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 B*** will put you into. One of his lordship's maxims is, that a total abstinence from

* 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.

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 goodhumoured 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.

* One of the few new words he ever used. Warton.

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 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 old-fashioned, 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, time-serving 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 make them sensible which of these is right; whether, upon a due conviction, we are to quit faction, and gaming, and high-feeding, and all manner of luxury, and to take to your country way; or you to leave prayers, and almsgiving, and reading, and exercise, and come into our measures. I wish (I say) that this matter was as clear to all men as it is to Your affectionate, &c.

LETTER XVIII.*

TO THE HON. EDWARD DIGBY.

DEAR SIR,

April 21, 1726.

HAVE a great inclination to write to you, though I cannot by writing, any more than I could by words, express what part I bear in your sufferings. Nature and esteem in you are joined to aggravate your affliction: the latter I have in a degree equal even to yours, and a tie of friendship approaches near to the tenderness of nature; yet, God knows, no man living is less fit to comfort you, as no man is more deeply sensible than myself of the greatness of the loss. That very virtue which secures his present state from all the sorrows incident to ours, does but aggrandize our sensation of its being removed from our sight, from our affection, and from our imitation; for the friendship and society of good men does not only make us happier, but it makes us better. Their death does but complete their felicity before our own, who probably are not yet arrived to that degree of perfection which merits an immediate reward. That your dear brother and my dear friend was so, I take his very removal to be a proof; Providence would certainly lend virtuous men to a world

* This was written, it appears very clearly, to Edward Digby, on the death of his brother Robert, Pope's correspondent. He became Lord Digby, and was father of Edward and Henry, the late Lords, of Robert, the present Admiral Digby, of William, the late Dean of Durham, and grandfather to the present Lady Ilchester, Mrs. Newbolt, &c. Bowles.