May 25, 1712. AT last I do myself the honour to send you the Rape of the Lock; which has been so long coming out, that the lady's charms might have been half decayed, while the poet was celebrating them, and the printer publishing them. But yourself and your fair sister must needs have been surfeited already with this trifle; and therefore you have no hopes of entertainment but from the rest of this book ", wherein (they tell me) are some things that may be dangerous to be looked upon: however, I think you may venture, though you should blush for it, since blushing becomes you the best of any lady in England, and then the most dangerous thing to be looked upon is yourself. Indeed, Madam, not to flatter you, our virtue will be sooner overthrown by one glance of yours, than by all the wicked poets can write in an The Rape of the Lock, enlarged into five cantos, and enriched with the machinery of the sylphs. age, as has been too dearly experienced by the wickedest of them all, that is to say, by, Madam, Your most obedient, etc. LETTER II. TO THE SAME. Bath, Sept. 4. DEAR MADAM, I THANK you for many things, and particularly for your letters. That which gave me an account of my mother's tolerable health, told me no more than three others told me; yet it satisfied me much more, as being from you. To think that a person whom we wish so much our friend as to take a concern in all that concerns us, should be cordially affected with things, is a greater and more tender pleasure than any of the same cares or testimonies from others. I left Lord Cobham's, as I told you, not without a wish that yourself and Mrs. Howard had seen it with me. I passed by the door of my Lord Deloraine's, which is a neat stone-house, with a view to the Downs, but low situated. I can't help telling you one circumstance, that, as I travelled all alone, made me contemplative. I was drawn by a horse now employed by Lord C. in rolling the gardens, which was the same in former days on which the Earl of Derwentwater rid at Preston. It made me reflect, that man himself is as blind and unknowing of his fate, as the beast he bestrides equally proud and prancing in his glory, and equally ignorant whither or to what he is running. I lay one night at Rousham, which is the prettiest place for water-falls, jetts, ponds inclosed with beautiful scenes of green and hanging wood, that ever I saw. I lay next at Mr. Howe's, in Gloucestershire; a fine thing of another kind, where nature has done : every thing, and luckily, for the master has ten children. But it might be made very grand, merely by taking away part of what is there already. I called at Sir William Codrington's ", designing but for half a day, and it not being a mile out of the way; but found it impossible (without more violence than ought ever to be offered to good-nature) to get from thence till just now. My reception there will furnish matter for a letter to Mr. Bethel. It was perfectly in his spirit: all his sisters, in the first place, insisted I should take physic, preparatory to the waters, and truly I made use of the time, place, and persons, to that end. My Lady Cox, the first night I lay there, mixed my electuary, Lady Codrington pounded sulphur, Mrs. Bridges Bethel ordered broth. Lady Cox marched first up-stairs with the physic in a gallipot; Lady Codrington next, with the vial of oyle; Mrs. Bridget third, with pills; the fourth sister, with spoons and tea-cups. It would have rejoiced the ghost of Dr. Woodward to have beheld this procession; and I should be inclined to think it might bring Mr. Bethel this way two hundred miles about, if I would promise but to do the same thing on my return home. By this means I have an opportunity of astonishing Dr. Arbuthnot, to see me begin the waters without any physic, and to set him and Mr. Gay in an uproar about me, and my wilfulness: I may even hope to be as famous as yourself. I was much pleased with what happened on Mr. B.'s sisters all taking physic some days together (which I was told there, and gives a perfect character of the great taste of the family to it). A country wench in the house thanked God heartily, that she was not born a gentlewoman, and declared she would not be one for the world. Their house is pretty enough, the situa с A beautiful seat at Durhams, eight miles from Bath, on the Oxford road. < Dr. Woodward died April 25, 1728. tion romantic, covered with woody hills tumbling upon one another confusedly, and the garden makes a valley betwixt them, with some mounts and waterfalls. I have experienced the fate of many promises, and many friends. Before I came hither, it was matter of contention who should carry me the journey! and at last, when it came to the point, I travelled every step of the way all alone. However, it was some comfort to me, that I really amused myself, and found not the length of the journey: it is a satisfaction to find that power in oneself, which one would not always owe to other helps and contingencies. I think I never passed a pleasanter, abating a few thoughts, with which I will not trouble you or any other friend; and which sit too near me to be totally banished by any company, amusement, or distance whatever. When you say Mrs. Howard is well, I fear you don't (speak) of the pain in her face, but in general. I can't but think that Bath might give her blood a new turn, of which the doctors here, I believe, will not despair. But I have yet seen none of them, nor any other creature. The first thing I have done is to sit down to write this. My next shall tell you who is here, etc. and what I find in the place. I am ever Yours, etc. Wednesday. Lord Peterborow is just arrived. |