peers,

of virtue: all other praise, whether from poets or is contemptible alike: and I am old enough and experienced enough to know, that the only praises worth having, are those bestowed by virtue for virtue. My poetry I abandon to the critics, my morals I commit to the testimony of those who know me and therefore I was more pleased with your libel, than with any verses I ever received. I wish such a collection of your writings could be printed here, as you mention going on in Ireland. I was surprised to receive from the printer that spurious piece, called The Life and Character of Dr. Swift, with a letter, telling me the person who "published it had assured him the dedication to me was what I would not take ill, or else he would not have printed it." I cannot tell who the man is, who took so far upon him as to answer for my way of thinking; though, had the thing been genuine, I should have been greatly displeased at the publisher's part, in doing it without your knowledge.

I am as earnest as you can be in doing my best to prevent the publishing of anything unworthy of Mr. Gay; but I fear his friends' partiality. I wish you would come over. All the mysteries of my philosophical work shall then be cleared to you, and you will not think that I am merry enough, nor angry enough: It will not want for satire, but as for anger I know it not; or, at least, only that sort of which the Apostle speaks, Be ye angry, and

sin not."

My neighbour's writings have been metaphysical, and will next be historical. It is certainly from him only that a valuable history of Europe in these later times can be expected. Come, and quicken him: for age, indolence, and contempt of the world, grow upon men apace, and may often make the wisest indifferent whether posterity be any wiser than we.

To a man in years, health and quiet become such rarities, and consequently so valuable, that he is apt to think of nothing more than of enjoying them whenever he can, for the remainder of life; and this I doubt not has caused so many great men to die without leaving a scrap to posterity.

I am sincerely troubled for the bad account you give of your own health. I wish every day to hear a better, as much as I do to enjoy my own, I faithfully assure you.

SIR,

FROM MRS. PENDARVES.

London, May 29, 1733.

You will find, to your cost, that a woman's pen, when encouraged, is as bad as a woman's tongue : blame yourself, not me: had I never known the pleasure of receiving a letter from you, I should not have persecuted you now. I think (a little to justify this bold attack,) that I am obliged, by all the rules of civility, to give you an account of the letter you charged me with: I delivered it into my Lord Bathurst's hands; he read it before me: I looked silly upon his asking me, What you meant by the Fosset affair? and was obliged to explain it to him in my own defence, which gave him the diversion I believe you designed it should. We then talked of your vineyard he seemed pleased with every subject that related to you, and I was very ready to indulge him that way. I did not forget to brag of your favours to me; if you intended I should keep them a secret, I have spoiled all; for I have not an acquaintance of any worth that I have not told how

VOL. XVIII.

H

*

happy I have been in your company. Everybody loves to be envied, and this is the only way I have of raising people's envy. I hope, sir, you will forgive me, and let me know if I have behaved myself right: I think I can hardly do wrong as long as I am, Sir, your most obliged and most obedient M. PENDARVES.

servant,

Mrs. Donnellan is much your humble servant, and as vain of your favours as I am.

FROM THE DUCHESS OF QUEENS

BERRY.

DEAR SIR,

Amesbury, May 31, 1733.

I AM now again your Tunbridge correspondent. His grace and I have been here this fortnight, with no other company than bricklayers and labourers. We are throwing down a parcel of walls, that blocked us up every way, and making a sunk fence round

* Dr. Swift could not endure to hear the phrase BehavedBehaved what? he would say with some emotion. He once gave his cousin Deane Swift an account of his rebuking Lord Bathurst for this, and that my lord promised him not to be guilty of the like for the future. The words being here marked under by Mrs. Pendarves, prove that she refers to some rebuke of that kind.-N. To this I have to add, that Mrs. Pendarves mentioned to a lady, that one of the greatest bursts of Swift's displeasure she ever incurred, was by the use of the word mob. "Never let me hear you use that word again," said the Dean with great anger. "What then should I say?" " Rabble, to be sure," was Swift's reply.

the house. This will make the place as cheerful again, and we find great entertainment by inspecting the work. Since I came here, even I have often got up by six in the morning, designed it always, and the whole house are fast asleep before twelve. This I call good hours. I walk as much as I am able, sometimes rather more. We sometimes ride, though not often: for the evenings and mornings are very cold, and the middle of the day very hot. North-east winds continually, and such want of rain, that the ground is as hard as iron. I am the most temperate creature in my diet you ever knew; yet, with all my care, I cannot be well. I believe, if I am never guilty of a greater fault, I shall meet with very little resentment, either public or private. They are the faults in the world soonest forgot, and the seldomest truly resented. Let that be as it will, since health is undoubtedly the most valuable thing in life, I shall do all I can to obtain it. This makes me consent to a thing in the world I am most averse to; that is, going to the Spa about a month or six weeks hence. I wish it was good for your complaints, that we might be there together. Really, if you think it will be of any use to you, and that you can order your affairs so as to make it possible, depend upon it we shall make it our study, (and a very agreeable one too,) to make you as easy and happy as it is in the power of people (not of a very troublesome disposition) to contrive. Your complaint and mine are not very different, as I imagine. Mine is a sort of dizziness, which generally goes off by the headache. Some learned people give it a name I do not know how to spell, a vertico, or vertigo. Pray, understand that I, really and truly, do not only say, but mean, that I wish you could either meet us at the Spa, or at London, to go on with us; and in this I am sure I

shall never change my mind. If it can do you any good, I feel myself enough your friend to resent it extremely if you miss this opportunity. This you would believe, if you knew what obligations I have to you. I am generally poor in spirits, or quarrelling with myself for being good for nothing. When a letter comes from you, it does not only entertain and revive me, but instantly I fancy I ought to have a good opinion of myself; which is of very great use to have, provided it is kept within just bounds. I shall punctually obey your commands concerning that poem; but I think you may be perfectly easy on that account; for I saw it before I left London and heard several people talk of it, and the general opinion was, that you had no hand in it: but that the thing happened just as you say. I think you need not be much disturbed at it. The other trouble you mention I can allow of. Philosophy cannot make such things not be: the most it can pretend to is, to help people to patience. I am heartily sorry you have any particular occasion for any. Is your lawsuit still in being? Perhaps I may be impertinent; but I remember you once mentioned something of that kind.

You

I am pretty well satisfied anything is bad for the head that fills it too full; therefore I advise you to unbend your thoughts, and ask my advice; if it should prove good, take it; if not, leave it. I should be mighty glad to be of service to you; in making me so, you would shew kindness to the memory of your very sincere friend, and be kind to me. may depend upon me, both for his sake and your I will endeavour to convey your messages to Lady Catharine and Charlotte as soon as possible. The first I have not conversed with this year and a half; I believe she is nobody's friend, but I more than believe that nobody is hers. I have a brother

own.