fee all this, yet I think they would delight me more if you was here. I found the want of these at Twickenham, while I was there with you, by which I guess what an increase of charms it must now have. How kind is it in you to wifh me there, and how unfortunate are my circumftances that allow me not to vifit you? If I fee you, I must leave my father alone, and this uneafy thought would difappoint all my propofed pleafures; the fame circumftance will prevent my prospect of many happy hours with you in Lord Bathurft's wood, and, I fear, of seeing you till winter, unlefs Lady Scudamore comes to Sherburne, in which cafe I fhall prefs you to fee Dorsetshire, as you proposed. May you have a long enjoyment of your new favourite Portico. Your, &c.

LETTER VI.

From Mr. DIGBY.

Sherburne, July 9, 1720.

THE London language and converfation is, I find, quite changed fince I left it, tho' it is not above three or four months ago. No violent change in the natural world ever astonished a Philofopher fo much as this does me. I hope this will calm all Party rage, and introduce more humanity than has of late obtained in conversation. All fcandal will fure be laid afide, for there can be no fuch difeafe any more as Spleen in this new golden age. I am pleafed with the thoughts of feeing nothing but a general good humour when I come up to town; I rejoice in the univerfal riches I hear of, in the thought of their having this effect. They tell me you was foon content; and that you cared not for fuch an increase as others wifhed you. By this account I judge you the richest man in the South-fea, and congratulate you accordingly. I can wish you only an increase of health, for of riches and fame you have enough.

Your, &c.

LET

LETTER VII.

July 20, 1720.

YOUR kind defire to know the ftate of my health had not been unsatisfied fo long, had not that ill ftate been the impediment. Nor fhould I have feem'd an unconcern'd party in the joys of your family, which I heard of from lady Scudamore, whose short Eschantillon of a letter (of a quarter of a page) I value as the short glympfe of a vifion afforded to fome devout hermit; for it includes (as those revelations do) a promise of a better life in the Elyfian groves of Cirencester, whither, I could fay almoft in the ftyle of a fermon, the Lord bring us all, &c. Thither may we tend, by various ways, to one blissful bower: thither may health, peace, and good humour wait upon us as affociates: thither may whole cargoes of nectar (liquor of life and longevity!) by mortals call'd fpaw-water, be conveyed; and there (as Milton has it) may we, like the deities,

On flow'rs repos'd, and with fresh garlands crown'd, Quaff immortality and joy.

When I fpeak of garlands, I fhould not forget the green vestments and scarfs which your fifters promis'd to make for this purpose: I expect you too in green, with a hunting horn by your fide, and a green hat, the model of which you may take from Osborne's defcription of King James the firft.

What words, what numbers, what oratory, or what poetry, can fuffice, to exprefs how infinitely I efteem, value, love, and defire you all, above all the great ones of this part of the world; above all the Jews, jobbers, bubblers, subscribers, projectors, directors, governors, treasurers, &c. &c. &c. in fæcula fæculorum.

Turn your eyes and attention from this miserable mercenary period; and turn yourself, in a juft contempt of these fons of Mammon, to the contemplation of books, gardens, and marriage; in which I now leave you, and return (wretch that I am!) to water-gruel and Palladio. I am, &c.

LET

ney

LETTER VIII.

From Mr. DIGBY.

Sherburne, July 30.

*

Congratulate you, dear Sir, on the return of the Golden age; for fure this must be fuch, in which mois shower'd down in such abundance upon us. I hope this overflowing will produce great and good fruits, and bring back the figurative moral golden-age to us. I have fome omens to induce me to believe it may; for when the Mufes delight to be near a Court, when I find you frequently with a Firft minifter, I can't but expect, from such an intimacy, an encouragement and revival of the polite arts. I know, you defire to bring them into honour, above the golden Image which is fet up and worshipped; and, if you cannot effect it, adieu to all fuch hopes. You seem to intimate in yours, another face of things from this inundation of wealth, as if beauty, wit, and valour, would no more engage our paffions in the pleasurable pursuit of them, tho' affifted by this increase: if so, and if monfters only as various as those of Nile arife from this abundance, who that has any spleen about him will not hafte to town to laugh? What will become of the play-house? who will go thither, while there is fuch entertainment in the ftreets? I hope we shall neither want good Satire nor Comedy; if we do, the age. may well be thought barren of geniufes, for none has ever produced better fubjects. Your, &c.

LETTER IX.

From Mr. DIGBY.

Coleshill, Nov. 12, 1720.

I Find in my heart that I have a taint of the corrupt age we live in. I want the public Spirit fo much admired in old Rome, of facrificing every thing that is dear

to

to us to the commonwealth. I even feel a more intimate concern for my friends who have fuffered in the S. Sea, than for the public, which is faid to be undone by it. But I hope the reason is, that I do not see so evidently the ruin of the public to be a confequence of it, as I do the lofs of my friends. I fear there are few befides yourfelf that will be perfuaded by old Hefiod, that half is more than the whole. I know not whether I do not rejoice in your Sufferings; fince they have fhewn me your mind is principled with fuch a fentiment, I affure you I expect from it a performance greater ftill than Homer. I have an extreme joy from your communicating to me this affection of your mind;

Quid voveat dulci Nutricula majus alumno?

Believe me, dear Sir, no equipage could fhew you to my eye in fo much fplendor. I would not indulge this fit of philosophy so far as to be tedious to you, elfe I could profecute it with pleasure.

I long to fee you, your Mother, and your Villa; till then I will fay nothing of Lord Bathurst's wood, which I faw in my return hither. Soon after Christmas I defign for London, where I fhall mifs Lady Scudamore very much, who intends to stay in the country all winter. I am angry with her, as I am like to fuffer by this refolution, and would fain blame her, but cannot find a caufe. The man is curfed that has a longer letter than this to write with as bad a pen; yet I can use it with pleasure, to fend my fervices to your good mother, and to write myself Your, &c.

D

LETTER X.

Sept. 1, 1722.

Octor Arbuthnot is going to Bath, and will ftay there a fortnight or more: perhaps you would be comforted to have a fight of him, whether you need him or not. I think him as good a Doctor as any man for one that is ill, and a better Doctor for one that is well. He would do ad

mirably

thirably for Mrs. Mary Digby: fhe needed only to follow his hints, to be in eternal bufinefs and amufement of mind, and even as active as fhe could defire. But indeed I fear fhe would out-walk him; for (as Dean Swift obferv'd to me the very first time I faw the Doctor) "He is "a man that can do every thing but walk." His brother, who is lately come into England, goes alfo to the Bath; and is a more extraordinary man than he, worth your going thither on purpose to know him. The fpirit of philanthropy, fo long dead to our world, is reviv'd in him he is a philofopher all of fire; fo warmly, nay, fo wildly in the right, that he forces all others about him to be fo too, and draws them into his own Vortex. He is a ftar that looks as if it were all fire, but is all benignity, all gentle and beneficial influence. If there be other men in the world that would ferve a friend, yet he is the only one, I believe, that could make even an enemy ferve a friend.

As all human life is chequer'd and mixed with acquifitions and loffes (tho' the latter are more certain and irremediable, than the former lafting or fatisfactory) so at the time I have gain'd the acquaintance of one worthy man, I have loft another, a very cafy, humane, and gentlemanly neighbour, Mr. Stonor. 'Tis certain, the lofs of one of this character puts us naturally upon fetting à greater value on the few that are left, tho' the degree of our esteem may be different. Nothing, fays Seneca, is fo melancholy a circumftance in human life, or fo foon reconciles us to the thought of our own death, as the reflection and prospect of one friend after another dropping round us! Who would ftand alone, the fole remaining ruin, the laft tottering column of all the fabric of friendship,; once fo large, seemingly fo ftrong, and yet fo fuddenly funk and buried? I am, &c.

I

LETTER XI.

Have belief enough in the goodness of your whole family, to think you will all be pleas'd that I am arriv'd in fafety at Twickenham; tho' it is a fort of earneft that VOL. IV.

S

you