γου LETTER VII. Dec. 5, 1712. OU have at length complied with the requeft I have often made you, for you have shown me, I must confefs, feveral of my faults in the fight of those letters. Upon a review of them, I find many things that would give me fhame, if I were not more defirous to be thought honeft than prudent; fo many things freely thrown out, fuch lengths of unreferved friendship, thoughts juft warm from the brain without any polifhing or drefs, the very dishabille of the understanding. You have proved yourfelf more tender of another's embryos than the fondest mothers are of their own, for you have preferved every thing that I miscarried of. Since I know this, I fhall in one refpect be more afraid of writing to you than ever, at this careless rate, because I fee my evil works may again rife in judgment against me; yet in another respect I fhall be lefs afraid, fince this has given me fuch a proof of the extreme indulgence you afford to my flightest thoughts. The revifal of these letters has been a kind of examination of confcience to me; fo fairly and faithfully have I fet down in them, from time to time, the true and undisguised state of my mind. But I find, that these which were intended as fketches of my friendship, give as imperfect images of it, as the little landscapes we commonly fee in black and white do of a beautiful country; they can represent but a very small part of it, and that deprived of the life and luftre of nature. I perceive, that the more I endeavoured to render manifeft the real affection and value I ever had for you, I did but injure it by reprefenting less and lefs of it: as glaffes which are defign'd to make an object very clear, generally contract it. Yet as when people have a full idea of a thing first upon their own knowledge, the leaft traces of it ferve to refresh the remembrance, and are not difpleafing on that score; so, I hope, hope, the foreknowledge you had of my efteem for you, is the reason that you do not diflike my letters. They will not be of any great fervice (I find) in the defign I mentioned to you: I believe I had better steal from a richer man, and plunder your letters (which I have kept as carefully as I would Letters Patent, fince they intitle me to what I more value than titles of honour.) You have some cause to apprehend this usage from me, if what fome fay be true, that I am a great borrower; however, I have hitherto had the luck that none of my creditors have challenged me for it: and those who say it are fuch, whose writings no man ever borrow'd from, fo have the leaft reafon to complain; and whose works are granted on all hands to be but too much their own. Another has been pleased to declare, that my verses are corrected by other men: I verily believe theirs were never corrected by any man: but indeed if mine have not, 'twas not my fault; I have endeavour'd my utmoft that they should. But these things are only whifper'd, and I will not encroach upon Bays's province and pen whispers, fo haften to conclude Your, &c. LETTER VIII. From my Lord LANSDOWN. Oct. 21, 1713. I AM pleafed beyond measure with your defign of tranflating Homer. The trials which you have already made and published on fome parts of that author, have fhewn that you are equal to fo great a task: and you may therefore depend upon the utmost services I can do you in promoting this work, or any thing that may be for your fervice. I hope Mr. Stafford, for whom you was pleased to concern yourself, has had the good effects of the Queen's grace to him. I had notice, the night before I began my journey, that her Majefty had not only directed bis pardon, but order'd a writ for reverfing his outlawry. IF LETTER IX. Your, &c. To General ANTHONY HAMILTON *. Upon his having tranflated into French Verse the Essay on Criticism. F I could as well exprefs, or (if you will allow me to fay it) tranflate the fentiments of my heart as you have done those of my head, in your excellent verfion of my Effay; I should not only appear the beft writer in the world, but, what I much more defire to be thought, the most your fervant of any man living, 'Tis an ad vantage very rarely known, to receive at once a great honour and a great improvement. This, Sir, you have afforded me, having at the fame time made others take my fenfe, and taught me to understand my own; if I may call that my own which is indeed more properly yours. Your verfes are no more a tranflation of mine, than Virgil's are of Homer's; but are, like his, the justeft imitation, and the nobleft Commentary. In putting me into a French dress, you have not only adorned my outfide, but mended my shape; and, if I am now a good figure, I muft confider you have naturaliz'd me into a country which is famous for making every man a fine gentleman. It is by your means that (contrary to moft young travellers) I am come back much better than I went out. I cannot but wish we had a bill of commerce for tranflation established the next parliament; we could not fail * Author of the Memoirs of the Count de Grammont, Contas, and other pieces of note in French. of being gainers by that, nor of making ourselves amends for any thing we have loft by the war. Nay, tho' we fhould infift upon the demolishing of Boileau's works, the French, as long as they have writers of your form, might have as good an equivalent. Upon the whole, I am really as proud, as our minifters ought to be, of the terms 1 have gain'd from abroad; and I defign, like them, to publish speedily to the world the benefits accruing from them; for I cannot refift the temptation of printing your admirable translation here*; to which, if you will be fo obliging to give me leave to prefix your name, it will be the only addition you can make to the honour already done me. I am Your, &c. This was never done, for the two printed French versions are neithe of this hand. The one was done by Monfieur Roboton, private fecretary to King George the firft, printed in quarto at Amsterdam, and at London 1717. The other by the Abbé Refnel, in octavo, with a large preface and notes, at Paris, 1730. LETTERS LETTERS TO AND FROM Mr. STEELE, Mr. ADDISON, Mr. CONGRE VE, &C. June 1, 1712. I AM at a folitude, an house between Hampstead and London, wherein Sir Charles Sedley died. This circumftance fet me a thinking and ruminating upon the employments in which men of wit exercise them felves. It was faid of Sir Charles, who breath'd his last in this room, Sedley has that prevailing gentle art, Which can with a refiftlefs charm impart } This was a happy talent to a man of the town, but, I dare fay, without prefuming to make uncharitable conjectures on the author's prefent condition, he would rather have had it faid of him that he had pray'd, |