DEAR SIR,

LETTER XVI.

Oct. 6, 1727. I HAVE many years ago magnified in my own mind, and repeated to you, a ninth Beatitude, added to the eighth in the Scripture; "Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed." I could find in my heart to congratulate you on this happy dismission from all Court dependance; I dare say I shall find you the better and the honester man for it many years hence; very probably the healthfuller and the chearfuller into the bargain. You are happily rid of many cursed ceremonies, as well as of many ill and vicious Habits, of which few or no men escape the infection, who are hackneyed and tramelled in the ways of a court. Princes indeed, and Peers (the lackies of Princes), and Ladies (the fools of Peers), will smile on you the less; but men of worth, and real friends, will look on you the better. There is a thing, the only thing which Kings and Queens cannot give you (for they have it not to give), Liberty, and which is worth all they have; which, as yet, I thank God, Englishmen need not ask from their hands. You will enjoy that, and your own integrity, and the satisfactory consciousness of having not merited such graces from Courts as are bestowed only on the mean, servile, flattering, interested, and undeserving. The only steps to the favour' of the

Is the picture of Ministers and Courtiers and Great Men, drawn by the masterly hand of a person of much experience and observation, Mad. Maintenon, faithful and true?

"Je ne suis point portée à la defiance, et j'aurois vecu long

Great are such complacencies, such compliances, such distant decorums, as delude them in their vanities, or engage them in their passions. He is their greatest favourite who is the falsest; and when a man, by such vile gradations, arrives at the height of grandeur and power, he is then at best but in a circumstance to be hated, and in a condition to be hanged, for serving their ends: so many a Minister has found it!

I believe you did not want advice in the letter you sent by my Lord Grantham; I presume you writ it not, without and you could not have better, if I guess right at the person who agreed to your doing it, in respect to any Decency you ought to observe: for I take that person to be a perfect judge of decencies and forms. I am not without fears even on that person's account: I think it a bad omen: but

temps sans croire les hommes aussi mauvais qu'on les dit; mais la Cour change les meilleurs. Presque tous noyent leurs parens et leurs amis pour dire un mot de plus au Roi, et pour lui montrer qu'ils lui sacrifient tout. Ce pays est effroyable, il n'y a point de tête qui n'y tourne. Enfin les hommes sont tres mal dans mon esprit, et je ne regarde pas les femmes. Cependant je reçois la compagnie; et quelle compagnie! Je suis obsedée ou de femmes que je meprise, ou d'hommes qui ne m'aiment point. Je vois, j'entends des choses qui me deplaisent, ou qui m'indignent. Je m'observe sans cesse pour retenir mon impatience, et pour empecher qu'on ne s'apperçoive que je la retiens. Nous avons des assassinats de sang froid, des envies sans sujet, des rages, des trahisons sans ressentimens, des avarices insatiables, des désespoirs au milieu du bonheur, des bassesses, qu'on couvre du nom de grandeur d'ame. Je me tais, je n'y puis penser sans emportement."

This satire is carried to excess. The Great, as they are called, are neither so bad or so good, as they are usually represented to be.

what have I to do with Court-omens ?-Dear Gay, adieu. I can only add a plain uncourtly speech: While you are nobody's servant, you may be any one's friend; and, as such, I embrace you, in all conditions of life. While I have a shilling, you shall have six-pence, nay eight-pence, If I can contrive to live upon a groat. I am faithfully

LETTER XVII.

MR. GAY TO MR. POPE.

Your, etc.

Aug. 2, 1728.

"TWAS two or three weeks ago that I writ you a letter; I might indeed have done it sooner; I thought of you every post-day upon that account, and every other day upon some account or other. I must beg you to give Mrs. B. my sincere thanks for her kind way of thinking of me, which I have heard of more than once from our friend at court, who seemed, in the letter she writ, to be in high health and spirits: Considering the multiplicity of pleasures and delights that one is over-run with in those places, I wonder how any body hath health and spirit enough to support them: I am heartily glad she has, and whenever I hear so, I find it contributes to mine. You see I am not free from dependance, though I have less attendance than I had formerly; for a great deal of my own welfare still depends upon hers. Is the widow's house to be disposed of yet? I have not given up my pretensions to the Dean: if it was

to be parted with, I wish one of us had it; I hope you wish so too, and that Mrs. Blount and Mrs. Howard wish the same, and for the very same reason that I wish it. All I could hear of you of late hath been by advertisements in news-papers, by which one would think the race of Curls was multiplied; and by the indignation such fellows shew against you, that you have more merit than any body alive could have. Homer himself hath not been worse used by the French. I am to tell you that the Dutchess makes you her compliments, and is always inclined to like any thing you do; that Mr. Congreve admires, with me, your fortitude; and loves, not envies, your performance; for we are not Dunces. Adieu.

LETTER XVIII.

April 18, 1730.

IF my friendship were as effectual as it is sincere, you would be one of those people who would be vastly advantaged and enriched by it. I ever honoured those Popes who were most famous for Nepotism, 'tis a sign that the old fellows loved Somebody, which is not usual in such advanced years. And I now honour Sir Robert Walpole for his extensive bounty and goodness to his private friends and relations. But it vexes me to the heart when I reflect, that my friendship is so much less effectual than theirs; nay so utterly useless that it cannot give you any thing, not even a dinner at this distance, nor help the Ge

neral, whom I greatly love, to catch one fish. My only consolation is to think you happier than myself, and to begin to envy you, which is next to hating you (an excellent remedy for love). How comes it that Providence has been so unkind to me (who am a greater object of compassion than any fat man alive), that I am forced to drink wine, while you riot in water, prepared with oranges by the hand of the Dutchess of Queensberry? that I am condemned to live by a highway side, like an old Patriarch, receiving all guests, where my portico (as Virgil has it)

Mane salutantum totis vomit ædibus undam,

while you are wrapped into the Idalian Groves, sprinkled with rose-water, and live in burrage, balm, and burnet, up to the chin, with the Dutchess of Queensberry? that I am doomed to the drudgery of dining at court with the ladies in waiting at Windsor, while you are happily banished with the Dutchess of Queensberry? So partial is fortune in her dispensations! for I deserved ten times more to be banished than you, and I know some Ladies who merit it better than even her Grace. After this I must not name any, who dare do so much for you as to send you their services. But one there is, who exhorts me often to write to you, I suppose, to prevent or excuse her not doing it herself; she seems (for that is all I'll say for a courtier) to wish you mighty well. Another, who is no courtier, frequently mentions you, and does certainly wish you well.-I fancy, after all, they both do so.

I writ to Mr. Fortescue, and told him the pains