letters ; poor man !
he was always wishing for money, for fame, and other
distinctions ; and his whole philosophy consisted in
living against his will in retirement, and in a place

LETTERS. 345

which his taste had adorned, but which he only en
joyed when people of note came to see and commend
it. His correspondence is about nothing else but
this place, and his own writings with two or three
neighbouring clergymen, who wrote verses too.

I will send the Wilton-book directed to Payne for
you, though I know it will be lost, and then you will
say it was not worth above a shilling, which is a great
comfort to me. I have just found the beginning of
a letter which somebody has dropped : I should rather
call it first thoughts for the beginning of a letter, for
there are many scratches and corrections. As I can
not use it myself (having got a beginning already of
my own), I send it for your use upon some great
occasion.

DEAR SIR — After so long silence the hopes of par
don and prospect of forgiveness might seem entirely
extinct or at least very remote, was I not truly sen
sible of your goodness and candour, which is the only
asylum that my negligence can fly to; since every
apology would prove insufficient to counterbalance it,
or alleviate my fault. How then shall my deficiency
presume to make so bold an attempt, or be able to
suffer the hardships of so rough a campaign, etc.
And am, dear Sir, kindly yours, T. G.

— I do not publish at all, but Alma Mater
prints five or six hundred for the company. I have
nothing more to add about Southampton than what
you have transcibed already in your map-book.

346 LETTERS.

CXLIX.— TO JAMES BEATTIE.

Cambridge, July 16, 1769.

THE late ceremony of the Duke of Grafton's instal
lation has hindered me from acknowledging sooner
the satisfaction your friendly compliment gave me :
I thought myself bound in gratitude to his Grace, un
asked, to take upon me. the task of writing those
verses which are usually set to music on this occa
sion. I do not think them worth sending you, be
cause they are by nature doomed to live but a single
day; or, if their existence is prolonged beyond that
date, it is only by means of newspaper parodies, and
witless criticisms. This sort of abuse I had reason
to expect, but did not think it worth while to avoid.

Mr. Foulis is magnificent in his gratitude : l I can
not figure to myself how it can be worth his while to
offer me such a present You can judge better of it
than I ; if he does not hurt himself by it, I would
accept his Homer with many thanks. I have not
got or even seen it.

I could wish to subscribe to his new edition of
Milton, and desire to be set down for two copies of
the large paper ; but you must inform me where and
when I may pay the money.

1 When the Glasgow edition of Mr. Gray's Poems was sold
off (which it was in a short time), Mr. Foulis finding himself a
considerable gainer, mentioned to Mr. Beattie that he wished to
make Mr. Gray a present either of his Homer, in 4 vols. folio,
or the Greek Historians, printed likewise at his press, in 29
vols. duodecimo. — [Jfason.]

LETTERS. 347

You have taught me to long for a second letter,
and particularly for what you say will make the con
tents of it. I have nothing to requite it with, but
plain and friendly truth; and that you shall have
joined to a zeal for your fame, and a pleasure in your
success.

I am now setting forward on a journey towards
the North of England : but it will not reach so far
as I could wish. I must return hither before Michael
mas, and shall barely have time to visit a few places
and a few friends.

CL. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Pembroke College, July 17, 1769.

DEAR DOCTOR — Mason being in residence at York,
I lay aside my first design of going obliquely to
Aston, and thence to Keswick ; and set out with Mr.
Brown to-morrow the common northern road. We
shall probably pass two or three days at York, and
then come to Old Park. About the end of August
we may cross the Appennine, and visit M. Skiddaw,
when Mason may accompany or meet us on our way,
and so you drop me there to find my way through
the deserts of Lancashire in my return homewards.

I am so fat, that I have suffered more from heat
this last fortnight, than ever I did in Italy. The
thermometer usually at 75, and (in the sun) at 116.
My respects to Mrs. Wharton and the family. — I am
ever yours, T. G.

348 LETTERS.

CLL — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Old Park, Saturday, August 26, 1769.
DEAR MASON — I received last night your letter, big
with another a week older than itself. You might as
well have wrote to me from the deserts of Arabia, and
desired me to step over and drink a dish of tea with
you. This morning I sent to Auckland for a chaise ;
the man's answer is that he had a chaise with four
horses returned yesterday from Hartlepool, that the
road was next to impassable, and so dangerous that
he does not think of sending out any other that way,
unless the season should change to a long drought.
I would have gone by Durham, but am assured that
road is rather worse. What can I do ? You speak
so jauntily, and enter so little into any detail of your
own journey, that I conclude you came on horseback
from Stockton (which road, however, is little better
for carriages). If so, we hope you will ride over to
Old Park with Mr. Alderson ; there is room for you
both, and hearty welcome. The doctor even talks of
coming (for he can ride) to invite you on Monday.
I wonder how you are accommodated where you are,
and what you are doing with Gen. Carey. I would
give my ears to get thither, but all depends on the
sun. Adieu.

It is twenty miles to Old Park, and the way is by
Hart, over Sheraton Moor, and through Trimdon.
There is no village else that has a name. Pray write
a line by the bearer. T. GRAY.

LETTERS. 349

We have a confirmation of the above account of the
state of the roads from other evidences ; nevertheless, I
shall certainly come on horseback on Monday to inquire
after your proceedings and designs, and to prevail upon
you and Mr. Alder son to return with me to Old Park
A rainy morning, perhaps, may stop us a few hours, but
when it clears up I shall set forward. Adieu; accept
all our compliments. — Yours ever, T. WHARTON.

CLII. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Lancaster, October 10, 1769.

DEAR SIR — I set out on the 29th September, with
poor Doctor Wharton, and lay at Brough, but he was
seized with a fit of the asthma the same night, and
obliged in the morning to return home. I went by
Penrith to Keswick, and passed six days there lap'd
in Elysium ; then came slowly by Ambleside to Ken-
dal, and this day arrived here. I now am projecting
to strike across the hills into Yorkshire, by Settle,
and so get to Mason's ; then, after a few days, I shall
move gently towards Cambridge. The weather has
favoured all my motions just as I could wish.

I received your letter of 23d September ; was glad
you deviated a little from the common track, and
rejoiced you got well and safe home. — I am, ever
yours, T. G.

350 LETTERS.

CLIII. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Aston, October 18, 1769.

DEAR DOCTOR — I hope you got safe and well home
after that troublesome night : 1 I long to hear you say
so. For me I have continued well, been so favoured
by the weather, that my walks have never once been
hindered till yesterday (that is during a fortnight
and 3 or 4 days, and a journey of 300 miles, and
more), and am now at Aston for two days. To-mor
row I go towards Cambridge : Mason is not here,
but Mr. Alderson receives me. My best respects to
the family. Adieu ! — I am ever yours.
Pray tell me about Stonehewer.

CLIV.— TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — Have you lost the former part of my
journal ? It was dated from Aston,, 18th October. How
does Stonehewer do? Will his fathers condition
allow him to return as yet ? I beg my respects to all
the family at Old Park, and am ever yours,

T. G.
Cambridge, 29th October 1769.

1 Dr. Wharton, who had intended to accompany Mr. Gray
to Keswick, was seized at Brough with a violent fit of his asthma,
which obliged him to return home. This was the reason that
Mr. Gray undertook to write the journal of his tour for his
friend's amusement. — [Mason.]

LETTERS. 351

CLV. — TO RICHARD STONEHEWER,
(By Caxton Bag.)

Cambridge, November 2, 1769.

MY DEAR SIR — I am sincerely pleased with every
mark of your kindness, and as such I look upon your
last letter in particular.1 I feel for the sorrow you
have felt, and yet I cannot wish to lessen it ; that
would be to rob you of the best part of your nature,
to efface from your mind the tender memory of a
father's love, and deprive the dead of that just and
grateful tribute which his goodness demanded from
you.

I must, however, remind you how happy it was for
him that you were with him to the last ; that he was
sensible, perhaps, of your care, when every other
sense was vanishing. He might have lost you the
last year,2 might have seen you go before him, at a
time when all the ills of helpless old age were coming
upon him, and, though not destitute of the attention
and tenderness of others, yet destitute of your atten
tion and ywr tenderness. May God preserve you,
my best friend, and, long after my eyes are closed,
give you that last satisfaction in the gratitude and
affection of a son, which you have given your father.

I am ever most truly and entirely yours,

T. G.

1 Mr. Stonehewer's father, the Kev. Kichard Stonehewer,
D.D., Rector of Houghton-le-Spring, Durham, died 1769.

2 I had been very ill at the time alluded to.— [Stonehewer.']

352 LETTERS.

CLVI. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

I BEG your pardon, but I have no franks. The quill
arrived very safe, and doubtless is a very snug and
commodious method of travelling ; for one of the
rarities was alive and hearty, and was three times
plunged in spirits, before I could get it to die. You
are much improved in observation, for a common eye
would certainly take it for a pismire. The place of
its birth, form of the antenna, and abdomen, particu
larly the long aculeus under it, shew it to be a Cynips
(look among the Hymenoptera) not yet complete, for
the four wings do not yet appear, that I see. It is
not a species described by Linnaeus, though he men
tions others, that breed on the leaves, footstalks, buds,
flowers, and bark of the oak. Remember me to Mrs.
Wharton and the family. My love to Stonehewer, if
he has not left Durham. Adieu 1
[November 1769.]

CLVII. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke College, December 2, 1769.
DEAR SIR — I am afraid something is the matter with
you that I hear nothing from you since I passed two
days with you in your absence. I am not in Ireland,
as you perhaps might imagine by this natural sentence,
but shall be as glad to hear from you as if I were.
A week ago I saw something in the newspaper

LETTERS. 353

signed "An Enemy to Brick Walls in Improper
Places." While I was studying how, for brevity's
sake, to translate this into Greek, Mr. Brown did it
in one word, Mao-ovi8??s. I hope it is not that com
plaint, hard I must own to digest, that sticks in your
stomach, and makes you thus silent.

I am sorry to tell you that I hear a very bad
account of Dr. Kurd. He was taken very ill at
Thurcaston, and obliged with difficulty to be carried
in a chaise to Leicester. He remained there confined
some time before he could be conveyed on to London.
As they do not mention what his malady is, I am much
afraid it is a return of the same disorder that he had
last year in town. I am going thither for a few
days myself, and shall soon be able to tell you more
of him.

Wyatt1 is returned hither very calm but melan
choly, and looking dreadfully pale. He thinks of
orders, I am told. Adieu. — I am ever yours,

T. G.

CLVIIL — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Jermyn Street, December 14, 1769.

DEAR SIR — I have seen Dr. Kurd, and find the story
I told you is not true, though (I thought) I had it on

1 The Rev. William Wyatt, A.M., F.R.S., elected Fellow
of Pembroke College in 1763, Rector of Framlingham-cum-
Saxted in 1782, and in 1792 of Theberton in Suffolk ; buried
February 8, 1813, aged 71 years.— [MY.]

VOL. III. 2 A

354 LETTERS.

very good authority. He was indeed ill at Thurcas-
ton, but not so since, and walked an hour in Lincoln's
Inn walks with me very hearty, though his complexion
presages no good. St[onehewer] is come to town, and
in good health. The weather and the times look very
gloomy, and hang on my spirits, though I go to the
Italian puppet show (the reigning diversion) to ex
hilarate them. I return to Cambridge on Tuesday
next, where I desire you would send me a more
exhilarating letter. Adieu. — I am ever yours,

T. G.

All your acquaintances here are well — Lord Newn-
ham and Mr. Ramsden, and all

CLIX. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Pembroke College, January 3, 1770.

HAPPY new year and many to you all! Hepatica
and mezereon now in flower ! I saw Mrs. Jonathan,
who is much fallen away, and was all in tears for the
loss of her brother's child: she and Miss Wilson
desired their compliments. Your nephew is here
and very well ; so is Mr. Brown, who presents his
best wishes.1

1 The rest of this letter is lost.-

LETTERS.

355

CLX. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Cambridge, January 6, 1770.

[HENCE, vain deluding joys, is our motto here, written
on every feature, and hourly spoken by every solitary
chapel bell ; so that decently you can't expect no other
but a very grave letter. I really beg your pardon to
wrap up my thoughts in so smart a dress, as in a
quarto sheet. I know they should appear in a folio
leaf, but the ideas themselves shall look so solemn as
to belie their dress. Though I wear not yet the
black gown, and am only an inferior priest in the
temple of meditation, yet my countenance is already
consecrated. I never walk but with even steps and
musing gait, and looks conversing with the skies;
and unfold my wrinkles only when I see Mr. Gray,
or think of you. Then, notwithstanding all your
learnings and knowledge, I feel in such occasions
that I have a heart, which you know is as some
others, a quite profane thing to carry under a black
gown.

I am in a hurry from morning till evening. At
eight o'clock I am roused by a young square cap,
with whom I follow Satan through chaos and night.
He explained me in Greek and Latin, the sweet reluc
tant amorous delays of our grandmother Eve. We
finish our travels in a copious breakfast of muffins
and tea. Then appear Shakespeare and old Linneus
struggling together as two ghosts would do for a

356 LETTERS.

damned soul. Sometimes the one get the better,
sometimes the other. Mr. Gray, whose acquaint
ance is my greatest debt to you, is so good as to
shew me Macbeth, and all witches, beldams, ghosts
and spirits, whose language I never could have
understood without his interpretation. I am now
endeavouring to dress all those people in a French
dress, which is a very hard labour.

I am afraid to take a room, which Mr. Gray shall
keep much better. So I stop my ever rambling pen.
My respectful compliments to Mrs. Nicholls. Only
remember that you have nowhere a better or more
grateful friend than your

de Bonstetten.

I loos'd Mr. Wheeler letter and his direction.]

I never saw such a boy ; our breed is not made
on this model. He is busy from morning to night,
has no other amusement than that of changing one
study for another; likes nobody that he sees here,
and yet wishes to stay longer, though he has passed
a whole fortnight with us already. His letter has
had no correction whatever, and is prettier by half
than English.

Would not you hazard your journal : I want to
see what you have done this summer, though it
would be safer and better to bring it yourself,
methinks !

Complimens respectueux a Mad. Nichole, et a
notre aimable Cousine la Sposa. T. G.

LETTERS. 357

CLXI. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

March 20, 1770.

DEAR SIR — I am sorry for your disappointment and
my own. Do not believe that I am cold to Mr.
Clarke's translation;1 on the contrary, I long to see it,
and wonder you should hesitate for want of franks
(which here I have no means of getting), do I care
about postage, do you think 1

On Wednesday next, I go (for a few days) with
Mons. de Bonstetten to London. His cursed Father
will have him home in the autumn, and he must pass
through France to improve his talents and morals.
He goes for Dover on Friday. I have seen (I own)
with pleasure the efforts you have made to recom
mend me to him, sed non ego credulus illis, nor I fear,
he neither. He gives me too much pleasure, and at
least an equal share of inquietude. You do not under
stand him so well as I do, but I leave my meaning
imperfect, till we meet. I have never met with so
extraordinary a person. God bless him ! I am unable
to talk to you about anything else I think.

I wondered you should think of Paris at the time
of the Dauphin's marriage; it will be a frippery
spectacle, and the expense of everything triple. As
to Wales, doubtless I should wish it this summer,
but I can answer for nothing, my own employment

1 Military Institutions of Vezetius, in four books, translated
from the Latin by John Clarke, 1767.

358 LETTERS.

so sticks in my stomach, and troubles my conscience.
When I return hither, I will write to you better and
more fully. Adieu ! — I am very sincerely yours,

T. G.

CLXII. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke Hall, April 4, 1770.

AT length, my dear sir, we have lost our poor de
Bonstetten, I packed him up with my own hands in
the Dover machine at four o'clock in the morning on
Friday, 23d March ; the next day at seven he sailed
and reached Calais by noon, and Boulogne at night ;
the next night he reached Abbeville, where he had
letters to Mad. Vanrobais, to whom belongs the
famous manufacture of cloth there. From thence
he wrote to me, and here am I again to pass my
solitary evenings, which hung much lighter on my
hands before I knew him. This is your fault ! Pray
let the next you send me be halt and blind, dull, un
apprehensive, and wrong headed. For this (as Lady
Constance says) Was never such a gracious weature born !
and yet — but no matter ! burn my letter that I wrote
you, for I am very much out of humour with myself,
and will not believe a word of it. You will think I
have caught madness from him (for he is certainly
mad) and perhaps you will be right. Oh ! what
things are fathers and mothers ! I thought they were
to be found only in England, but you see.

Where is Captain Clarke's translation? where is

LETTERS. 359

your journal 1 do you still haggle for me to save six
pence, you niggard 1 why now I have been in town
and brought no franks with me yet. The transla
tion of Gruner cannot be had this month or six weeks,
so I am destitute of all things. This place never
appeared so horrible to me as it does now. Could
not you come for a week or fortnight ? it would be
sunshine to me in a dark night? even Dr. Hallifax
wishes you would come. At least write to me out of
hand, for I am truly and faithfully yours,

T. G.

"Vous ne voyez plus que de la misere et de la
gayete, les villages sont plus rares, plus petits : le
silence dans ces deserts annonce par tout un maitre,
il me sembloit, que je devois demander a ces hommes
en guenilles, * qui leur avoit pris leurs habits, leurs
maisons? quelle peste avoit ravage" la nation?' Mais
ils ont le bonheur de ne penser point, et de jouer
jusqu'au moment qu'on les engorge.

"Mais gardens notre indignation pour $eux qui
sont si stupides, qu'ils prennent de pareilles moeurs
pour modeles."

360 LETTERS.

CLXIII. — TO CHARLES VON BONSTETTEN.

Cambridge, April 12, 1770.

NEVER did I feel, my dear Bonstetten,1 to what a
tedious length the few short moments of our life may
be extended by impatience and expectation, till you had
left me ; nor ever knew before with so strong a con
viction how much this frail body sympathizes with
the inquietude of the mind. I am grown old in the
compass of less than three weeks, like the Sultan in
the Turkish tales, that did but plunge his head into
a vessel of water and take it out again, as the standers
by affirmed, at the command of a Dervise, and found
he had passed many years in captivity, and begot a
large family of children. The strength and spirits
that now enable me to write to you, are only owing

1 Charles Von Bonstetten was Baillie of Nion, in the canton
of Berne, author of letters on the Pastoral Parts of Switzerland,
etc., and some other works. Mr. Mason (it appears) applied to
him for leave to publish these letters, which he refused ; after
wards permitting them to be printed by his friend Mathison, in
the notes to some stanzas on the Leman Lake, in which Gray
is introduced —

"Where Agathon, the Muses', Graces' pride,
The palace's delight, the peasant's stay ;
E'en hence to distant Jura's shaggy side,

In warmest friendship clasped me as his Gray."
"Gray took lodgings for Bonstetten at Cambridge, near to
his own rooms, and used to visit him in the evening, and read
classical authors with him." These few words contained all
about Gray, that Bonstetten told the Hon W. Ward (Lord
Dudley) who communicated them to me. — [Mit.]

LETTERS. 361

to your last letter a temporary gleam of sunshine.
Heaven knows when it may shine again ! I did not
conceive till now, I own, what it was to lose you, nor
felt the solitude and insipidity of my own condition
before I possessed the happiness of your friendship.
I must cite another Greek writer to you, because it is
much to my purpose : he is describing the character
of a genius truly inclined to philosophy. "It includes,"
he says, "qualifications rarely united in one single
mind, quickness of apprehension and a retentive
memory, vivacity and application, gentleness and
magnanimity ; to these he adds an invincible love of
truth, and consequently of probity and justice. Such
a soul," continues he, "will be little inclined to
sensual pleasures, and consequently temperate ; a
stranger to illiberality and avarice \ being accustomed
to the most extensive views of things, and sublimest
contemplations, it will contract an habitual greatness,
will look down with a kind of disregard on human
life and on death ; consequently, will possess the
truest fortitude. Such," says he, "'is the mind born
to govern the rest of mankind." But these very
endowments, so necessary to a soul formed for philo
sophy, are often its ruin, especially when joined to
the external advantages of wealth, nobility, strength,
and beauty ; that is, if it light on a bad soil, and want
its proper nurture, which nothing but an excellent
education can bestow. In this case he is depraved by
the public example, the assemblies of the people, the
courts of justice, the theatres, that inspire it with

362 LETTERS.

false opinions, terrify it with false infamy, or elevate
it with false applause; and remember, that extra
ordinary vices and extraordinary virtues are equally
the produce of a vigorous mind : little souls are alike
incapable of the one and the other.

If you have ever met with the portrait sketched
out by Plato, you will know it again : for my part,
to my sorrow I have had that happiness. I see the
principal features, and I foresee the dangers with a
trembling anxiety. But enough of this, I return to
your letter. It proves at least, that in the midst of
your new gaieties I still hold some place in your
memory, and, what pleases me above all, it has an
air of undissembled sincerity. Go on, my best and
amiable friend, to shew me your heart simply and
without the shadow of disguise, and leave me to weep
over it, as I now do, no matter whether from joy or
sorrow.

CLXIV. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Cambridge, April 14, 1770.

I THOUGHT my mysteries were but too easy to explain,
however you must have a little patience, for I can
hazard only word of mouth. What you say of poor
Bonstetten is so true, and (let me add) expresses so
well my own feelings, that I shall transcribe your
words and send them to him : were I in his place I
should be grateful for them ; by this time I should
think you may have received a letter from him your-

LETTERS. 363

self, for in that I received from Abbeville, 31st March,
he spoke of his intention to write to you. I wrote
to you myself as soon as I returned from London, the
first (I think) of April.

I am coming to see you, my good friend, that is,
on Monday se'nnight, I mean to call on Palgrave for
a few days in my way to Blundeston. As to Wales
you may do with me what you please, I care not.
There is this inconvenience in our way, that I must
call on Mason at Aston (and so may you too) for a
little while, the last week in May : from thence we
strike across to Chester and enter Wales. For the
summer of next year (though I shall be dead first) I
am your man, only I desire it may be a secret be
tween ourselves till the time comes, as you love your
life.

I rejoice to see you are so great a gardener and
botanist : my instructions will be very poor : De
Bonstetten, with five lessons from Miller (before he
departed for Sumatra) and his own matchless industry,
could have told you much more than I can. It would
be strange if I should blame you for reading Isocrates :
I did s6 myself twenty years ago, and in an edition
at least as bad as yours. The Panegyric^ The De Pace,
Areopagitica, and Advice to Philip, are by far the
noblest remains we have of this writer, and equal to
most things extant in the Greek tongue : but it
depends on your judgment to distinguish between his
real and occasional opinion of things, as he directly
contradicts in one place what he has advanced in

364 LETTEES.

another ; for example, in the Panathenaic and the De
Pace, etc., on the naval power of Athens : the latter
of the two is undoubtedly his own undisguised
sentiment.

Talk your fill to me and spare not. It would,
perhaps, be more nattering if you lived in the midst
of an agreeable society : but even as it is, I take it in
good part, and heartily thank you, for you have given
me a late instance of your partiality and kindness
that I shall ever remember.

I received on the 10th of this month a long letter
from Paris, lively and sensible as usual : but you will
see it, and I shall hope for a sight of such as you have
got by you. There are two different directions : A
Monsieur Mr. B. 4 1'hotel de Luxembourg, rue des
Petits Augustins, Fauxbourg St. Germain, Paris.
The other to the same, chez Messrs. Lullin Freres, et
Eittich, rue Thevenot, Paris. The latter seems the
safer, but then I am uncertain whether I read it right.
What shall I do ? I have tried both ways, but do not
know yet with what success. Adieu ! dear sir, I am
very faithfully yours,

CLXV. — TO THOMAS WARTON.

Pembroke Hall, April 15, 1770.

SIR — Our friend, Dr. Hurd, having long ago desired
me, in your name to communicate any fragments or
sketches of a design, I once had, to give a History of

LETTERS. 365

English Poetry,1 you may well think me rude or negli
gent, when you see me hesitating for so many months,
before I comply with your request, and yet, believe
me, few of your friends have been better pleased
than I, to find this subject (surely neither unenter-
taining nor unuseful) had fallen into hands so likely
to do it justice. Few have felt a higher esteem for
your talents, your taste, and industry. In truth, the
only cause of my delay, has been a sort of diffidence,
that would not let me send you anything, so short,
so slight, and so imperfect as the few materials I had
begun to collect, or the observations I had made on
them. A sketch of the division or arrangement of
the subject, however, I venture to transcribe; and
would wish to know, whether it corresponds in any
thing with your own plan, for I am told your first
volume is in the press.

INTRODUCTION.

On the Poetry of the Gallic or Celtic nations, as
far back as it can be traced. On that of the Goths,
its introduction into these islands by the Saxons and
Danes, and its duration. On the origin of rhyme
among the Franks, the Saxons, and Prove^aux.
Some account of the Latin rhyming poetry, from its
early origin, down to the fifteenth century.

1 See a letter from Thos. Warton to Garrick, June 28, 1769,
in which he says Gray had once an intention of this sort (of
writing the History of English Poetry), but he dropt it, as may
be seen by an Advt. to his Norway Odes.—[Mit.]

366 LETTERS.

PART L

On the School of Provence, which rose about the
year 1100, and was soon followed by the French and
Italians. Their heroic poetry, or romances in verse,
allegories, fabliaux, syrvientes, comedies, farces, can-
zoni, sonnetts, ballades, madrigals, sestines, etc. Of
their imitators, the French; and of the first Italian
School, commonly called the Sicilian, about the year
1200, brought to perfection by Dante, Petrarch,
Boccace, and others. State of poetry in England
from the Conquest, 1066, or rather from Henry the
Second's time, 1154, to the reign of Edward the
Third, 1327.

PART IL

On Chaucer, who first introduced the manner of
the Proven^aux, improved by the Italians into our
country. His character, and merits at large. The
different kinds in which he excelled. Gower,
Occleve, Lydgate, Hawes, Gawen Douglas, Lynde-
say, Bellenden, Dunbar, etc.

PART IIL

Second Italian School, of Ariosto, Tasso, etc., an
improvement on the first, occasioned by the revival
of letters, the end of the fifteenth century. The
Lyric Poetry of this and the former age, introduced
from Italy by Lord Surrey, Sir T. Wyat, Bryan Lord
Vaulx, etc., in the beginning of the sixteenth century.

LETTERS. 367

PART IV.

Spenser, his character. Subject of his poem, alle
goric and romantic, of Provengal invention : but his
manner of tracing it borrowed from the second Italian
school. — Drayton, Fairfax, Phineas Fletcher, Golding,
Phaer, etc. This school ends in Milton. A third
Italian school, full of conceit, began in Queen Eliza
beth's reign, continued under James, and Charles the
First, by Donne, Crashaw, Cleveland; carried to its
height by Cowley, and ending perhaps in Sprat

PART V.

School of France, introduced after the Eestoration.
— Waller, Dryden, Addison, Prior, and Pope, — which
has continued to our own times.

You will observe that my idea was in some
measure taken from a scribbled paper of Pope, of
which I believe you have a copy. You will also see,
I had excluded Dramatic poetry entirely; which if
you had taken in, it would at least double the bulk
and labour of your book. — I am, sir, with great
esteem, your most humble and obedient servant,

THOMAS GRAY.

. — There is a most objectionable Classification
of the Poets in Dr. J. Warton's Essay on Pope, v. Ded.
V. 1, p. 12.

368 LETTEKS.

CLXVI. — TO THOMAS WHAKTON.

April 18, 1770.

MY DEAR SIR — I have been sincerely anxious for
Miss Wharton, whose illness must have been indeed
severe. If she is only now recovering, let us hope
everything from the spring, which begins (though
slowly) to give new life to all things, and pray give
my best respects to her, and thanks for remembering
me and my Dictionary at a time, when she well may
be excused for thinking of nothing but herself.

I do think of seeing Wales this summer. Having
never found my spirits lower than at present, and
feeling that motion and change of the scene is abso
lutely necessary to me. I will make Aston in my
way to Chester, and shall rejoice to meet you there,
the last week in May ; Mason writes me word, that he
wishes it, and though his old house is down, and his
new one not up, proposes to receive us like princes
in grain. Adieu ! my dear Sir, and believe me, most
faithfully yours, T. G.

My best compliments to Mrs. Wharton and the
family. Our weather till Christmas continued mild and
open j 28th December some snow fell, but did not lie.
The 4th of January was stormy and snowy, which
was often repeated during that month. And yet the
latter half of it was warm and gentle. 18th February
was snow again, the rest of it mostly fine. Snow again

LETTERS. 369

on 15th March ; from 23d to 30th of March was cold
and dry, wind East, or Korth East; on the 31st rain,
from thence till within a week past, wind North
West, or North East, with much hail and sleet ; and
on 4th April, a thunder-storm. It is now fine spring
weather.

1 March. First Violet appeared. Frogs abroad.

4 , , Almond blowed ; and Gooseberry spread its leaves.
9 ,, Apricot blowed.

1 April. Violets in full bloom, and double Daffodils.

5 ,, Wren singing. Double Jonquils.

CLXVII. — TO CHARLES VON BONSTETTEN.

April 19, 1770.

ALAS ! how do I every moment feel the truth of what
I have somewhere read, " Ce n'est pas le voir, que de
s'en souvenir;" and yet that remembrance is the
only satisfaction I have left. My life now is but a
conversation with your shadow — the known sound of
your voice still rings in my ears — there, on the corner
of the fender, you are standing, or tinkling on the
piano-forte, or stretched at length on the sofa. Do
you reflect, my dearest friend, that it is a week or
eight days before I can receive a letter from you, and
as much more before you can have my answer ; that
all that time I am employed, with more than Herculean
toil, in pushing the tedious hours along, and wishing
to annihilate them; the more I strive, the heavier
they move, and the longer they grow. I cannot bear
this place, where I have spent many tedious years
VOL. in. 2 B

370 LETTERS.

within less than a month since you left me. I am
going for a few days to see poor N[icholls], invited
by a letter, wherein he mentions you in such terms
as add to my regard for him, and express my own
sentiments better than I can do myself. " I am con
cerned," says he, "that I cannot pass my life with
him; I never met with any one who pleased and
suited me so well : the miracle to me is, how he comes
to be so little spoiled : and the miracle of miracles
will be, if he continues so in the midst of every danger
and seduction, and without any advantages but from
his own excellent nature and understanding. I own
I am very anxious for him on this account, and
perhaps your inquietude may have proceeded from
the same cause. I hope I am to hear when he has
passed that cursed sea, or will he forget me thus in
insulam relegatum? If he should it is out of my
power to retaliate."

Surely you have written to him, my dear Bon-
stetten, or surely you will ! he has moved me with
these gentle and sensible expressions of his kindness
for you : are you untouched by them 1

You do me the credit, and false or true it goes
to my heart, of ascribing to me your love for many
virtues of the highest rank. Would to heaven it
were so ! but they are indeed the fruits of your own
noble and generous understanding, which has hitherto
struggled against the stream of custom, passion, and
ill company, even when you were but a child ; and
will you now give way to that stream when your

LETTERS. 371

strength is increased? Shall the jargon of French
Sophists, the allurements of painted women comme il
faut, or the vulgar caresses of prostitute beauty, the
property of all who can afford to purchase it, induce
you to give up a mind and body by nature distinguished
from all others, to folly, idleness, disease, and vain
remorse? Have a care, my ever amiable friend, of
loving what you do not approve. Know me for your
most faithful and most humble despote.

CLXVIII. — TO CHAKLES VON BONSTETTEN.1

May 9, 1770.

I AM returned, my dear Bonstetten, from the little
journey I made into Suffolk, without answering the
end proposed. The thought that you might have
been with me there, has embittered all my hours:
your letter has made me happy, as happy as so
gloomy, so solitary a being as I am, is capable of
being made. I know, and have too often felt the
disadvantages I lay myself under, how much I hurt
the little interest I have in you, by this air of sadness
so contrary to your nature and present enjoyments :
but sure you will forgive, though you cannot sympa
thize with me. It is impossible with me to dissemble

1 Bonstetten told me, that when he was walking one day
with Gray in a crowded street of the city (about 1769), a large
uncouth figure was polling before them, upon seeing which
Gray exclaimed, with some bitterness, " Look, look, Bonstetten !
the great bear ! There goes Ursa Major .'" This was Johnson :
Gray could not abide him.— [Sir Egerton Brydges.]

372 LETTERS.

with you ; such as I am I expose my heart to your
view, nor wish to conceal a single thought from your
penetrating eyes. All that you say to me, especially
on the subject of Switzerland, is infinitely acceptable.
It feels too pleasing ever to be fulfilled, and as often
as I read over your truly kind letter, written long
since from London, I stop at these words: "La
mort qui peut glacer nos bras avant qu'ils soient
entrelace"es."

CLXIX. — TO THE KEY. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Jermyn Street, May 22, 1770.

DEAR SIR — When I returned to Cambridge I found
a long letter from De Bonstetten expressing much
kindness, but in a style un pen trop alembique, and
yesterday I had another shorter, and making bad
excuses for not writing of tener : he seems at present
to give into all the French nonsense, an<J to be em
ployed much like an English boy, broke loose from
his governor. I want much to know whether he has
wrote to you yet, if not, I am seriously angry, though
to little purpose. A Marquis de Villewelle, who is
here with the French Ambassador, has found me out,
and seems a quiet good sort of young man. He
knows and tries to speak English, and has translated
me by way of exercise. That is our bond of union,
but I have seen no specimen yet. He returns home
soon with Mr. de Chatelet ; but means to return and
acquaint himself better with this country.

LETTERS. 373

On Monday or Tuesday I mean to leave this place,
and, after passing two or three days at Cambridge,
proceed to Aston, where Mason expects me. Now if
you like to accompany me, you will meet me at Cam
bridge, and we pursue our way together, trees bloom
ing and nightingales singing all round us. Let me
know your mind and direct to me at Cambridge.

I have not forgot your microscope, but my Mr.
Ramsden (Mason's favourite) is such a liar and a fool,
that ten to one it is not finished this month or two.
My respects to Mrs. Nicholls ! I hope the sermon is
completed between you. Adieu ! I am faithfully
yours, T. G.

I have got Gruner's book.

CLXX. — TO THE REV. JAMES BROWN.

Jermyn Street, May 22, 1770.

DEAR SIR — I have received two letters from you
with one enclosed from Paris and one from Mason.
I met poor Barber (?) two or three days after the fire
with evident marks of terror in his countenance j he
has moved his quarters (I am told) somewhere into
Gray's-inn-lane, near the fields.

I do not apprehend anything more than usual
from the City Eemonstrance ; and the party princi
pally concerned, I hear, does not in the least regard
it. The conversation you mention in the House of
Lords is very true; it happened about a fortnight

374 LETTEKS.

since; and the Archbishop replied, it was not any
concern of his, as he had received no complaint from
the University on that head. It begins to be doubted
whether Lord Anglesey1 will carry his point, his
witnesses being so very Irish in their understandings
and consciences that they puzzle the cause they came
to prove ; but this cannot be cleared up till another
session. Pa. and I have often visited, but never met.
I saw my Lord and Tom2 the other day at breakfast
in good health; and Lady Maria did not beat me,
but giggled a little. Monsieur de Villervielle has
found me out, and seems a sensible, quiet young man.
He returns soon to France with the ambassador, but
means to revisit England and see it better. I dined
at Hampton Court on Sunday all alone with St. who
inquired after you ; and the next day with the same,
and a good deal of company in town. I have not
seen him so well this long time. I am myself in-

1 This alludes to the disputed Peerage. Arthur, on arriving
at his majority, 1765, took his seat as Lord Valentia, after an
investigation by the Lords of Ireland of nearly four years during
his minority ; his succession to the Irish estates being opposed
by his kinsman, John Annesley, derived from the first Regent
Valentia. When he petitioned for his writ of summons to the
Parliament of Great Britain as Earl of Anglesey, the judgment
was against him. A renewal of the claim again took place in
Ireland, when they came to the same conclusion as before, and
confirmed the claim. So his Lordship enjoyed his Irish honours ;
but the earldom in England was considered as extinct, and the
title of the latter conferred on another family. — [Mit.~\

8 Lord Strathmore and Thomas Lyoii, and Lady Maria Lyon
his wife.

LETTERS. 375

different; the head-ache returns now and then, and
a little grumbling of the gout ; but I mean to see
you on Monday or Tuesday next. Adieu.— I am
ever yours, T Q.

P.S. — Pray is Mrs. Olliffe come to Cambridge ?

CLXXI. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke College, June 24, 1770.

DEAR SIR — I am returned from Aston, and now wait
your commands. My idea is, that we might meet on
the first or second of July at Huntingdon, or at the
"Wheat Sheaf," five miles further on the northern road
(for I do not like to be here at the commencement),
and thence find our way cross by Thrapston into
Warwickshire, so through Worcestershire, Shropshire,
and other of the midland counties, for about three
weeks ; but the particular route and objects we are
to see I leave to be determined on joint consultation.
The "Wheat Sheaf" I only mention as a very good
inn (though a little out of our way), where I possibly
may go, and wait a day or two for you. Send me
word whether it suits you, and precisely tell me the
day you can come. My compliments to Mrs. Nicholls.
I am sincerely yours, T. G.

I wish you a good delivery.

376 LETTEES.

CLXXIL — TO JAMES BEATTIE.

Pembroke Hall, July 2, 1770.

I REJOICE to hear that you are restored to a better
state of health, to your books, and to your muse once
again. That forced dissipation and exercise we are
obliged to fly to as a remedy, when this frail machine
goes wrong, is often almost as bad as the distemper
we would cure ; yet I too have been constrained of
late to pursue a like regimen, on account of certain
pains in the head (a sensation unknown to me before),
and of great dejection of spirits. This, Sir, is the
only excuse I have to make you for my long silence,
and not (as perhaps you may have figured to your
self) any secret reluctance I had to tell you my mind
concerning the specimen you so kindly sent me of
your new Poem.1 On the contrary, if I had seen
anything of importance to disapprove, I should have
hastened to inform you, and never doubted of being
forgiven. The truth is, I greatly like all I have seen,
and wish to see more. The design is simple, and
pregnant with poetical ideas of various kinds, yet
seems somehow imperfect at the end. Why may
not young Edwin, when necessity has driven him to
take up the harp, and assume the profession of a
Minstrel, do some great and singular service to his

1 This letter was written in answer to one that enclosed only
a part of the first book of the Minstrel in manuscript, and I
believe a sketch of Mr. Beattie's plan for the whole. — [Mason.]

LETTERS. 377

country ? (what service I must leave to your inven
tion) such as no General, no Statesman, no Moralist
could do without the aid of music, inspiration, and
poetry. This will not appear an improbability in
those early times, and in a character then held sacred,
and respected by all nations. Besides, it will be a
full answer to all the Hermit has said, when he dis
suaded him from cultivating these pleasing arts ; it
will shew their use, and make the best panegyric of
our favourite and celestial science. And lastly (what
weighs most with me), it will throw more of action,
pathos, and interest into your design, which already
abounds in reflection and sentiment. As to descrip
tion, I have always thought that it made the most
graceful ornament of poetry, but never ought to
make the subject. Your ideas are new, and bor
rowed from a mountainous country, the only one
that can furnish truly picturesque scenery. Some
trifles in the language or versification you will permit
me to remark. . . .l

I will not enter at present into the merits of your
Essay on Truth, because I have not yet given it all the
attention it deserves, though I have read it through
with pleasure ; besides I am partial, for I have always
thought David Hume a pernicious writer, and believe
he has done as much mischief here as he has in his

1 Here followed some verbal suggestions, the exact form of
which has not been preserved, but the tenor of Gray's criti
cism, in detail, may be found in Forbes' Life of Beattie, vol. i.
p. 197, and in the appendix to the same.— \Ed.]

378 LETTERS.

own country. A turbid and shallow stream often
appears to our apprehensions very deep. A professed
sceptic can be guided by nothing but his present
passions (if he has any) and interests; and to be
masters of his philosophy we need not his books or
advice, for every child is capable of the same thing,
without any study at all. Is not that naivett and
good humour, which his admirers celebrate in him,
owing to this, that he has continued all his days an
infant, but one that has unhappily been taught to
read and write*? That childish nation, the French,
have given him vogue and fashion, and we, as usual,
have learned from them to admire him at second
hand.1

1 On a similar subject Mr. Gray expresses himself thus in
a letter to Mr. Walpole, dated March 17, 1771: "He must
have a very good stomach that can digest the Crambe recocta
of Voltaire. Atheism is a vile dish, though all the cooks of
France combine to make new sauces to it. As to the Soul,
perhaps they may have none on the Continent ; but I do think
we have such things in England. Shakespeare, for example,
I believe had several to his own share. As to the Jews (though
they do not eat pork) I like them because they are better
Christians than Voltaire." This was written only three months
before his death ; and I insert it to shew how constant and
uniform he was in his contempt of infidel writers. — [Mason.}

LETTERS. 379

CLXXIII. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

MY DEAR DOCTOR — It happened, that I was in
London at the time, when Stonehewer received your
letter relating to Mr. L.'s request ; as my name was
mentioned in it, I ought to make my excuses to you
as well as he, which it is indeed easy to do, as 1
could by no means ask anything but through him,
and (though this had been in my power) it would
have been a very bad plea to say, " My Ld- you have
done me a very unexpected favour not long since;
and therefore I must beg you to do another, at my
desire, for a friend of mine." But the truth is, at
this time our application could not have had any
success, as our principal would certainly never apply
to three different persons, with whom he has no con
nexion; nor care to be refused, or even obliged by
them. The inside of things cannot be well explained
by letters; but if you saw it, you would immedi
ately see in its full light the impracticability of the
thing.

I am lately returned from a six weeks ramble
through Worcestershire, Gloucestershire, Monmouth
shire, Herefordshire, and Shropshire, five of the most
beautiful counties in the kingdom. The very light
and principal feature in my journey was the river
Wye, which I descended in a boat for near 40 miles,
from Ross to Chepstow : its banks are a succession
of nameless wonders ! one out of many you may see

380 LETTERS.

not ill described by Mr. Whateley, in his Observations
on Gardening1 under the name of the New Weir ; he
has also touched upon two others, Tinterne Abbey,
and Persfield (Mr. Morris's), both of them famous
scenes, and both on the Wye. Monmouth, a town I
never heard mentioned, lies on the same river in a
vale, that is the delight of my eyes, and the very
seat of pleasure. The vale of Abergavenny, Ragland
and Chepstow Castles, Ludlow, Malvern Hills, Hamp
ton Court near Lemster, the Leasowes, Hagley, the
three Cities and their Cathedrals,2 and lastly Oxford
(where I past two days in my return with great satis
faction), are the rest of my acquisitions, and no bad
harvest to my thinking. I have a journal written
by the companion3 of my travels, that serves to recal
and fix the fading images of these things.

1 Observations on Modern Gardening, published by Thomas
Whateley in 1770.— [Ed.]

2 Hereford, Gloucester, Worcester ?— [ Whitaker, MS. note.]

3 Mr. Norton Nicholls. "In the same year" (says Mr.
Gilpin in his Preface to his Observations on the River Wye,
p. iii.) "in which this little journey was made, Mr. Gray made
it likewise ; and hearing that I had put on paper a few remarks
on the scenes, which he had so lately visited, he desired a sight
of them. They were then only in a rude state ; but the hand
some things he said of them to a friend of his, who obligingly
repeated them to me, gave them, I own, some little degree of
credit in my own opinion ; and made me somewhat less appre
hensive in risking them before the public. If this work
afforded any amusement to Mr. Gray, it was the amusement of
a very late period of his life. He saw it in London, about the
beginning of June, 1771 ; and he died, you know, at the end
of the July following. Had he lived, it is possible he might

LETTERS. 381

I desire to hear of your health, and that of your
family. Are Miss Whn- and Miss Peggy quite re
covered ? My respects to Mrs. Wharton and them.
I am ever yours, T. G.

Pembroke College, August 24, 1770.

CLXXIV. — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Cambridge, August 1770.

DEAR MASON — I am very well at present, the usual
effect of my summer expeditions, and much obliged
to you, gentlemen, for your kind inquiry after me, I
have seen Worcestershire, Gloucestershire, Monmouth
shire, Herefordshire, Shropshire — five of the best
counties this kingdom has to produce. The chief
grace and ornament of my journey was the river
Wye, which I descended in a boat from Ross to
Chepstow (near forty miles), surrounded with ever-
new delights ; among which were the New Weir (see
Whateley), Tintern Abbey, and Persfield. I say
nothing of the Vale of Abergavenny, Ragland Castle,
Ludlow, Malvern Hills, the Leasowes, and Hagley,
etc., nor how I passed two days at Oxford very
agreeably. The weather was very hot, and gener-

have been induced to have assisted me with a few of his own
remarks on scenes which he had so accurately examined ; the
slightest touches of such a master would have had their effect.
No man was a greater admirer of nature than Mr. Gray, nor
admired it with better taste." — [Alit.]

382 LETTERS.

ally serene. I envy not your Greffiers,1 nor your
Wensley-dale and Aisgarth Forces ; but did you see
Winander-mere and Grass-mere? Did you get to
Keswick, and what do you think of the matter 1 I
stayed a fortnight stewing in London, and now am
in the midst of this dead quiet, with nobody but
Mr. President near me, and he "is not dead, but
sleepeth."

The politics of the place are that Bishop "War-
burton will chouse Bishop Keene out of Ely by the
help of Lord Mansfield, who can be refused nothing
at present. Every one is frightened except Tom
Neville.

Palgrave, I suppose, is at Mr. Weddell's, and has
told you the strange casualties of his household.
Adieu. — I am ever yours, T. G.

The letter in question was duly received.

CLXXV. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

September 14, 1770.

DEAR SIR — Venga, venga, V. S. si serva ! .1 shall
be proud to see you both. The lodgings over the
way will be empty ; but such a staircase ! how will
Mrs. Nicholls be able to crowd through it ? with what
grace, when she gets out of her chair, can she conduct
her hoop petticoat through this auger-hole, and up

1 His allusion to Greffiers or registrars must refer to some
passage in a letter of Mason's which is wanting. — [Mit.]

LETTERS. 383

the dark windings of the grand escalier that leads to
her chamber 1 it is past my finding out. So I delay,
till I hear from you again, before I engage them. I
believe there may be a bed for you, but is there room
for Mrs. Kipiffe, mamma's maid 1 I am sure I know not.

I was very ill when I received your letter, with a
feverish disorder, but have cured it merely by dint of
sage-tea, the beverage of life. It is a polydynamious
plant, take my word; though your Linnaeus would
persuade us it is merely diandrious. I applaud your
industry ; it will do you a power of good one way or
other, only do not mistake a Carabus for an Orchis, nor
a Lepisma for an Adenanthera. Here is Mr. Foljambe,
has got a flying hobgoblin from the East Indies, and
a power of rarities, and then he has given me such a
phalaena,1 with looking glasses in its wings, and a
queen of the white ants, whose belly alone is as big
as many hundred of her subjects, I do not mean their
bellies only, but their whole persons ; and yet her
head and her tetons and her legs are no bigger than
other people's. Oh, she is a jewel of a pismire !

I hear the triumphs and see the illuminations of
Alloa hither. But did Mrs. E. lie a night at Edin
burgh in her way thither ? Does she meet with no
signs of mortality about her castle ? Are her subjects
all civet-cats and musk-deer 1

1 Mr. John Murray, in one of the MS. books by Gray with a
sight of which he has obliged me, possesses a minute description
of this ." jewel of a pismire," which shews how acute and scien
tific were the poet's observations of natural history.— [Ed.]

384 LETTERS.

My respects to your mother. Adieu ! I have had
an infinite letter from Bonstetten, he goes in October
to Rocheguion on the Loire, with the Duchess d'En-
ville. The people in several provinces are starving
to death on the highways. The King (in spite to his
parliaments and nation), it is thought, will make the
Duke d'Aiguillon his chief minister. T. G.

CLXXVL — TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke Hall, October 24, 1770.

DEAR MASON — I have been for these three weeks
and more confined to my room by a fit of the gout,
and am now only beginning to walk alone again. I
should not mention the thing, but that I am well
persuaded it will soon be your own case, as you have
so soon laid aside your horse, and talk, so relishingly
of your old port.

I cannot see any objection to your design for Mr.
Pierce. As to Wilson1 we know him much alike.
He seems a good honest lad ; and I believe is scholar
enough for your purpose. Perhaps this connection
may make (or mar) his fortune. Our friend Foljambe
has resided in college, and persevered in the ways of
godliness till about ten days ago, when he disappeared,
and no one knows whether he is gone a hunting or a
. . . The little Fitzherbert2 is come a pensioner to
St. John's, and seems to have all his wits about him.

1 Thomas Wilson, elected Fellow of Pembroke in 1767 ; be
came vicar of Soham, 1769 ; died, 1797.

2 The little Fitzherbert was afterwards Lord St. Helen's :

LETTERS. 385

Your eleve Lord Richard Cavendish, having digested
all the learning and all the beef this place could afford
him in a two months' residence, is about to leave us,
and his little brother George1 succeeds him. Bishop
Keene has brought a son from Eton to Peterhouse ;
and Dr. Heberden2 another to St. John's, who is

he took a high degree in 1774. Of the visit which Gray paid
to him on the occasion, Lord St. Helen's gave an account
to Mr. Samuel Rogers, which he has allowed me to tran
scribe from his own words : — "I came to St. John's College,
Cambridge, in 1770, and that year received a visit from Gray,
having a letter of introduction to him. He was accom
panied by Dr. Gisborne, Mr. Stonhewer, and Mr. Palgrave,
and they walked one after one, in Indian file. When they
withdrew, every college man took off his cap as he passed,
a considerable number having assembled in the quadrangle to
see Mr. Gray, who was seldom seen. I asked Mr. Gray, to
the great dismay of his companions, what he thought of Mr.
Garrick's Jubilee Ode, just published? He answered, 'He
was easily pleased. ' " Lord St. Helen's was Minister for
some time at the Court of St. Petersburg, and could recol
lect in after-life and repeat some interesting anecdotes of the
Empress Catherine. He resided and I believe died in Albe-
marle Street. Mr. Rogers often speaks of the pleasure he had
in his acquaintance, of his visits to Lord St. Helen's house,
and of his agreeable and enlightened conversation. In his last
illness— moriens legavit— he presented to Mr. Rogers, Pope's
own copy of Garth's Dispensary, enriched with the MS. anno
tations of the younger poet, in his early print-hand. The Ode
of Garrick was " An Ode on dedicating a building, or erecting a
statue, to Shakspere at Stratford-upon-Avon, by D. G.," 1769,
4to, and it is bad enough ! — [Mit.]

1 Lord George Augustus Henry Cavendish (1754-1834) ; he
was the last survivor of persons who had known Gray.— [Ed.}

2 Dr. William Heberden, formerly Fellow of St. John's
College, Cambridge, died in his 91st year in May 1801, being
then Senior Fellow of the College of Physicians.— [Ed. ]

VOL. III. 2 C

386 LETTERS.

entered pensioner, and destined to the Church. This
is all my university news ; but why do I tell you ?
come yourself and see, for I hope you remember your
promise at Aston, and will take us in your way as
you go to your town residence.

You have seen Stonhewer, I imagine, who went
northwards on Saturday last ; pray tell me how he is,
for I think him not quite well. Tell me this, and
tell me when I may expect to see you here. — I am
ever yours, T. G.

CLXXVIL — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

November 25, 1770.

I DO not see why you should suppose that you only
are to have the privilege of being ill. For me, from
the time you left me (till within these three days) I
have been only one day out of the walls of this college.
That day was employed in going to the hills by way
of airing after the gout, and in catching such a cold
and cough as has given me no rest night or day, and
has only now taken its leave of me. I sent away
your letter to Bonstetten directly : I saw no reason
against it. He was then at Aubonne, near Geneva,
with his brother, and is now at Berne. The picture
is not arrived, nor (I suppose) ever will ; though he
says he has sent it, but by what conveyance or by
what hand he does not say.

You do me wrong : I have thought very frequently
of you, especially since Sir A. Allin's death. I am

LETTERS. 387

rather glad his family were about him, though I know
not well why, for he perhaps was insensible to it.
These sort of deaths are alarming to the spectator ;
but perhaps the best for the sufferer. I have now
every day before my eyes a woman of ninety, my
aunt, who has for many years been gradually turning
into chalk - stones ; they are making their way out
of the joints of both feet, and the surgeon twice a
day comes to increase the torture. She is just as
sensible and as impatient of pain, and as intractable,
as she was at sixty years ago. She thinks not at all
of death, and if a mortification does not come to
release her, may lie in this agony for months (at
least), helpless and bed-rid. This is what you call a
natural death !

It is well you live in a dry country, but do not
your lakes overflow? Can anything get from Nor
wich to Blundeston? Two hundred thousand acres
are drowned in the Fens here, and cattle innumerable.
Our friends at Worcester, Gloucester, etc., are sailing
through the street from house to house. Adieu!
The post is impatient. My respects to Mrs. Nicholls.
— I am faithfully yours, T. G.

CLXXVIII.— TO THE REV. WILLIAM COLE.

How did we know, pray 1 nobody here remembered
another burying of the kind.1 Shall be proud of your

i The funeral of Roger Long, Master of Pembroke Hall, who
died December 16, 1770, aged 91.

388 LETTERS.

advice the next opportunity, which we hope will be
some forty years hence. I am sorry you would not
send for me last night. I shall not be able to wait on
you chez vous as soon as I could wish, for I go in a
few days to town, when I shall see Mr. Walpole.
Adieu ! at my return we shall meet.
Saturday, 22d December 1770.

CLXXIX. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke College, January 26, 1771.
DEAR SIR — I want to know a hundred things about
yon. Are you fixed in your house, for I hear many
vague reports of Miss Allin's inclination to part with
the estate, and that the Loves are desirous of the
purchase, and would bid high? what part of the
mansion (where I used to tremble at a breath of air)
was blown down in the high wind ? did not you bless
your stars for that dreary flat that lay between you
and Gorton, and barred all sight of the sea in its fury,
and of the numberless wrecks that strewed all your
coast ? as to our little and unpicturesque events, you
know them, I find, and have congratulated Mr.
President,1 who is now our master, in due form ; but
you do not know that it never rains but it pours : he
goes to town on Monday for institution to the living
of Streath-ham, in the Isle of Ely, worth from two to
three hundred pound a year, and given him by the
king's majesty. The detail is infinite, the attacks,
1 James Brown.

LETTERS. 389

the defences, the evasions, the circumventions, the
sacrifices, the perjuries, are only to be told by word
of mouth ; suffice it to say that it is carried swimmingly
and triumphantly against two lords temporal and one
spiritual, who solicited for their several proteges in
vain ; so our good uncle Toby will have about four
hundred pounds a year, no uncomfortable pittance ! I
have had several capricious letters from Berne. He
has sent me some pretty views of his native country
and its inhabitants. The portrait too is arrived, done
at Paris, but no more like, than I to Hercules : you
would think it was intended for his father, so grave
and so composed : doubtless he meant to look like an
Englishman or an owl. Pray send me the letter, and
do not suppose I grudge postage.

I rejoice you have met with Froissart : he is the
Herodotus of a barbarous age : had he but had the
luck of writing in as good a language, he might have
been immortal ! his locomotive disposition (for then
there was no other way of learning things), his simple
curiosity, his religious credulity, were much like those
of the old Grecian. Our ancestors used to read the
Mort d' Arthur, Amadis de Gaul, and 'Froissart, all alike,
that is, they no more suspected the good faith of the
former than they did of the latter, but took it all for
history. When you have tant chevauch6 as to get to
the end of him, there is Monstrelet waits to take you
up, and will set you down at Philip de Comines ; but
previous to all these, you should have read Villehar-
douin and Joinville. I do not think myself bound

390 LETTERS.

to defend the character of even the best of kings.
Pray slash them, and spare not. My best compliments
to Mrs. Nicholls. I am very sincerely yours,

T. G.

Your friend Mr. Crofts has just left me. He is a
candidate for the University, and will succeed in the
room of De Grey, now Chief Justice of the Common
Pleas.

CLXXX. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

Pembroke College, February 2, 1771.
IT never rains, but it pours, my dear Doctor, you will
be glad to hear, that Mr. Brown has added to his
mastersliip (which is better than £150 a year) a living
hard by Cambridge, Stretham in the isle of Ely,
worth, as it was let above forty years ago, at least
£240 more. It was in the gift of the crown during
the vacancy of the See of Ely, and that its value is
really more than I have said, you will hardly doubt,
when you hear it was carried against an Earl, a Baron,
and a Bishop, the latter of the three so strenuous a
suitor, that he still persisted above a week after I had
seen the presentation signed to Mr. Brown by the
King's own hand, nay, he still persisted a day, after
the King had publicly declared in the Drawing-room,
that he had given it Mr. Brown by name. And who
was this bishop? no other than your friend, who
wanted it for a nephew of his, a poor unfortunate
nephew, that had been so imprudent many a year

LETTERS. 391

ago to marry a farmer's daughter, where he boarded,
when Curate ; and continued ever since under a cloud,
because his uncle would give him nothing. As to us,
we had a Duke, an Earl, a Viscount, and a Bishop, on
our side, and carried it so swimmingly you would stare
again. There was a prologue and an exegesis and a
peripeteia, and all the parts of a regular drama ; and
the Hero is gone to London, was instituted yesterday,
and to-day is gone to Lambeth, for the Archbishop
too spoke a good word for us and at a very critical
time. The old Lodge has got rid of all its harp
sichords, and begins to brighten up : its inhabitant is
lost like a mouse in an old cheese. He has received
your generous offer of a benefaction to the common
good, but it is too much to tax yourself : however we
all intend to bring in our mites, and shew the way to
the high and mighty : when a fund is once on foot,
they will bestir themselves.

I am sincerely concerned to find Miss Wharton is
still an invalid. I believe, you must send her into
the milder regions of the South, where the sun dispels
all maladies. We ourselves have had an untoward
season enough: vast quantities of rain instead of
winter, the thermometer never below 40 degrees,
often above 50, before Christmas ; unusual high winds
(which still continue), particularly the 19th of Decem
ber at night it blew a dreadful storm. The first grain
of snow was seen on Christmas day, of which we have
had a good deal since, but never deep or lasting.
The second week in January was really severe cold

392 LETTERS.

at London, and the Thames frozen over. One morn
ing that week the glass stood here (at eight in the
morning) at 16 degrees, which is the lowest I ever
knew it at Cambridge. At London it never has been
observed lower than 13 (understand me right. I
mean, 13 above Zero of Fahrenheit), and that was 5th
January 1739. Now it is very mild again, but with
very high winds at N.W.

I give you joy of our awkward peace with Spain.
Mason is in town taking his swing, like a boy in
breaking -up time. Remember me kindly to Mrs.
Wharton, and all the good family. Did I tell you of
my breaking-up, in Summer, in the midland counties,
and so as far as Abergavenny one way, and Ludlow the
other 1 I have another journal for you, in several
volumes. I have had a cough for above three months
upon me, which is incurable. Adieu! — I am ever
yours, T. G.

CLXXXI.— TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

February 24, 1771.

DEAR SIR — Your friend Jean Froissart, son of Thomas,
by profession a herald painter, was born at Valen
ciennes in Hainault, about the year 1337, was by
nature fond of every noble diversion, as hunting,
hawking, dress, good cheer, wine, and women (this
latter passion commenced at twelve years old), and
was in his own time no less distinguished by his
gallant poesies (still preserved in MSS.) than by his

LETTERS. 393

historical writings, which he began at the desire of
Robert de Namur, Seigneur de Beaufort, when he was
barely twenty years of age. At twenty-four he made
his first voyage into England, and presented the first
part of his history to Edward the Third's Queen,
Philippa of Hainault, who appointed him clerk of her
chamber, that is, secretary, by which he became one
of the household in that court. After the death of
this Queen in 1369, he had the living of Lessines in
his own country given him, and must then conse
quently be a priest. He attached himself to Wen-
ceslaus of Luxemburg, Duke of Brabant, who dying
in 1384, he became clerk of the chapel to Guy, Comte
de Blois, who probably gave him a canonry in the
collegiate church of Chimay, near Marienbourg, in
the county of Hainault ; he also had obtained of the
Pope a reversion of another canonry in the church of
Lisle, but of this he never could get possession.
After twenty-seven years absence from England he
made a third voyage thither in 1395, and stayed in it
only three months. His patron, Guy de Blois, died
in 1397, and Froissart survived him certainly four
years, but how much more is uncertain. These and
many more particulars are taken from the account of
his life and writings, collected by Monsieur de la
Curne de St. Palaye, in ten tome of the Mem. de
I'Acad. des Inscript., etc., where you may see much
more about him. The same author defends hirn
strongly against the suspicions that have been enter
tained of his partiality to the English nation.

394 LETTERS.

A man-at-arms was a complicated machine con
sisting of about seven men, i.e. the knight or gentle
man himself completely and heavily armed, and
mounted on his great war-horse, caparisoned and
armed as strongly as the rider: the rest were his
esquires, rather meant to assist him and watch his
motions in the combat, than to engage in action them
selves. All of them were (as I apprehend) on horse
back, and thus, taken together, made the principal
strength and principal expence of armies in those days.
Ecuyers were the sons of gentlemen, trained up in
quality of pages till twelve years old (commonly not
in their father's castle, but in that of some famous
knight, his friend), after which age they assumed the
title of esquires, were exercised daily in feats of arms
and courtesy, attended the person of their lord at
home and abroad, and at twenty-one, were qualified
to receive themselves the order of knighthood. Read
the same St. Palaye's Mem. de I'Ancienne Chevalerie, 2
vol. 8vo, 1759, Paris. If you would have me say any
thing to F. you must remind me, what period of time
he inquired about, for my memory fails me.

You may be sure of a month's notice from me if
I undertake the voyage, which seerns to me next to
impossible. I received a letter from Bonstetten last
night, which mentions you kindly, and seems very
desirous we should come this summer. What you
mention of herrings I know not : I have never seen
or heard of them.

Monstrelet reaches from A.D. 1400 to 1467, and

LETTERS. 395

there are additions at the end of him that come down
to 1516; it is a splendid and very substantial folio,
published in 1572. Adieu! My respects to Mrs.
Nicholls. T. G.

CLXXXII.— TO JAMES BEATTIE.

Cambridge, March 8, 1771.

THE Minstrel came safe to my hands, and I return
you my sincere thanks for so acceptable a present.
In return, I shall give you my undisguised opinion of
him, as he proceeds, without considering to whom he
owes his birth, and sometimes without specifying my
reasons ; either because they would lead me too far,
or because I may not always know what they are
myself.

I think we should wholly adopt the language of
Spenser's time, or wholly renounce it. You say, you
have done the latter ; but, in effect, you retain fared,
forth, meed, wight, ween, gaude, shene, in sooth, aye,
eschew, etc. ; obsolete words, at least in these parts of
the island, and only known to those that read our
ancient authors, or such as imitate them.1

St. 2, v. 5. The obstreperous trump of fame hurts
my ear, though meant to express a jarring sound.

1 To fare, i.e. to go, is used in Pope's Odyssey, and so is meed;
wifjht (in a serious sense) is used by Milton and Dryden. Ween
is used by Milton ; gaude by Dryden ; shene by Milton ; eschew
by Atterbury ; aye by Milton. The poetical style in every
nation (where there is a poetical style) abounds in old words.—
[Seattie.]

396 LETTERS.

St. 3, v. 6. And from his bending, etc., the gram
mar seems deficient ; yet as the mind easily fills up
the ellipsis, perhaps it is an atticism, and not in
elegant.

St. 4, and ult. Pensions, posts, and praise. I cannot
reconcile myself to this, nor to the whole following
stanza ; especially the, plaister of thy hair.1

Surely the female heart, etc., St. 6. The thought is
not just. We cannot justify the sex from the conduct
of the Muses, who are only females by the help of
Greek mythology ; and then, again, how should they
bow the knee in the fane of a Hebrew or Philistine
devil ? Besides, I am the more severe, because it
serves to introduce what I most admire.2

St. 7. Rise, sons of harmony, etc. This is charming ;
the thought and the expression. I will not be so
hypercritical as to add, but it is lyrical, and therefore
belongs to a different species of poetry. Rules are
but chains, good for little, except when one can break
through them; and what is fine gives me so much
pleasure, that I never regard what place it is in.

St. 8, 9, 10. All this thought is well and freely
handled, particularly, Here peaceful are the vales, etc.
Know thine own worth, etc. Canst thou forego, etc.

1 I did not intend a poem uniformly epical and solemn ; but
one rather that might be lyrical, or even satirical, upon occasion.
— [Seattle.]

2 I meant here an ironical argument. Perhaps, however, the
irony is wrong placed. Mammon has now come to signify
wealth or riches, without any regard to its original meaning. —
[Seattle.]

LETTERS. 397

St. 11. 0, how canst thou renounce, etc. But this,
of all others, is my favourite stanza. It is true poetry;
it is inspiration ; only (to shew it is mortal) there is
one blemish ; the word garniture suggesting an idea
of dress, and, what is worse, of French dress.1

St. 12. Very well. Prompting tti ungenerous wish,
etc. But do not say rambling muse; wandering, or
devious, if you please.2

St. 13. A nation fam'd, etc. I like this compli
ment to your country ; the simplicity, too, of the
following narrative; only in st. 17 the words artless
and simple are too synonymous to come so near each
other.

St. 18. And yet poor Edwin, etc. This is all ex
cellent, and comes very near the level of st. 11 in my
esteem; only, perhaps, And some believed him mad,
falls a little too flat, and rather below simplicity.

St. 21. Ah, no! By the way, this sort of inter
jection is rather too frequent with you, and will grow
characteristic, if you do not avoid it.

In that part of the poem which you sent me
before, you have altered several little particulars
much for the better.3

St. 34. I believe I took notice before of this excess

1 I have often wished to alter this same word, but have not
yet been able to hit upon a better. — [Seattle.]

2 Wandering happens to be in the last line of the next
stanza save one, otherwise it would certainly have been here. —
[BeaMe.]

3 I had sent Mr. Gray from st. 23 to st. 39 by way of speci
men.— [Seattle.]

398 LETTERS.

of alliteration. Long, loaded, loud, lament, lonely,
lighted, lingering, listening ; though the verses are
otherwise very good, it looks like affectation.1

St. 36, 37, 38. Sure you go too far in lengthening
a stroke of Edwin's character and disposition into a
direct narrative, as of a fact. In the meantime, the
poem stands still, and the reader grows impatient.
Do you not, in general, indulge a little too much in
description and reflection? This is not my remark
only, I have heard it observed by others ; and I take
notice of it here, because these are among the stanzas
that might be spared; they are good, nevertheless,
and might be laid by, and employed elsewhere to
advantage.2

St. 42. Spite of what I have just now said, this
digression pleases me so well, that I cannot spare it.

St. 46, v. ult. The infuriate flood. I would not

1 It does so, and yet it is not affected. I have endeavoured
once and again" to clear this passage of those obnoxious letters,
but I never could please myself. Alliteration has great autho
rities on its side, but I would never seek for it ; nay, except on
some very particular occasions, I would rather avoid it. When
Mr. Gray, once before, told me of my propensity to alliteration,
I repeated to him one of his own lines, which is indeed one of
the finest in poetry —

Nor cast one longing lingering look behind.

[Beattie.]

2 This remark is perfectly just. All I can say is, that I meant,
from the beginning, to take some latitude in the composition
of this poem, and not confine myself to the epical rules for
narrative. In an epic poem these digressions and reflections,
etc., would be unpardonable. — [Beattie.]

LETTERS. 399

make new words without great necessity ; it is very
hazardous at best.1

St. 49, 50, 51, 52. All this is very good; but
medium and incongruous, being words of art, lose their
dignity in my eyes, and savour too much of prose.
I would have read the last line — " Presumptuous
child of dust, be humble and be wise." But, on second
thoughts, perhaps — "For tliou art but of dust" — is
better and more solemn, from its simplicity.

St. 53. Where dark, etc. You return again to the
charge. Had you not said enough before ? 2

St. 54. Nor was this ancient dame, etc. Consider,
she has not been mentioned for these six stanzas
backward.

St. 56, v. 5. The vernal day. With us it rarely
thunders in the spring, but in the summer fre
quently.3

St. 57, 58. Very pleasing, and has much the
rhythm and expression of Milton in his youth. The
last four lines strike me less by far.

St. 59. The first five lines charming. Might not

1 I would as soon make new coin, as knowingly make a new
word, except I were to invent any art or science where they
would be necessary. Infuriate is used by Thomson, Summer,
1096 ; and, which is much better authority, by Milton, Par.
Lost, book vi. v. 487. — [Seattle.] By twenty people ; Gray was
a merciless critic. — [MS. note by Mrs. Thrale.]

2 What I said before referred only to sophists perverting the
truth ; this alludes to the method by which they pervert it —
[Beattie.]

3 It sometimes thunders in the latter part of spring. Sultry
day would be an improvement perhaps. — [JSeattie.]

400 LETTERS.

the mind of your conqueror be checked and softened
in the mid-career of his successes by some domestic
misfortune (introduced by way of episode, interesting
and new, but not too long), that Edwin's music and
its triumphs may be a little prepared, and more con
sistent with probability I1

I am happy to hear of your successes in another
way, because I think you are serving the cause of
human nature, and the true interest of mankind.
Your book is read here too, and with just applause.2

CLXXXIII.— TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Pembroke College, May 3, 1771.

DEAR SIR — I cannot tell you what I do not know
myself, nor did I know you staid for my determina
tion to answer Bonstetten's letter. I am glad to hear
you say you shall go at all events, because then it is
sure I shall not disappoint you ; and if (which I
surely wish) I should be able to accompany you,
perhaps I may prevail upon you to stay a week or
fortnight for me : if I find it will not do, you cer
tainly shall know it.

Three days ago I had so strange a letter from Bon-
stetten I hardly know how to give you any account

1 This is an excellent hint ; it refers to something I had been
saying in my last letter to Mr. Gray, respecting the plan of
what remains of the Minstrel.— [Bcattic.]

2 Air. Gray has been very particular. I am greatly obliged
to him for the freedom of his remarks, and think myself as
much so for his objections as for his commendations.— [IfcaUie.']

LETTERS. 401

of it, and desire you would not speak of it to anybody.
That he has been le plus malheureux des hommes,
that he is decide a quitter son pays, that is, to pass
the next winter in England, that he cannot bear la
morgue de 1'aristocratie, et 1'orgueil arme" des loix, in
short, strong expressions of uneasiness and confusion
of mind, so much as to talk of un pistolet and du
courage, and all without the shadow of a reason
assigned, and so he leaves me. He is either dis
ordered in his intellect (which is too possible), or has
done some strange thing that has exasperated his
whole family and friends at home, which (I'm afraid)
is at least equally possible. I am quite at a loss
about it. You will see and know more ; but by all
means curb these vagaries and wandering imagina
tions, if there be any room for counsels.

You aggravate my misfortunes by twitting me with
Temple, as if a pack of names of books and editions
were any cure for his uneasiness, and that I withheld
it from him. I have had neither health nor spirits
all the winter, and never knew or cared what weather
it was before. The spring is begun here, swallows
were seen 23d April, the redstart on the 26th, the
nightingale was heard on the 29th, and the cuckoo
on the 1st of May. Methiuks I could wish that
Wheeler went with you, whether I do or not ! Adieu !
— I am truly yours, T. G.

VOL. in.

402 LETTERS.

CLXXXIV. — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

London, at Frisby's, Jermyn Street,
May 20, 1771.

I RECEIVED your letter enclosing that of poor Temple
the night before I set out for London. I would by
all means wish you to comply with his request. You
may say many things to Lord Lisburne with a better
grace than he can. I trust to the cause and to the
warmth of your own kindness for inspiration ; there
is little of management required, nothing to conceal
but the full persuasion (I trust) we both have, that
Lord Lisburne knows the distress of his circumstances
at least as well as we do. This doubtless must be
kept out of sight, lest it carry too keen a reproach
with it. In all the rest you are at full liberty to
expatiate on his good qualities, the friendship you
have long had for him, the pious imprudence that
has produced his present uneasy situation, and, above
all, your profound respect for Lord Lisburne's char
acter and sensibility of heart. Who knows what
may be the consequence 1 Men sometimes catch that
feeling from a stranger, which should have originally
sprung from their own heart. As to the means of
helping him, his own schemes are perhaps too wild
for you to mention them to Lord Lisburne, and (if
they are to separate him from his wife and family)
what is to come of them in the meantime 1 I have a
notion that the chaplainship at Leghorn is still vacant

LETTERS. 403

by the death of a young Mr. Byron : at least I have
never heard it was filled up. It depends on recom
mendation to the principal Italian merchants, which
seems much in Lord Lisburne's power. The Bishop
of Derry (I apprehend) is at Nice, or somewhere in
Italy, for his health : it is true he has a great patron
age in Ireland, and sometimes (from vanity) may do
a right thing. The other projects do not strike me
as anything, but (if Lord Lisburne can be brought to
mean him well) many different means will occur, by
which he may serve him.

I shall pass a fortnight here, and, perhaps, within
that time may see you in town, at least I would wish
so to do. I am but indifferently well, and think, all
things considered, it is best not to keep you in sus
pense about my journey. The sense of my own duty,
which I do not perform, my own low spirits (to which
this consideration not a little contributes) and (added
to these) a bodily indisposition make it necessary for
me to deny myself that pleasure, which perhaps I
have kept too long in view. I shall see, however,
with your eyes, and accompany you at least in idea.
Write or come, or both soon. I am ever yours sin
cerely, T. G.

My respects to Mrs. Nicholls. Clarke (I hear) is
in town at Claxton's.

404 LE'JTERS.

CLXXXV. — TO THOMAS WHARTON.

DEAR DOCTOR — I was really far from well in health,
when I received your last letter : since that I am
come to town and find myself considerably better.
Mason has passed all the winter here with Stone-
hewer in Curzon Street, May- fair, but thinks of re
turning homeward in a week or ten days. He had
your letter (which had gone round by Aston) and
was applying to Mr. Fraser and others for proper
recommendations in case poor Mrs. E[ttrick] should
be obliged to make use of them : but now you have
given us some hopes, that these expedients may not
be necessary. I for my own part do heartily wish,
you may not be deceived, and that so cool a tyrant
as her husband seems to be, may willingly give up
the thoughts of exercising that tyranny, when it is
most in his power : but, I own, it seems to me very
unlikely. However I would not have you instrumental
(but at her most earnest entreaty) in sending her out
of his reach. No persuasion or advice on this head
should come from you : it should be absolutely her
own firm resolution (before sure witnesses) for that
is the only thing, that can authorise you to assist her.
It must have been her own fault (at least her weak
ness) that such a decision as that of these delegates
could find any grounds to go upon. I do not wonder,
that such an event has discomposed you : it discom-

LETTERS. 405

posed me to think of the trouble and expense it has
brought on you !

My summer was intended to have been passed in
Switzerland : but I have dropped the thought of it,
and believe my expeditions will terminate in Old
Park : for travel I must, or cease to exist. Till this
year I hardly knew what (mechanical) low spirits
were : but now I even tremble at an East-wind. It
is here the height of Summer, but with all the
bloom and tender verdure of Spring. At Cambridge
the laurustines and arbutus killed totally: apricots,
almonds, and figs lost all their young shoots. Stone-
hewer has had a melancholy journey : to-morrow we
expect him here. Adieu ! I am ever yours,

T. G.

At Frisby's, in Jermyn Street, St. James's,
May 24, 1771.

CLXXXVI/ — TO THE REV. NORTON NICHOLLS.

Jermyn Street, June 28, 1771.

DEAR SIR — The enclosed came a few days after you
left us, as I apprehend, from Temple. I continue
here much against my will. The gout is gone, the
feverish disorder abated, but not cured ; my spirits
much oppressed, and the more so as I foresee a new
complaint, that may tie me down perhaps to my bed,
and expose me to the operations of a surgeon. God
knows what will be the end of it.

It will be an alleviation to my miseries if I can

406 LETTEKS.

hear you are well, and capable of enjoying those
objects of curiosity, that the countries you are in
promise to afford you : the greater the detail you
give me of them the happier I shall be. Mr. Clarke
called on me yesterday, and desires to be remembered.
I know nothing new here, but that Mr. T. Pitt is
going to be married to a Miss Wilkinson, the daughter
of a rich merchant, who gives her thirty thousand
pounds down, and at least as much more in expecta
tion. Adieu ! I am faithfully yours, T. G.

Wilkes is like to lose his election.1

1 But at the close of the poll, on the 1st of July, he stood
at the head of it by a very large majority. — [Ed.]

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