LETTER XV. TO MR. DIGBY. October 10. I WAS upon the point of taking a much greater journey than to Bermudas, even to That undiscover'd country, from whose bourn A fever carried me on the high gallop towards it for six or seven days-but here you have me now, and that is all I shall say of it: since which time an impertinent lameness kept me at home twice as long; as if Fate should say, (after the other dangerous illness,) "You shall neither go into the other world, nor any where you like in this." like in this." Else who knows but I had been at Homelacy? I conspire in your sentiments, emulate your pleasures, wish for your company. You are all of one heart and one soul, as was said of the primitive. Christians it is like the kingdom of the just upon earth; not a wicked wretch to interrupt you, but a set of tried, experienced friends, and fellow-comforters, who have seen evil men and evil days, and have, by a superior rectitude of heart, set yourselves above them, and reap your reward. Why will you ever of your own accord, end such a millenary year in London? transmigrate (if I may so call it) into other creatures, in that scene of folly militant, when you may reign for ever at Homelacy in sense and reason triumphant? I appeal to a third lady in your family, whom I take to be the most innocent, and the least warped by idle fashion and custom of you all; I appeal to her, if you are not every soul of you better people, better companions, and happier, where you are? I desire her opinion under her hand in your next letter, I mean Miss Scuda more's. I am confident if she would or durst speak her sense, and employ that reasoning which God has given her, to infuse more thoughtfulness into you all, those arguments could not fail to put you to the blush, and keep you out of town, like people sensible of your own felicities. I am not without hopes, if she can detain a parliament man and a lady of quality from the world one winter, that I may come upon you with such irresistible arguments another year, as may carry you all with me to the Bermudas, the seat of all earthly happiness, and the new Jerusalem of the righteous. Do not talk of the decay of the year; the season is good when the people are so. It is the best time in the year for a painter; there is more variety of colours in the leaves; the prospects begin to open, through the thinner woods over the valleys, and through the high canopies of trees to the higher arch of heaven: the dews of the morning impearl every thorn, and scatter diamonds on the verdant mantle of the earth; the frosts are fresh and wholesome: what would you have? The moon shines too, though not for lovers these cold nights, but for astronomers. Have you not reflecting telescopes, whereby ye may innocently magnify her spots and blemishes? Content yourselves with them, and do not come to a place where your own eyes become reflecting telescopes, and where those of all others are equally such upon their neighbours. Stay you at least, (for what I have said before relates only to the ladies; do not imagine I will write about any eyes but theirs ;) stay, I say, from that idle, busy-looking Sanhedrim, where wisdom or no wisdom 3 Afterwards Duchess of Beaufort; at this time very young.-Pope. She was afterwards much talked of, for a particular intrigue.-Warton. About this time the Rev. Dean Berkeley conceived his project of erecting a settlement in Bermudas for the propagation of the Christian faith, and introduction of sciences into America.-Pope. 5 These instruments were just then brought to perfection.-Pope. is the eternal debate, not (as it lately was in Ireland) an accidental one. If, after all, you will despise good advice, and resolve to come to London, here you will find me, doing just the things I should not, living where I should not, and as worldly, as idle, in a word, as much an Anti-Bermudanist as any body. Dear Sir, make the ladies know I am their servant, you know I am Yours, &c. LETTER XVI. TO MR. DIGBY. Aug. 12. I HAVE been above a month strolling about in Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire, from garden to garden, but still returning to Lord Cobham's with fresh satisfaction. I should be sorry to see my Lady Scudamore's till it has had the full advantage of Lord B***'s improvements; and then I will expect something like the waters of Riskins, and the woods of Oakley together, which (without flattery) would be at least as good as any thing in our world: for as to the hanging gardens of Babylon, the paradise of Cyrus, and the Sharawaggis of China, I have little or no ideas of them, but I dare say, Lord B*** has, because they were certainly both very great and very wild. I hope Mrs. Mary Digby is quite tired of his lordship's Extravagante Bergerie: and that she is just now sitting, or rather reclining on a bank, fatigued with overmuch dancing and singing at his unwearied request and instigation. I know your love of ease so well, that you might be in danger of being too quiet to enjoy quiet, and too philosophical to be a philosopher; were it not for the ferment Lord 6 See Sir W. Temple's account of them, vol. iii. of his Essays: but above all, Sir W. Chambers's description of them, and the heroic epistle addressed to him.-Warton. B*** will put you into. One of his lordship's maxims is, that a total abstinence from intemperance or business is no more philosophy, than a total consopiation' of the senses is repose; one must feel enough of its contrary to have a relish of either. But, after all, let your temper work, and be as sedate and contemplative as you will, I will engage you shall be fit for any of us, when you come to town in the winter. Folly will laugh you into all the customs of the company here; nothing will be able to prevent your conversion to her, but indisposition, which, I hope, will be far from you. I am telling the worst that can come of you; for as to vice, you are safe; but folly is many an honest man's, nay, every good-humoured man's lot: nay, it is the seasoning of life; and fools (in one sense) are the salt of the earth: a little is excellent, though indeed a whole mouthful is justly called the devil. So much for your diversions next winter, and for mine. I envy you much more at present, than I shall then; for if there be on earth an image of paradise, it is such perfect union and society as you all possess. I would have my innocent envies and wishes of your state known to you all; which is far better than making you compliments, for it is inward approbation and esteem. My Lord Digby has in me a sincere servant, or would have, were there any occasion for me to manifest it. LETTER XVII. TO MR. DIGBY. December 28, 1724. It is now the season to wish you a good end of one year, and a happy beginning of another: but both these 7 One of the few new words he ever used.-Warton. you know how to make yourself, by only continuing such a life as you have been long accustomed to lead. As for good works, they are things I dare not name, either to those that do them, or to those that do them not; the first are too modest, and the latter too selfish, to bear the mention of what are become either too oldfashioned, or too private, to constitute any part of the vanity or reputation of the present age. However, it were to be wished people would now and then look upon good works as they do upon old wardrobes, merely in case any of them should by chance come into fashion again; as ancient fardingales revive in modern hooped petticoats, which may be properly compared to charities, as they cover a multitude of sins. They tell me that at Coleshill certain antiquated charities and obsolete devotions are yet subsisting: that a thing called Christian cheerfulness, (not incompatible with Christmas-pies and plum-broth,) whereof frequent is the mention in old sermons and almanacks, is really kept alive and in practice: that feeding the hungry, and giving alms to the poor, do yet make a part of good house-keeping, in a latitude not more remote from London than fourscore miles: and lastly, that prayers and roast beef actually made some people as happy as a whore and a bottle. But here in town, I assure you, men, women, and children have done with these things. Charity not only begins, but ends, at home. Instead of the four cardinal virtues, now reign four courtly ones: we have cunning for prudence, rapine for justice, timeserving for fortitude, and luxury for temperance. Whatever you may fancy, where you live in a state of ignorance, and see nothing but quiet, religion, and good-humour, the case is just as I tell you where people understand the world, and know how to live with credit and glory. I wish that heaven would open the eyes of men, and |