Henry Esmond; The English Humourists; The Four Georges Part 72

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

"Your," &c.

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

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

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

"It was by Swift's interest that Gay was made known to Lord Bolingbroke, and obtained his patronage."-SCOTT'S _Swift_, vol. i, p. 156.

Pope wrote on the occasion of Gay's death, to Swift, thus:-

"[Dec. 5, 1732.]

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

few are worth praying for, and one's self the least of all."

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

121 'Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring All on a rock reclined.

Wide o'er the foaming billows She cast a wistful look; Her head was crown'd with willows That trembled o'er the brook.

Twelve months are gone and over, And nine long tedious days; Why didst thou, venturous lover- Why didst thou trust the seas?

Cease, cease, thou cruel Ocean, And let my lover rest; Ah! what's thy troubled motion To that within my breast?

The merchant robb'd of pleasure, Sees tempests in despair; But what's the loss of treasure To losing of my dear?

Should you some coast be laid on, Where gold and diamonds grow, You'd find a richer maiden, But none that loves you so.

How can they say that Nature Has nothing made in vain; Why, then, beneath the water Should hideous rocks remain?

No eyes the rocks discover That lurk beneath the deep, To wreck the wandering lover, And leave the maid to weep?

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

_A Ballad_, from the "_What d'ye call it?_"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aug. 29, 1730.

"DEAR SIR,-

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your affectionate and real servant."

TO THE EARL OF BURLINGTON.

"August, 1714.

"MY LORD,

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

"It was the enterprising Mr. Lintot, the redoubtable rival of Mr.

Tonson, who, mounted on a stonehorse, overtook me in Windsor Forest.

He said he heard I designed for Oxford, the seat of the Muses, and would, as my bookseller, by all means accompany me thither.

"I asked him where he got his horse? He answered he got it of his publisher; 'for that rogue, my printer,' said he, 'disappointed me.

I hoped to put him in good humour by a treat at the tavern of a brown frica.s.see of rabbits, which cost ten s.h.i.+llings, with two quarts of wine, besides my conversation. I thought myself c.o.c.ksure of his horse, which he readily promised me, but said that Mr. Tonson had just such another design of going to Cambridge, expecting there the copy of a new kind of Horace from Dr. --; and if Mr. Tonson went, he was pre-engaged to attend him, being to have the printing of the said copy. So, in short, I borrowed this stonehorse of my publisher, which he had of Mr. Oldmixon for a debt. He lent me, too, the pretty boy you see after me. He was a s.m.u.tty dog yesterday, and cost me more than two hours to wash the ink off his face; but the devil is a fair-conditioned devil, and very forward in his catechism. If you have any more bags he shall carry them.'

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

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

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

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

"As Mr. Lintot was talking I observed he sat uneasy on his saddle, for which I expressed some solicitude. 'Nothing,' says he. 'I can bear it well enough; but, since we have the day before us, methinks it would be very pleasant for you to rest awhile under the woods.'

When we were alighted, 'See, here, what a mighty pretty Horace I have in my pocket! What, if you amused yourself in turning an ode till we mount again? Lord! if you pleased. What a clever miscellany might you make at leisure hours!' 'Perhaps I may,' said I, 'if we ride on; the motion is an aid to my fancy; a round trot very much awakens my spirits; then jog on apace, and I'll think as hard as I can.'

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

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