I write this from Windfor Forest, of which I am come to take my last look. We here bid our neighbours adieu, much as those who go to be hang'd do their fellow-prifoners, who are condemn'd to follow them a few weeks after. I parted from honest Mr. D* with tenderness; and from old Sir William Trumbull as from a venerable prophet, foretelling with lifted hands the miferies to come, from which he is just going to be remov'd himself. Perhaps, now I have learnt fo far as Nos dulcia linquimus arva, My next leffon may be Nos Patriam fugimus Let that, and all elfe be as Heaven pleases! I have provided just enough to keep me a man of honour. I believe you and I shall never be asham'd of each other. I know I wish my Country well, and if it undoes me, it shall not make me wish it otherwise. LETTER XCI. June 22, 1716. Fa regard both to publick and private affairs may plead a lawful excufe in behalf of a negligent correfpondent, I have really a very good title to it. I cannot fay whether 'tis a felicity or unhappiness, that I am obliged at this time to give up my whole application to Homer; when without that employment, my thoughts must turn upon what is lefs agreeable, the violence, madnefs and refentment of modern War-makers, which are likely to * * This was written in the year of the affair of Preston. prove (to fome people at least) more fatal, than the fame qualities in Achilles did to his unfortunate country-men. Tho' the change of my scene of life, from Windfor foreft to the fide of the Thames, be one of the grand Æra's of my days, and may be called a notable period in fo inconfiderable a history; yet you can fcarce imagine any hero paffing from one ftage of life to another, with so much tranquility, so easy a tranfition, and fo laudable a behaviour. I am become fo truly a citizen of the world (according to Plato's expreffion) that I look with equal indifference on what I have loft, and on what I have gained. The times and amusements paft are not more like a dream to me, than those which are present: I lie in a refreshing kind of inaction, and have one comfort at least from obfcurity, that the darkness helps me to sleep the better. I now and then reflect upon the enjoyment of my friends, whom I fancy I remember much as separate spirits do us, at tender intervals, neither interrupting their own employments, nor altogether careless of ours, but in general conftantly wishing us well, and hoping to have us one day in their company. To grow indifferent to the world is to grow philofophical, or religious (which-foever of those turns we chance to take) and indeed the world is fuch a thing, as one that thinks pretty much, muft either laugh at, or be angry with: but if we laugh at it, they fay we are proud; and if we are angry with it, they say we are ill-natur'd. So the most politick way is to seem always better pleas'd than one can be, greater admirers, greater lovers, and in fhort greater fools, than we really are: fo fhall we live comfortably with our families, quietly with our neighbours, favour'd by our mafters, and happy with our mistreffes. I have fill'd my paper, and fo adieu. LET I LETTER XCII. Sept. 8 1717. Think your leaving England was like a good man's leaving the world, with the bleffed confcience of having acted well in it: and I hope you have received your reward, in being happy where you are. I believe, in the religious country you inhabit, you'll be better pleas'd to find I confider you in this light, than if I compared you to those Greeks and Romans, whofe conftancy in fuffering pain, and whofe refolution in purfuit of a generous end, you would rather imitate than boast of. But I had a melancholy hint the other day, as if you were yet a martyr to the fatigue your virtue made you undergo on this fide the water. I beg if your health be reftor❜d to you not to deny me the joy of knowing it. Your endeavours of service and good advice to the poor papifts, put me in mind of Noah's preaching forty years to those folks that were to be drowned at laft. At the worst I heartily wish your Ark may find an Arrarat, and your wife and family, (the hopes of the good patriarch) land fafely after the deluge, upon the fhore of Totnefs. If I durft mix prophane with facred history, I would comfort you with the old tale of Brutus the wandring Trojan, who found on that very coaft the happy end of his peregrinations and adventures: For I have been lately reading Jeffery of Monmouth (to whom your Cornwall is not a little beholden) in the tranflation of a clergyman in my neighbourhood. He wanted my help to verfify the prayer of Brutus, made when he was much in our circumftances, enquiring in what land to fet up his feat, and worship like: his fathers? Goddefs of Woods, tremendous in the chace, Wide o'er th' aerial Vault extends thy fway, The poor man is highly concerned to vindicate Jeffery's veracity as an hiftorian; and told me he was perfectly aftonished, we of the Roman communion could doubt of the legends of his Giants, while we believ'd thofe of cur Saints? I am forc'd to make a fair compofition with him; and, by crediting fome of the wonders of Corinæus and Gogmagog, have brought him so far already, that he speaks refpectfully of St. Chriftopher's carrying Christ, and the refufcitation of St. Nicholas Tolentine's chickens. Thus we proceed apace in converting each other from all manner of infidelity. Ajax and Hector are no more, compared to Corinæus and Arthur, than the Guelphs and Ghibellines were to the Mohocks of ever dreadful memory. This amazing writer has made me lay afide Homer for a week, and when I take him up again I shall be very well prepared to tranflate, with belief and reverence, the fpeech of Achilles's Horse. You'll excufe all this trifling, or any thing else which prevents a fheet full of compliment: and believe there is nothing more true (even more true than any thing in Jeffery is false) than that I have a conftant affection for you, and am, &c. P.S. I know you will take part in rejoycing for the victory of Prince Eugene over the Turks, in the zeal you bear to the Chriftian intereft, tho' your Coufin of Oxford (with whom I dined yefterday) fays, there is no other difference in the Chriftians beating the Turks, or the Turks beating the Christians, than whether the Emperor shall firft declare war against Spain, or Spain declare it against the Emperor ? LETTER XCIII. Nov. 27, 1717. T HE queftion you proposed to me is what at present I am the most unfit man in the world to anfwer, by my loss of one of the best of fathers. He had liv'd in fuch a course of Temperance as was enough to make the longest life agreeable to him, and in such a course of Piety as fuffic'd to make the most sudden death so also. Sudden indeed it was: however, I heartily beg of God to give me fuch an one, provided I can lead fuch a life. I leave him to the mercy of God, and to the piety of a religion that extends beyond the grave: Si qua eft ea cura, &c. He has left me to the ticklish management of fo narrow a fortune, that any one falfe ftep would be fatal. My mother is in that difpirited state of refignation, which is the effect of long life, and the lofs of what is dear to us. We are really each of us in want of a friend, of fuch an human turn as your felf, to make almost any thing defirable to us. I feel your absence more than ever, at the fame time I can lefs exprefs my regards to you than ever; and shall make this, which is the most fincere letter I ever wrote to you, the shorteft and fainteft perhaps of any you have receiv'd. 'Tis enough if you reflect, that barely to remember any person when one's mind is taken up with a fenfible forrow, is a great degree of friendship. I can fay no more but that I love you, and all that are yours; and that I wish it may be very long before any of yours fhall feel for you what I now feel for ther. Adieu. my fa |