ii
 
 I
 
 Ji.i""'' 
 
 
 <^ 
 
 hihluhM fy J.Xu-Anii i J'cTO J,viaSt(
 
 TRADITIONS 
 
 AND 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS; 
 
 DOMESTIC, CLERICAL, AND LITERARY; 
 
 IN WHICH AKE INCLUDED 
 
 LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 CHARLES 11. CROMWELL, FAIRFAX, 
 
 EDGECUMBE, MACAULAY, WOLCOT, 
 
 OPIE, WHITAKER, GIBBON, BULLER, COURTENAY, MOORE, 
 
 DOWNMAN, DREWE, SEWARD, DARWIN, COWPER, 
 
 HAYLEY, HARDINGE, SIR WALTER SCOTT, 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER DISTINGUISHED CHARACTERS. 
 
 Frequenter hortatus es, ut Epistolas colligerem putlicaremque, Servato 
 ordinis tempore, collegi. Superest, ut nee te consilii, nee me poeniteat obsequil. 
 
 Hoc est 
 
 Vivere bis, vita posse priore frui. 
 
 By THE REV. R. POLWHELE, 
 
 VICAR OF NEWLYN AND ST. ANTHONY, AND AN HONORARY ASSOCIATE OF 
 THE ROYAL LITERARY SOCIETY. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY AND FOR JOHN NICHOLS AND SON, 
 
 25, PARLIAMENT STREET. 
 
 . 1826.
 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The following "Traditions and Recollections" 
 were originally put together for the sole use of the 
 Author's very large family. He had intended to 
 print no more than fifty copies. But the Editor, 
 assured that the Anecdotes and Letters would be 
 extremely interesting to the Public (and pleased 
 with the numerous specimens of poetry as yet 
 unprinted), has prevailed on the Author to permit 
 them to go beyond a private circle. 
 
 To obviate a strong objection that the charge 
 of vanity would be incurred by such a publica- 
 tion, the Editor had no scruple in stating his 
 opinion, that the production of the praises of 
 critics, and of complimentary letters from the 
 highest authorities, must be deemed no other than 
 an honest vindication of a literary character, which 
 has either been unaccountably neglected, or un- 
 feelingly calumniated. 
 
 Parliament -street, Jan. 1, 1826. J. N.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In recollecting "the years that are passed," I 
 have endeavoured to distribute my materials in 
 lucid order ; and my children's children will be 
 gratified with clear and interesting views of cha- 
 racters and transactions. 
 
 The Work consists of Eleven Chapters and an 
 Appendix. Every Chapter is divided into two 
 Sections : the first Section exhibiting Notices, 
 Biographical and Critical ; the second Section, 
 Familiar Letters and Poetic Epistles. The two 
 Sections run parallel in point of time ; the second 
 illustrative of the first. 
 
 In apology for my " Traditions and Recollec- 
 tions," I have nothing to offer. 
 
 To address myself to those who are deficient 
 in candour, would be frivolous ; and the more 
 liberal will recognise in me, without a clue, the 
 pleasure which is satisfied with " the praise of 
 the praised" — not the wish for indiscriminate ap-
 
 VI 
 
 plause. I am assured that, in all I have written, 
 they will discover more frequently the sentiments 
 of friendship than the effusions of vanity. And 
 they will oftener perceive a becoming vindication 
 of character, and a correction of erroneous state- 
 ments, than the obtrusion of dogmatical opinion, 
 or an invidious spirit of recrimination. Whether 
 I have respect to my Domestic, or Clerical, or 
 Literary life, in no passage, I trust, will even my 
 enemies detect the slightest symptom of petulance 
 or censoriousness ; though I am aware of expres- 
 sions which they may readily place to the account 
 of a wounded sensibility. 
 
 In regard to " the Familiar Letters," my friends 
 have repeatedly suggested to me, that a corres- 
 pondence of forty years might admit of many 
 valuable selections ; especially as the writers were 
 for the most part distinguished persons, whose 
 sketches of a careless moment may be more amus- 
 ing than compositions finished for immortality. 
 
 R. P. 
 
 Polwhele, 
 near Truro, 1825.
 
 VI I 
 
 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 -♦- 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 Page. 
 
 Section I. — Notices chiefly Genealogical 1 
 
 Section II. — Letters of Ciiarles the Second j Cromwell; 
 Fairfax ; Basset ; Waller ; Edgecumbe 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Section I. — Notices, Biographical and Critical, from l/GO 
 to 1777 25 
 
 Section II. — Letters of Glynn, Wolcot, Collins, &c. from 
 176"2 to 1777 44 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Section I. — Notices, Biographical and Critical, from 1778 
 to 17S'2 74 
 
 Section II.— Letters, 1778 to 1782, from Mrs. Macaulay, 
 Collins, Bp. Randolph, Rack, Toogood, &c 81 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Section I. — Notices, Biographical and Critical, 17S2 and 
 
 1783 138 
 
 Section II. — Epistle to a College Friend, 1783 140
 
 Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Section I. — ^The Author's Residence at Kenton 146 
 
 Section II. — Letters, 17S4 to 1793, from theCountess Dow- 
 ager of Chatham, Lord Mount Edgecumbe, Miss Seward, 
 Dr. Downman, Badcock, Drewe, Whitaker, Cowper, Hay- 
 ley, Darwin, and others 164 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Section L — Residence in Exeter 337 
 
 Section IL — Letters, 1793 and 1794, from Mr. Jones, Bp. 
 Bennett, &c 337 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Section I. — Residence at Exmouth, 1794 350 
 
 Section II. — Letters, in 1794, from Jones, &c 351
 
 f
 
 fc-.C 
 
 
 
 II 
 
 
 :^
 
 TRADITIONS 
 
 AND 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Section I, 
 Notices chiefly Genealogical. 
 
 JlSefore I proceed to my '* Recollections," it 
 may not be improper to state to my children a 
 few particulars of a family to which (as to other 
 respectable houses of long standing) Cornwall 
 was indebted for many substantial services. 
 
 In paying my compliments, therefore, to my 
 predecessors, let me premise, that at the time of 
 the Norman Conquest, about two miles east of 
 Truro, stood the Castle of Polwhele, not far, 
 probably, from that high ground called " The 
 Barrows*," in which sepulchral urns had been de- 
 
 * " The barrow," or " barrow-close," refers us unquestionably 
 to those early days, when the bodies of the dead were burnt and 
 deposited in urns. At no great distance from what is a via strata, 
 
 B
 
 2 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 posited (and were not long since dug up), and 
 between which and the present mansion-house, 
 fragments of gothic arches and pillars, and sculp- 
 tured and inscribed stones, and baptismal fonts 
 (the work of after ages), have been discovered, 
 and are perhaps still discoverable. 
 
 At the other extremity of what is now the pa- 
 rish of St. Clement, stood the Castle of Moresk, 
 overshadowing from its turrets *' a branch of the 
 sea." Not a vestige of it remains ; nor will tradi- 
 tion assist us in tracing out its site with accuracy ; 
 but its name implies " the sea-creek house." 
 
 Of Moresk (in Domesday Moireis) Ordulf was 
 the owner in the time of Edward the Confessor ; 
 and when the Exeter survey was taken (before the 
 year 1083), the Earl of Moreton and his villeins 
 were its owners or occupiers. 
 
 The manor of Polwhele, in Domesday Polhel, 
 was occupied by Winus de Polhal (or Polwel or 
 Polwyl) under Edward the Confessor, and then 
 by Ulfius, a villein of the Earl of Moreton * j but 
 
 the " Silver close " is Roman. Adjoining to this field are two in- 
 closures, called the San-parc and the San-parc-meadows ; and 
 San-parc is " the sacred enclosure." Here we have a memorial 
 of later times, when a plot of ground contiguous to the church 
 or the chapel of the manor-house, was usually consecrated and 
 set apart for burial. Another field on Polwhele Edles or Ethedles 
 (i. e. the court-house or palace of Ethed or Ethelred) points to 
 the Saxons. In a vale about a mile distant, is the village of 
 Edles, once the property of Polwhele, as was all the intermediate 
 highland. 
 
 * The last syllable of a Cornbh dissyllable is, properly, long. 
 Of this the Normans were not aware, nor are the English at
 
 FAMILY OF POLWHELE. 3 
 
 this was a temporary occupation. To make room 
 for the Earl of Moreton, the Conqueror had ex- 
 pelled the former Earl and all his adherents from 
 their hereditary lands. 
 
 In the year 1140 (when we see Stephen her 
 prisoner) the Empress Matilda had immediately 
 respect to her friends, who had assisted her in 
 fighting her battles. To the Cornish she was 
 more especially attached j and in this very year 
 (1140) we find her giving lands in Cornwall to 
 Drogo de Polwheile, her Chamberlain *. 
 
 Amidst the obscurity of ancient records, there 
 is one point sufficiently plain, that the Cornish 
 Earls, like the Princes they succeeded, affecting 
 independence, were frequently at enmity with the 
 English Monarchs ; and, after the creation of the 
 
 present, laying the stress on the first syllable of a word, and pro- 
 nouncing and spelling the last, ad libitum. Hence Polwhele, or 
 Polwheele, was pronounced and spelt Polhal, Polw&l, Polwyl, 
 &c, &c. indiscriminately. There were several branches of the 
 Polwheles once flourishing in Middlesex, Staffordshire, and Here- 
 fordshire ; but there exists not one at present. Whence came 
 that respectable family the Polhills ? Had the Polwheles and 
 the Polhills one common origin ? 
 
 * By a deed which begins thus, " Drogoni de Polwheile Ca- 
 merario meo," &c. &c. This family document bears date 1140. 
 Tonkin calls this Drogo " The Lord Chamberlain of the Em- 
 press Matilda." See Tonkin's MSS. penes Lord de Dunstanville, 
 See in the Gentleman's Magazine for January 1823, a curious 
 letter from my friend Mr. Bowles, respecting the foundation of 
 St. Mary De Drownfont, or " the fountain of Drogo, Chamberlain 
 of the Empress Matilda,'' Unquestionably the very Drogo who 
 stands at the head of the Polwhele pedigree. 
 
 b2
 
 4 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Duchy, even the Duke of Cornwall was often seen 
 acting in opposition to the King of England. 
 
 Of the Castles of Moresk and Polwhele we 
 have no distinct account till the reign of Ed- 
 ward IV. It was then, in 1473, that William of 
 Worcestre came into Cornwall ; and in the vici- 
 nity of Truro he notices these two rival castles. 
 The Castle of Polwhe7e was the property of a 
 gentleman then in the service of the King^ as 
 Worcestre tells us. The Castle of Moresk was 
 occupied by a vassal of the Duhe of Cornwall^ 
 standing near the sea, at the extreme point of the 
 Duchy manor. Polwhele, unconnected with the 
 Duchy, and independent of the Dukes, " in Filla 
 Polwhele," or '^ on the Manor y' (as Worcestre 
 expresses it,) had towered on a commanding site 
 for ages. But we are told by Worcestre, who 
 passed the night in " Villa Polwhele," a guest of 
 Otho, that the Castle of Polwhele was then re- 
 duced to ruins ; and it was so reduced, probably, 
 by the adherents of Queen Margaret. Of Otho 
 we have the following notice in the family pedi- 
 gree, in perfect correspondence with Worcestre : 
 "John Polwhyle de Polwhyle [3? Henry VI.] 
 married Alicia, the daughter and heiress of Otho 
 Lukie, whose son and heir was Otho Polwheile 
 de Polwheile [Edw. IV.], who married Mary, the 
 daughter and heiress of Walter Killigrew. It ap- 
 pears that Stephen, son of Otho, married Mary, 
 the daughter of Erisie * de Erisie, or Erizzey ; 
 
 * It should seem, that. " Erizzey " was pronounced " He-
 
 FAMILY OF rOLWHELE, 5 
 
 that John, their son, married the heiress of Tresa- 
 well cle Tresawell ; and that John, their son, mar- 
 ried Grace, the daughter of Lower de Trelask ; 
 and this John was Knight of the Shire 4th and 
 5th of Philip and Mary. It is remarkable, that 
 of the families which had the honour of producing 
 persons to represent their native county, from 
 Edw. I. to Phil, and Mary, not one exists at the 
 present day, except Basset, Tremayne, and Pol- 
 whele. I possess the picture of John, an admir- 
 able portrait. Dr. Wolcot used to' say (in his hy- 
 perbolical style) that it was " a sun, at whose 
 sight all the stars of the Royal Academy would 
 hide their diminished heads." And Opie (em- 
 ployed in painting my portrait), when he first saw 
 my whiskered ancestor, " gaped in wonderment." 
 The pedigree exhibits the son and heir of John, 
 the member for Cornwall, as " Degorius de Pol- 
 whele et Treworgan," who married Catherine, 
 daughter and coheiress of Robert Trencreek, of 
 Treworgan, the first Recorder of the Borough of 
 Truro, under the charter of P^lizabeth*. The son 
 
 RESY " ia the time of James I. from a pun of that facetious King 
 upon the name, in compliment to the orthodoxy of Mr, Erisie, 
 then at Court. See Tonkin's MSS. penes Lord De Dunstanville. 
 
 * The four daughters and heiresses of Trencreek were mar- 
 ried — 1st, Julian, to Carminow -, 2nd, Jane, to Penvvarne j 
 3rd, Catharine, to Polwhele j 4 th, Honor, to Mohun. Some 
 little scattered propeity still remains with the Polwhele family, 
 a memorial of their alliance with Mohun and Carminow ; as 
 also a few small tenements commemorative of their connexion 
 with Edgcumbe, Glanville, and Godolphin. In the north aisle 
 of the old church at St. Erme there was an aged monument
 
 6 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 and heir of Degoiy, " Thomas, superstes 1620," 
 married *' Dionysia fil. Johannis Glanville de Ta- 
 
 (now placed in the vestry-room of the new church), charged 
 with five shields of armorial bearings. — 1st. Trencreek, quar- 
 tering a chevron between three dolphins, and impaling Vivian. 
 2nd. Carminow, impaling Trencreek. 3rd. Penwarne, impaling 
 Trencreek. 4th. Polwhele, impaling Trencreek. 5th. Mohun, 
 impaling Trencreek. 
 
 It is remarkable, that Vivian's arms, Az. three fishes in pale 
 Arg. are the same as those which belonged to the Bodmin Priory. 
 Isabella, daughter of Polwhele (who married Trencreek), was 
 married to Richard Chiverton, of Trehunsey in jyuithiock, and 
 had eleven children j one of whom. Sir Richard Chivertoxi, was 
 Lord Mayor of London in 1658. 
 
 The epitaphs on the Chivertons, in Quethiock church, are 
 curious. 
 
 On Richard Chiverton, who died July 28, 1617: — 
 " Friends (whoe'er you be) forbeare 
 
 On this stone to shed a teare : 
 
 Keep thine ointment, for indeede 
 
 Bounty is made goode by neede. 
 
 Here are they whose amber eyes 
 
 Have embalm'd the obsequies : 
 
 Who will think you doe them wronge, 
 
 OfFeringe what to them belonge ? 
 
 Beside this, their sacred shrine 
 
 Sleights the myrrhe of others eyne. 
 
 Then forbeare — when these grqwe drye. 
 
 We will weepe, both thou and I." 
 E[)it:iph on Isabella his wife, who died May 25, 1631 :— 
 ** My birth was in the month of May, 
 
 And in that month my nuptial day. 
 
 In May a mayde, a wife, a mother j 
 
 And now in May nor one nor other. 
 
 So flowers do flourish, so they fade ; 
 
 So things to be undone are made. 
 
 My stalk here withers ; yet there bee 
 
 Some lively branches sproute from me ;
 
 FAMILY OF POLWHELE. 7 
 
 vistock, unius Justiciar, de communi Banco." Of 
 the Judge and his lady there is a stately monu- 
 ment in Tavistock Church, and a good painting in 
 this house, of which I once saw a copy at Godol- 
 phin, now in possession, I suppose, of the Duke of 
 Leeds. 
 
 John, son of Thomas and Dionysia, married a 
 Baskerville of Dorset. He was member for Tre- 
 goney ; his colleague Sir Richard Vyvyan of Tre- 
 lowarren, Knight. In 1643 we observe this gen- 
 tleman and his relations and friends. Lord Mohun, 
 and Edgecumbe, and Glanville, and Godolphin, 
 andLower, and Killigrew, rallying round the sacred 
 person of Majesty : and, at Oxford, the magni- 
 ficent hall of Christ Church was their senate- 
 house. (See King Charles's Works, vol. II. pp. 
 375, 376—384, 385.) To his loyalty this faithful 
 senator, John Polwhele *, devoted a large part of 
 
 On which bestowe thine April rayne. 
 
 So they the livelier may remayne : 
 
 But here forbeare — for why ? 'tis sayd. 
 
 Tears fit the livinge, not the dead." 
 * There was a great intimacy between John Polwhele and the 
 grandfather of Tonkin, the Cornish historian, " My grand- 
 father (says the credulous historian) being seized with the 
 spotted fever, which carried him off July 6, 1672, and his old 
 friend John Polwhele, Esq. (who had been his fellow prisoner 
 in Pendennis Castle) dying the same night, and, as it is supposed, 
 the same moment, at his seat of Treworgan my grand- 
 father, as he was expiring, cried out three times, * Polwhele ! 
 
 Polwhele ! Polwhele !' to signify, as it were, that as they 
 
 had suffered together in this world, so they were going together 
 to partake of an eternal reward in the next. This I had both 
 from the eldest daughter of my aunt Ley, and from a servant of
 
 8 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 his patrimonial estate. His brother Degory, fel- 
 low of Exeter College, Oxford, was created M.D. 
 
 his. Will. Rickard, who were both present when he died." Ton- 
 kins MSS. penes De Dunstanville. 
 
 In 1677 we find Thomas Polwhele vicar of Newlyn. 
 
 It was in this year that Nicholas Borlase, of Treludra in 
 Newlyn, was buried, on the 9th of November. This Nicholas 
 Borlase had been colonel of horse for the King ; a title on which 
 he so much valued himself, that he inserted it, to his dying day, 
 in all his deeds. " I have heard (says Tonkin) a pleasant story 
 of him, from my father, and the old Mr, Wood of Withiel. 
 There was no good blood between him and the old Richard 
 Lord Arundel ; from their being, perhaps, too near neighbours, 
 living in the same parish, and there being no great difference in 
 their estates. Alluding to an exploit, therefore, on which he 
 valued himself, his Lordship would often hit him in the teeth 
 with " how he routed a great detachment of the Parliament 
 army with only one single troop of his regiment." — "Yes (added 
 the Lord Arundel), by running away." The fact was, the Colonel 
 being very much pressed, and making a running fight, had so 
 much presence of mind, as to set a large brake of furze on fire 
 in the night, which the parliament forces taking for the fires 
 made on the approach of the King's army, immediately fled, 
 and left him both bag and baggage, which he seized the next 
 morning. 
 
 The usurping powers would never admit Colonel Borlase to a 
 composition, but kept him out of the greatest part of his large 
 fortune, till the Restoration ; and he, with his whole family, 
 would have been reduced to beggary, but for another stratagem 
 very singular and curious. One Sunday, under a pretended mis- 
 take for another's, he placed himself in the Protector's seat ; and 
 shuffling to get out, 6n Oliver's entering it, " No, no (sa"ith 
 he), cousin Borlase ! I am glad to see you here !" (for Borlase was 
 a papist) and he kept him with him during the sermon j and, 
 withal, smelling the joke, promised him assistance, on his pre- 
 ferring a petition for a maintenance. The Protector was as good 
 as his word. Tonkins MSS. "penes De Dunstanville. 
 
 Not a relic of the Borlase, worth noticing, remains at Tre-
 
 FAMILY OF POLWHELE. 9 
 
 by that University in 1660. In the Chancellor's 
 letters for that purpose we find the following ac- 
 
 ludra. I looked for the old Treludra pippin, the parent of 
 pippins, equal, I think, in flavour to the golden ; but I found 
 the stump only of the original tree. 
 
 Amidst all the acrimony of the civil war, urbanity was a dis- 
 tinguishing feature of " the Cornish gentleman." It was more, 
 indeed, than urbanity 5 it was genuine benevolence. Tonkin 
 
 speaks thus of Lance, Esq. of Penare, in St. Clement's : 
 
 " Though a Justice of the Peace under the usurping powers, he 
 behaved himself with great civility to the distrest cavaliers, whom 
 he redressed as well as he could (as I have been informed by Mr. 
 Polvvhele, whose family owe their decay to these villainous times), 
 and was looked upon as a fine gentleman." See Tonkin's MSS. 
 in St. Clement's, penes Lord De Dunstanville. 
 
 I have said that the Cornish, in this war, were peculiarly liberal 
 in their allowance for opposing sentiments and interests. We 
 must here except the Arundels, who were so inflamed with loyal 
 zeal, that they treated even their relations on the contrary side 
 with unrelenting cruelty ; and they met with reprisals. " John 
 Arundel of Trerise, known by the name of " the old Tilbury," 
 (as having been in the camp there in 1588), or John for the King, 
 was a colonel in the King's army, and governor of Pendennis 
 Castle, whicii he bravely defended against the rebel army till 
 forced to surrender it for want of ammunition. One of his 
 daughters died in a boat on the Ore, before Truro, where the 
 family were refused admission." " A Colonel John Arundel, son 
 of old Tilbury, breaking in on the enemy's intrenchments at the 
 siege of Plymouth, in 1644, was shot dead on the spot by Captain 
 Braddon, who had the assurance to go to Trerice, and demand of 
 the old gentleman the reward given by parliament to one that 
 should kill a field-oflScer of the King's army." " The parlia- 
 ment was so exasperated against the whole family, that, deprived 
 of their whole estate, they were reduced to great distress during 
 the usurpation." Tonkin's MSS. penes Lord De Dunstanville. 
 
 " John Arundel (says Hals) had such zeal in that war, that it 
 suppressed in him all natural aff'ection. To his relation. Colonel 
 Hals, who, immured in Lidford dungeon, addressed to him a
 
 10 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 count of him : ** That he had, from the beginning 
 of the late unhappy troubles, vigorously and faith- 
 fully served his Majesty, under the command of 
 Ralph Lord Hopton, then Sir James Smith, in the 
 quality of a major of horse, and continued in 
 arms until the surrender of Pendennis Castle ; 
 from whence he went to his late Majesty of 
 blessed memory, and afterwards* followed his now 
 Majesty (Charles II.) in Holland and Flanders ; 
 and, in and about the year 1650, he returned into 
 Cornwall, his native county, where he betook him- 
 self to the study and practice of physic." See 
 IValker^s Sufferings of the Clergy, S^c. under 
 Oxford. 
 
 John, son of John of Polwhele and Treworgan, 
 married a Redinge of Northampton. His son and 
 heir, Richard of Polwhele and Treworgan (my 
 grandfather), married Collins. 
 
 Of the Polwheles Carew thus speaks: " We 
 will close this hundred with the gentlemen of 
 mark Polwhele, whose name is deduced 
 
 letter representing his sufferings, he made only this verbal answer: 
 ' that he would hasten, if possible, his deliverance from Lidford 
 jail, by a gallows execution, which he and his companions well 
 deserved'." Hals's MSS. 
 
 * The tradition is, that some of the royal family took refuge 
 at Polwhele. I cannot vouch for the truth of this j but that the 
 King and Prince Charles had a frequent intercourse with the Pol- 
 wheles at Oxford, and Boconnoc, and Truro, and Mount-Edge- 
 cumbe, 1 have royal documents to prove. (Queen Henrietta, 
 passing through Cornwall, was assisted on her way by one or two 
 of our family, to whom she presented (it is said) her miniature 
 picture.
 
 FAMILY OF POLWHELE. 11 
 
 from his dwelling, and his dwelling may be inter- 
 preted the miry work ; linked in wedlock with the 
 coheir of Trencreek, in English the town of the 
 borough. His mother was Lower of Trelask. 
 Polwhele beareth Sable, a saltier engrailed Erm." 
 To which Tonkin subjoins : "I think Polwhele 
 should rather signify ' the top of the work,' ac- 
 cording to the situation of the place, it lying high. 
 This place gave name to a family of very great an- 
 tiquity, which flourished here before the conquest ; 
 about which time they were so eminent, that Drew 
 de Polwhele was Chamberlain to WilHam the Con- 
 queror's Queen (it should be Maud the Empress). 
 Ever since the said Drew, they have lived in much 
 esteem in this their ancient habitation, till Degory 
 P. on his marriage with Catlierine, daughter of 
 Trencreek, removed to Treworgan. The present 
 possessor, Richard P. Esq. was Sheriff of Cor/?it;a// 
 9th of Geo. I. This family were forced to sell 
 a large part of their estate for their loyalty to 
 Charles I." See Lord De Dunstanville*s Carew, 
 p. 338. The Polwhele crests are, " ablackmoor's 
 head, with an olive-branch in its mouth," and a 
 " bull Gules, with horns Or.'' The Polwhele motto, 
 " Charena whelas Charena." 
 
 Richard was High Sheriff of the county of 
 Cornwall in the reign of George I. He married 
 Mary, sister of that learned divine, Edward Col- 
 lins, Vicar of St. Erth and Breage, and of John 
 Collins (of Penhellick), who married Miss Basset, 
 aunt to the present Lord De Dunstanville of 
 Tehidy Park. Thomas, son of Richard Polwhele,
 
 12 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 " married (says Gilbert*) Mary, daughter of R. 
 Thomas, alderman of Truro, by whom he had 
 issue 'Richard, Mary, and Grace. Grace, a child 
 of uncommon intellect, and a sweetness of temper 
 the most engaging, died at eleven years of age. 
 Mary is resident at Bath. Richard, author of the 
 histories of Devon and Cornwall, is the present 
 representative of the family." "The above-men- 
 tioned Thomas Polwhcle, Esq. was a gentleman 
 much respected and esteemed both in public and 
 private life, for his sound judgment, impartiality, 
 and integrity, as well as for the urbanity of his 
 manners and benevolence of his heart. By his 
 noble relation, Edgecumbe of Mount Edgecumbe, 
 he was presented with a sword, in 174-5, which he 
 had no sooner drawn against the Rebels, than their 
 defeat at the battle of Culloden restored it to its 
 sheath ; and, as deputy-lieutenant, &c. &c. he was 
 equally inclined to serve his country. Much, 
 however, is it to be regretted, that his severe lot 
 was, seclusion from that society to which those 
 abilities, and that disposition, might have been so 
 highly beneficial ; as the gout, to which he died 
 an early victim, long chained him to his couch. 
 It was there his exemplary fortitude and resigna- 
 tion were witnessed by many, who still survive to 
 lament how rare, at this moment, are such truly 
 christian virtues.'* 
 
 *' The present manor-house (says Lysons) is now 
 enlarging for the family residence -j-." 
 
 * See Gilbert's Hiit. Survey, &c. vol. II. p. 240. 
 I See Lysons's Cornwall, p. 60.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 13 
 
 With these glances at the pedigree of the Pol- 
 wlieles 1 must close this Section ; not stopping to 
 particularize such intermarriages as would display 
 their alliance with the distinguished houses of 
 Carminow, Mohun, Edgecumbe, Arundel, and 
 Dunstanville. 
 
 Section II. 
 
 Letters of Charles the Second ; Cromwell; Fair- 
 fax ; Basset; Waller; Edgecumbe. 
 
 Letter from E. Edgecumbe Esq. to the ivorshipful 
 John Polwhele, Esq. * 
 
 Lincoln's Inne, January 7, 1637. 
 
 ik. -ik -ik -^ -ik -^ -^ 
 
 •Tv* "A* "ff" TT TT -ff- ^ 
 
 #^ ^ ^ ^ ji, j^ 
 
 ■«* TV "Iv ^ ^ TP 
 
 Parson Harrison, who was indicted in the King's 
 Bench on Monday, was fined ^5000 to the King, 
 
 * In a MS volume of Poems, by John Polwhele, I find an 
 elegy on the death of his honoured friend, Richard Edgcumbe 
 of Bodrugart, Esq. (January 1655), full of conceits : but a pleasing 
 
 vein of tenderness runs through It. 
 
 ******** 
 
 " Keepe perfecte peace in mine owne conscience. 
 Be kinde as love, harmlesse as innocence, 
 Beare all with patience, malice can impose, 
 Counting myselfe a gainer while 1 lose.
 
 14 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 and was tliis day presented to all the Covirts in 
 Westminster, with a paper in his hat signifying liis 
 offence ; and though he were ordered by the Court 
 to read his submission, which was drawne up in 
 writing, yett his stowtenes would not give him 
 heart to read that parte which concerned his of- 
 fence against the judge. He was afterwards car- 
 ried back to the King's Bench ; and what will be 
 
 Then ! not till then shall I be qualifyed 
 To guesse at whatt He did before he dyed." 
 
 ******* 
 
 " How did ideas of pure spirit rest 
 On him, to keepe a sabbath in his brest — 
 A little Heaven!" 
 
 " Humilitye enogh was in that man 
 To dwarfe the sons of Anak to a span. 
 How like a falcon — gentle, when most high. 
 Would seeme but verye little to the eye !" 
 ******* 
 
 His lines on Sir John Elliot, who died a prisoner in the Tower 
 of London, in 1632, shew uncommon candour, as his political 
 sentiments by no means corresponded with Eliot's, 
 
 " Heer a musitian lyes, whose well-tuned tongue 
 Was great Apollo's harpe, soe sweetly strunge. 
 That every cadence was on haimonye, 
 Noe crotchets in his musicke ! onlye hee 
 Charmed the attentive burgesses alonge, 
 Ledde by the eares to listen to his songe. 
 ******** 
 
 " For innocence, sad widdoweS;, orphan's teares, 
 (The dumbe petitioners of unfeigned feares) 
 How smoothlye could thine eloquence alone 
 Create a helpinge pittie where was none." 
 
 ******** 
 
 Jo. PoLW.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 15 
 
 the issue of this his contempt, I know not. The 
 Judge is left at Hberty to right himselfe, by taking 
 his legail course against him. Sir Richard Wise- 
 man received his doom in the Starre-chamber 
 yesterday, where he was fined ^10,000 to the 
 King, ^5000 to my Lord Keeper, ^1000 to Mr. 
 Justice Jones, and ^500 to Mr. Tompson. He 
 is to be degraded from his Baronettship, to stand 
 in the pilory, and to lose his ears ! I pray you 
 would be pleased to acquaint Mrs. Baskerville 
 that her cause in Chancery was heard on Monday, 
 where she came off with victory, without loss of 
 much blood. 
 
 Mr. Polwhele is now well recovered of his hurt 
 taken by his fall, which was not without much 
 danger. I desire to be reckoned among those 
 who will be alwaies ready to doe you service, &c. 
 &c. E. Edgcumbe. 
 
 Sir William Waller to Sir Ralph Hopton *. 
 
 Sir, Bath, June 16, 1643. 
 
 The experience I have had of your worth, and 
 the happiness I have enjoyed in your friendship, 
 are wounding considerations, when I look upon 
 the present distance between us. Certainly my 
 affections to you are so unchangeable, that hos- 
 tility itself cannot violate my friendship to your 
 person ; but I must be true to the cause wherein I 
 
 * From the Prideaux MSS. at Place, Padstow. .
 
 16 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 serve. The old limitation, usque ad aras, holds 
 still ; and, where my conscience is interested, all 
 other obligations are swallowed up. 
 
 I should most gladly wait on you, according to 
 your desire, but that I look on you, engaged as 
 you are in that party, beyond a possibility of re- 
 treat, and, consequently, incapable of being 
 wrought upon by any persuasions ; and I know 
 the conference would never be so close between 
 us, but that it would take fire, and receive a con- 
 struction to my dishonour. 
 
 That great God, who is the searcher of my 
 heart, knows with what reluctance I go upon this 
 service, and with what a perfect hatred I look upon 
 a war without an enemy. But I look upon it as 
 opus Domini, and that is enough to silence all 
 passion in me. The God of Peace in His good 
 time send us peace ! and in the mean time fit us 
 to receive it. 
 
 We are both on the stage, and we must act the 
 parts that are assigned us in this tragedy. Let us 
 do it in a way of honour, and without personal 
 animosities. But, whatever be the issue, I shall 
 not willingly relinquish the dear title of your af- 
 fectionate friend and faithful servant, 
 
 W. Waller. 
 
 To my noble friend. 
 
 Sir Ralph Hopton, at Wales.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 1? 
 
 Francis Basset to his IFife, after the news of the 
 victory of Stratton. 
 
 Truro, this 18th May 1643, 6 o'clock, ready to march. 
 Dearest Soule, 
 Oh, deare soule, prayse God everlastingly. 
 Reade this enclosed, ringe out the bells, rayse 
 bonfyres, publish these joyfuU ty dings. Believe 
 these truths, excuse my writing larger, I have no 
 tyme; wee march on to meete o"^ victorious friends, 
 and to seaze all the rebells left, if wee can finde 
 such livinge. Your dutyous prayers God hass 
 heard. Bless us accordingly, pray everlastingly, 
 and Jane, and Betty, and all you owne. Thy 
 owne, Ffrs. Basset. 
 
 Pray let my cousin Harry know these joyful 
 blessings. Send word to the ports south and 
 north, to searche narrowly for all strangers tra- 
 vellinge for passage, and cause the keepinge them 
 close and safe. 
 
 To my dearest, dearest friend, Mrs. Basset, 
 att the Mount. Speede this, haste, haste. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 This thyrd of July 1644. 
 Deare Wiffe, 
 
 M. J^ 4£. ^f, J£, 4£, M, 4^ 
 
 Here is the woefuUest spectacle my eyes yet 
 ever look'd on ; the most worne and weake piti- 
 full creature in y^ world, the poore Queene, shift-
 
 18 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ing for one hour's lifFe longer. Here is also Prince 
 Maurice, but all the soldiers are fled from us. 
 Essex is at this tyme at Barnstable, or neare it, 
 
 where there is at present greate rebellyon 
 
 Farewell sweete. Bless Tehidy. God bless us 
 ever, sweete love. The prayers off y"" 
 
 F. Bassett. 
 
 To my dearest ffriende, Mrs Bassett, at ye Mount — speede. 
 Lett the bearer hereof pass quickly to the Mount. Laun. 
 15th July 1644. F. Bassett. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Lostwithiel, Saturday— sunset — 1 644. 
 DeaRE WlFFE, 
 
 This messenger will tell you how afFayres goe 
 here and in these lande parts. Here is infinite 
 want of match. For God's sake send to Mr. 
 Lane as soon as this comes to y' hands, and 
 cause him with all speede to press horses and 
 bring away six hundred weight of match from the 
 Mount to this army, first to Lostwithiel, and thence 
 to the army, which I hope in Jesus Christ will so 
 bless us as we shall be free and merry and joyfull 
 
 againe in Cornwall My Lord Mohun 
 
 has lent me ^100. I trust my fFriend Rolle will 
 doe at least the like fFriendship ; and I am sure 
 you will procure what possibly you can. If it be 
 but sixpence, my love is just and full to y" still. 
 Pray let Jacke write to me truely what match he 
 hass in allj and I conjure you both to get as 
 much as possible to be made with all possible
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 19 
 
 haste, at what coste soever. Send to Fubbs for all 
 his oakum. I write in as much haste as ever in 
 my life. I love you and Jane, and John, and 
 Bess. God give mee good news of you all, and of 
 poore Punchc Deare hart, love still y'" own harty 
 part. F. Bassett. 
 
 I thanke Christ I am very gracious with Kinge 
 and Prince. I hope w^ all. 
 
 To Mrs. Bassett, my deare WiflFe, at her Tehidy. 
 
 The same to the same *. 
 
 Thanks to our Jesus. 
 Dearest Hartt, 
 
 L is the happy messenger to the West 
 
 of Cornwall. Peace, and I hope perpetual. Sadd 
 
 * The King at Boconnock received from his trusty Sheriff, 
 Sir Francis Bassett, Knight, the sum of ^^300, on the 4th of 
 September 1644. 
 
 Near the gate of Rookwood Grove, leading to Boconnoc-par- 
 sonage, there remains the stump of an aged oak, in which, tradi- 
 tion says, the King's standard was fixed. The upper part of the 
 tree was broken off by the wind in March 1783, about nine feet 
 above the ground. Within the memory of the oldest inha- 
 bitants of this county, it had produced scai'cely any other than 
 variegated leaves, which originally changed colour (as tradition 
 further says), from an attempt to assassinate the King while 
 receiving the sacrament under its branches, The ball is said to 
 have passed through the tree, and a hole made by the wood- 
 peckers was shewn in confirmation of the tale, which probably 
 arose from the King having been actually shot at when in the 
 hall-walk, and a fisherman killed who was gazing at him. 
 
 t (Tehidy MSS.) 
 
 C 2
 
 20 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 houses I have seen many, but a joyfuller pleasanter 
 day never than this. Sende the money, as much 
 and as soon as you can. Sende to all our fFriends 
 at home, especially, this good news. I write this 
 on my saddle. Every friend will pardon the illness 
 of it, and you chiefly, my perfect joy. 
 
 F. Bassett. 
 
 The Kinge and army march presently for Ply- 
 mouth. Jesus give the King it and all. 
 
 The King, in the hearing of thousands, as soon 
 as he saw me in y^ morning, cryed to mee '* Deare 
 M"^ Sheriffe, I leave Cornwall to you safe and 
 sound.'* 
 
 To my Lady Bassett, at her Tehidy, joyfull. 
 After the success near Lostwithiel. 
 
 Prince Charles to Rashleigh, Polwhele, and 
 Saule. 
 
 After our hearty comendacons, in pursuance of 
 our order of the 5th of this instant, seconded by 
 lett"^ to you of the 15*\ inasmuch as by reason of 
 some accidents since happened the enemy is ap- 
 proached nearer to this our Dutchy, for the re- 
 pelling of whome we have raised the posse comi- 
 tatus to be summoned by the H. Sheriffe j theis are 
 to desire and require you to redouble y^ diligence 
 for the speedy getting up to the army all the 
 trayned men, stragling souldgers, and others 
 within the hundred of Powder, who are expected 
 to advance upon this occasion ; in the effecting
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 21 
 
 whereof you will doe a very speciall good service 
 to o"" Royall Father, to o*" Self, and to yo' Country. 
 And so, nothing doubting of yo^ ready execution 
 hereof, we bid you heartily farewell. Given at 
 our Court at Truro, ye 24 of February l645. 
 
 Charles P. 
 
 You are frequently to advertise both us and the 
 Lord Hopton of y*" proceedings herein. 
 
 Superscription. — To Mr. Rashleigh, Mr. Polwheele, and Mr. 
 Saule, and to every or any of them. (Post haste — Post haste.) 
 
 For His Royall Highness's special service. Ric. Fanshawe. 
 
 Fairfax (in behalf of J Oim Polwhele, Esq.) 
 
 To the Officers and Soldiers under y command. 
 
 These are to require you, on sight hereof, to 
 forbeare to prejudice John Pol wheel e, Esq. of 
 Treworgan, in the county of Cornwall, either by 
 plundering his house, or takeing away his horses, 
 sheepe, or other cattell or goods ; or by oflPering 
 any violence to his person, or the person of any 
 of his familie, as you will answer to the contrarie ; 
 provided hee bee obedient to all orders and ordi- 
 nances of Parliament. Given under my hand and 
 scale at Truro, this 18th day of March 1645. 
 
 Fairfax.
 
 22 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Letter from Cromwell to Co/owe/ Ciely, at Pen- 
 dennis Castle. 
 
 December 10, 1645. Teverton. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Its the desier of S"" Gilbert Pickeringe, that his 
 deceased brother, Col. Pickeringe, should bee 
 enterred in your guarrison ; and to the end his 
 funeral may bee soUemnized with as much honor 
 as his memorie calls for, you are desired to give 
 all possible assistance therein ; the particulars will 
 be offered to you by his Major, Major Gubbs, with 
 whome I desier you to concurr herein ; and be- 
 lieve itt, Sir, you will not only lay a huge obliga- 
 tion upon myselfe, and all the officers of this 
 armie, but I dare assure you the General himselfe 
 will take it for an especial favor, and will not lett 
 it goe without a full acknowledgment. But what 
 neede I prompt him to soe honorable an action, 
 whose owne ingenuitye wil be argument sufficient 
 heerin. Whereof rests assured your humble ser- 
 vant, Oliver Cromwell *. 
 
 * The original is among the family papers of the Rev. G. 
 Moore, of Grampound. 
 
 " At St. Ives, during the interregnum, lived Major Thomas 
 'Ceeley, a decimator and secjuesti-ator of the royal party's lands, 
 goods, and chattels at that time, but deputy under Major General 
 Desborough, one of those fifteen Major Generals, wlio had the 
 gubernation of all the counties of England, as Desborough had 
 of Cornwall ; in which post Mr. Ceely got a great estate out of 
 the King's and Church lands, and was so topping and magisterial 
 therein, that imperatively he swayed the country's dominion, and
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 23 
 
 Letter from Charles II. to the Earl of Norwich. 
 
 Paris, Oct, 5, 1652. 
 
 My Lord Norwich, 
 I have receaved your letter of the 26 of the 
 last ; and though I will not say you are sullen, I 
 may tell you, that you are misinformed in many 
 particulers, w*"'' gives you more trouble than the 
 knowledge of the truth would doe. I assure I 
 can never in the least degree suspecte your affec- 
 tion to me, of w'''' you have alwaies given so good 
 testimony ; and you shall have as little reson ever 
 to doubte my kindnes to you ; nor hath any thing 
 bene proposed from you to me w'^'' I have not given 
 that answer w*''' I conceaved fittest for my affaires. 
 For the differences betwene my sister and the 
 pcesse Dowager, you know my mynd, and how 
 much I am troubled for there and my owne sake, 
 as haveing a great share of sufferinge by it ; and I 
 wish with all my harte that you could doe good 
 offices betweene them, and dispose them both to 
 such a union, that our common enemyes may gett 
 no more advantage from those contests ; and you 
 may lett the P<^esse Dowager know how exceed- 
 ingly I desire it, and how much I would take 
 myselfe beholding to her for any complyance and 
 indulgence on her parte ; and if you advise me 
 
 therefore was commonly in derision called ' The King of the 
 West' But after the Restoration, being deprived of his office 
 and estate, he lived a poor man in the Sheriffs wards — a prisoner 
 for debt at Bodmin." Uals's MS. in St. Ives.
 
 24 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 what I may doe in order thereunto, will gladly 
 perfortne it. 
 
 I am as willing to be gone from hence as you 
 can be to see me in any such place ; and I wish 
 you could name any other place to me where you 
 have reason to believe I shall be welcome, and find 
 my meanes to subsist. I have no minde to be 
 idle ; and if you can advise me how I may be 
 doeing, I shall thanke you, and follow your coun- 
 cell ; and doe any thing to confirme you, that I 
 am your constant affectionate friend, 
 
 Charles R. 
 
 For the Earle of Norwich *. 
 
 * A neat autograph of the King. Sealed with an elegant 
 little impression of the royal arms.
 
 25 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 — — 
 
 Section I. 
 
 Notices, Biographical and Critical. 
 
 I am now come down to the period of ** Recol- 
 lections," that more immediately concerns the 
 present generation. For myself, be it understood, 
 that, in quoting panegyric, " non de meo, sed de 
 meorum judicio loquor ; qui, sive judicant, sive 
 errant, me delectant *." And here I first open a 
 volume of " The Public Characters," where the 
 report of me bears on its front the stamp of im- 
 partiality. The writer is perfectly unknown to 
 me. Like the satyr, indeed, he seems '' to blow 
 hot and cold with the same breath ;" yet I have 
 escaped wonderfully well, from a person writing 
 under the auspices of Sir R. Phillips, whose poli- 
 tics and mine are so much at variance, and who 
 was fully apprized of my connexion with the Anti- 
 Jacobin Review, and its magnanimous supporter 
 
 * Plin. Epist. 1. vii. Epist. 4.
 
 26 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Mr. Whitaker, — no friend to the Monthly Maga- 
 zine. 
 
 " Mr. Polwhele, the son of Thomas Polwhele 
 of Polwhele, Esq. was born in the year I76O, and 
 received his education at Truro School, under the 
 Rev. Dr. Cardew. Here he evinced the early pro- 
 mise of a rising genius, and wrote some poetical 
 pieces far beyond the usual productions of boys 
 of the same age. Two of these were published in 
 a quarto size, even whilst he was at school, namely, 
 '' The Fate of Lewellyn, or the Druid's Sacrifice ;" 
 and " The Genius of Karnbre." The last piece 
 is an ingenious flight of poetical enthusiasm, com- 
 posed on a romantic hill near Redruth, called 
 Karnbre. This spot has also been consecrated 
 by an ode, the composition of Dr. Wolcot, who 
 greatly favoured the aspiring genius of young Pol- 
 whele while at Truro School, and assisted him in 
 his classical studies. It is to the Doctor's honour, 
 that two such ornaments of their country as our 
 Poet and Opie the painter, should have been as- 
 sisted by his judgment and taste *." 
 
 It is true that I was " born in I76O '* (on the 
 6th of January), not at Polwhele, but at Truro, 
 during a short residence of the family there whilst 
 the country-house was repairing. Sent to the 
 Truro grammar-school at an early age, my first 
 playfellows and companions in the Accidence were 
 Gregor and Williams ; the former well known as 
 a representative in parliament of his native county, 
 
 * Public Characters, 1802, 1S03, p. 265.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. ^ 
 
 the latter as a European merchant. Under the 
 auspices of Mr. Conon (whose memory is revered 
 by all who have respect for learning and religion), 
 Truro School became a distinguished seat of edu- 
 cation. The principal gentlemen of Cornwall re- 
 ceived not only the first rudiments of learning 
 there, but were instructed for the Universities ; 
 and some who were afterwards conspicuous as 
 men of wit and talents, were indebted to Mr. 
 Conon for their knowledge of the ancient lan- 
 guages. Of this number was Sam. Foote, the 
 comedian. There Foote was initiated in Terence's 
 plays, and in acting his part excelled (as may be 
 imagined) his schoolfellows ; and it was in conse- 
 quence of his success within this little circle that 
 he caught the theatrical manner, and entered as 
 an actor on the London stage, — a circumstance 
 which occasioned to Mr. Conon great uneasiness, 
 and determined him to fling away the sock, or 
 rather to discontinue the acting of the plays of 
 Terence ; for a good master, I believe, would con- 
 sider the education of his boys without Terence 
 as miserably defective. With respect to " the 
 acting," Mr. Conon's was rigid morality, and in 
 many it would have appeared ridiculous ; but it 
 by no means appeared so in a character whose 
 chief feature was Christian simplicity. Mr. Conon, 
 however, was always on good terms with Foote, 
 who once (when T was present, then about nine 
 years old) entered the school unceremoniously, 
 and, advancing on his wooden leg, dismissed the 
 boys without the least previous address to the
 
 28 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 master. As it is the object of this scrap-book to 
 speak of others rather than of myself, and when- 
 ever any person of distinction is presented to no- 
 tice, to endeavour to amuse my readers with some 
 anecdotes of his character or conversation, I shall 
 not dismiss Sam. Foote from our school-room so 
 hastily as he dismissed us, but fix him there by a 
 stroke of the poetic wand, between the two Co- 
 rinthian columns, under ihe figure of Mercury, 
 whilst I recollect a few of his odd originalities. 
 
 The son of Samuel Foote, Esq. and Eleanor his 
 wife ; he was baptized in the parish church of 
 St. Mary's, Truro, Jan. 27, 17^0, by Joseph Jane, 
 Rector, as appears from the Truro register of 
 baptisms, which I sometime since consulted. 
 Foote was not born at the Red Lion (that first- 
 rate inn of the West of England) as all his biogra- 
 phers have told us, for the Red Lion was the pro- 
 perty of Henry Foote, another branch of the fa- 
 mily ; but he was born at a house commonly 
 known by the name of Johnson Vivian's. I well 
 remember his person — about the middle size; 
 rather clumsily made, with a broad fleshy face, 
 and a certain archness in his eye, which at once 
 proclaimed him the genuine humourist. There 
 are several prints of him, both in his dramatic and 
 private character ; the most perfect of which is 
 the French print published immediately after one 
 of his trips from Paris, and which is prefixed to 
 Cook's Memoirs. Though Foote seldom favored 
 his native town with a visit, yet there are still 
 many in Truro who have a perfect recollection of
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 29 
 
 iiim, and one or two, I believe, who were laughing 
 witnesses to his jokes. Those, however, are gone, 
 who used in his presence to mix trembling with 
 their mirth. Conscious of some oddnesses in their 
 appearance or character, they shrunk from his sly 
 observation. They knew that every civility, every 
 hospitable attention, could not save them from 
 his satire ; and, after such experience, they natu- 
 rally avoided his company, instead of courting 
 it. This argued in Foote a disingenuousness, of 
 which Dr. Wolcot (of whom I shall soon speak) 
 was never guilty. Foote, indeed, had no restraint 
 upon himself, with respect either to his conversa- 
 tion or his conduct. He was, in every sense of 
 the word, a libertine. One of the earliest in- 
 stances of his jocularity, as practised upon his 
 father " the old justice," is yet in the minds of 
 several aged people of his neighbourhood. Imi- 
 tating the voice of Mr. Nicholas Donnithorne, 
 from an inner apartment where his father had sup- 
 posed Mr. D. was sitting, he drew his father into 
 conversation on the subject of a family transaction 
 between the two old gentlemen ; and thus pos- 
 sessed himself of a secret, which, whilst it dis- 
 played his mimickry, justly incurred his parent's 
 displeasure. He was certainly a very unamiable 
 character. Polly Hicks, a pretty silly simpering 
 girl (as a veteran memorialist of Truro described 
 her to me), was dazzled by his wit. She had some 
 property ; he therefore made her his wife, but 
 never treated her as such. Of his jokes, the fol- 
 lowing is in print : I repeat it for the sake of its
 
 30 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 parallel. " Dibble Davis, one of Foote's butts in 
 ordinary, dining with him one day at Northend, 
 observed, that, well as he loved porter, he could 
 never drink it without a head." '• That must be 
 a mistake. Dibble,'* returned his host, " as you 
 have done so to my knowledge above these twenty 
 years *." Similar to this was a witticism which I 
 once heard at the Truro Catch Club, from the 
 mouth of Bennet, the late organist of Truro, who 
 was acquainted with Foote, but was too original a 
 humourist to be guilty of a plagiarism or a par- 
 rotism. A gentleman in company was complain- 
 ing of " a tumour on his neck, which had been 
 long gathering ;" " Yes (says Bennet), many 
 years ; but it will never, I fear, come to a head." 
 Not so good as this is a pun of Foote, which a gen- 
 tleman who sat next him in Truro Church re- 
 peated to me. The first lesson related to Noah : 
 " Are these the words of No-ah ?" Said Foote, 
 " Ah-No !" But during the service several better 
 things dropped from this profane jester, which I 
 have forgotten. Of the characters in Foote's 
 Plays I was acquainted with several of the proto- 
 types, particularly in " The Mayor of Garratt f ;" 
 but I will not give offence to their children by the 
 
 * Cooke's Life, II. 84, 
 
 ■f " The Mayor of Garratt " was intended to ridicule some 
 particular characters in the militia, not then so respectable as 
 the militia of the present hour. In Major Sturgeon we have a 
 simple fishmonger apeing all the gallantries of a lover and a 
 soldier. The heroes of our volunteer companies have at this 
 day, indeed, some resemblance to the Major ; they spring in
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 31 
 
 disclosure of their names. I possess a tract which 
 was once Footers. It has the stamp of his name 
 in gold letters. Its title, " The Man of Manners, 
 or the Plebeian Polished ;" to which, perhaps, 
 many of Foote's witticisms (interspersed through 
 his play) may be traced. There is some humour 
 in *' The Manner of a City Family's sitting at 
 Dinner ;" " Rules recommended to Preachers ;" 
 " The Irishman's Caution and Modesty in refusing 
 to look at the Corpse of a Dead Man, on account 
 of his having a stinking Breath when living ;" 
 and " A Verbal Encounter between two Ladies 
 that deal in fresh Cod and live Lobsters." 
 
 general from as low an origin, and aflfect as ridiculously the 
 
 military gait and manners. 
 
 " Late, too, the Colonel of a troop he shone. 
 To military tactics mighty prone ; 
 And fond his warrior-genius to display. 
 As mock-fights glitter'd to the beams of day. 
 Oft from his high-plumed steed the field harangued, 
 Or fiercely rush'd where bloodless armour clang'd ! 
 See, at his beck, young Pug the pestle quit. 
 Whilst maladies or cease or intermit ; 
 And at the word heigh-presto ! heigh-begone ! 
 Old Jack the grocer start up Captain John ; 
 And Ensign Bob, dismissing all the clerk. 
 His parchments pale abandon with a jerk : 
 Nor more the slippery brethren of the quill, 
 'Midst shrivel'd deeds, in sunless holes, sit still. 
 But to their recent coats attention win. 
 As each, a sleek young serpent, casts his skin. 
 Kindling in burnisht glory, glides along. 
 And brandishes abroad his double tongue." 
 
 CSee Poems in three vols. — vol. II. p. l'26.J 
 Cadell and Davies, 1806. 
 
 I
 
 S^ TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Conon (we observed) was Master of the Truro 
 School. This venerable man retiring to Padstow, 
 was succeeded by Cardew, to whose judicious me- 
 thod of reading portions from the English clas- 
 sics to his scholars may be attributed that early 
 taste for poetical composition, which to more 
 than one of them has afforded refreshment amidst 
 weariness, and comfort amidst trouble and vexa- 
 tions. A translation into English verse, from a 
 Latin classic, or from the Psalms into Latin verse, 
 was the Saturday evening's exercise of our class ; 
 and by the assistance of Wolcot, physician at 
 Truro, I was enabled to excel my fellows in Eng- 
 lish. In the Latin versions, Wolcot sometimes 
 tried his hand, but preferred the English. Ac- 
 companying me from Truro to Polwhele, he would 
 often applaud the facility with which I perfected 
 my task, and at the same time approve the exe- 
 cution of it. Yet neither from the Master nor 
 the Poet had I such an incentive to perseverance 
 as from the fond Parent, who, pleased with those 
 puerile essays, was always happy in exhibiting 
 them within the friendly circle. To Mr. Penrose, 
 in particular (Vicar of Gluvias), my father intro- 
 duced me, with a school-exercise from the Book 
 of Job in his hand; when I remember the transi- 
 tion from poetry to editorial learning (in which 
 that reverend gentleman was deeply versed) was 
 not the most agreeable to the school-boy. But I 
 was delighted with Mason's edition of Gray, which 
 I first saw in the library at Gluvias. After having
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 33 
 
 mentioned the name of Penrose, it would shew a 
 perfect indifference to talents and virtues of the 
 first order, not to add, that the children and grand- 
 children of the worthy Rector are now reflecting 
 honour on their country from various points, in 
 various attitudes ; all quick in intelligence, sound 
 in judgment, polished in taste, amiable in dis- 
 position, correct in morality, and strict in religion. 
 Trevenen " linked in wedlock " with Penrose, 
 hath an equal claim to this just panegyric. Of a 
 numerous family, I know not one exception. 
 What a noble contrast to some houses of our Eng- 
 lish gentry, whose only boast is their opulence, 
 but on whom, degraded or depressed by crime, 
 and trouble the result of crime, their riches seem 
 to fling " a cruel sunshine." 
 
 With the Vicar of Gluvias Dr. Wolcot had, I be- 
 lieve, but a slight acquaintance. He was pleased, 
 however, with Mr. Penrose's attention to my first 
 poetical sallies ; among which was a version of 
 Rapin's Ode to the cicada. 
 
 To introduce the Doctor to my readers in due 
 form, may be unnecessary; but here, if any where, 
 I should state, that Dr. John W. was born at 
 Dodbrooke * in Devon, about the year I74O. It 
 
 * At the south end of the town, on the west sitle of the street, 
 and on the east shore of the estuary, which approaches Kings- 
 bridge, is an ancient house with gardens, which for many gene- 
 rations belonged to the Wolcots. Here was Dr. W. born 3 and 
 so fond had he always appeared of the place, that for sevei'al 
 years he talked of re-building it for his own residence. Some 
 years ago he went so far as to have a plan and estimate of the 
 
 D
 
 34 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 is commonly reported, that he received his school 
 education at Kingsbridge, under a Quaker, and 
 that he went from Kingsbridge to France to com- 
 plete his studies. I am greatly mistaken if I have 
 not heard him say, that he was placed in his child- 
 hood under the care of his uncle at Fawey in this 
 county, and sent at a proper age to Leskeard 
 school, when Hayden was its Master ; and that 
 he was afterwards removed to Bodmin school, 
 where he owed part of his scholarship to the Rev. 
 Mr. Fisher. His uncle was a surgeon-apothecary 
 of character, and a single man ; to whom young 
 Wolcot returned, with the view - of succeeding 
 him in business. Such, at least, appears to have 
 been his uncle's wish. But Wolcot was too early 
 attached to the fine arts to submit to compound 
 drugs in a little sea-port town. To the Muses he 
 had already begun to sacrifice. I cannot fix the 
 date of that plaintive song, one of the sweetest of 
 Jackson's Melodies — 
 
 " How long shall hapless Colin mourn 
 The cold regard of Delia's eye," &,c. ; 
 
 but I know that Wolcot's Delia was no imaginary 
 mistress. His Delia was Miss Coryton, one of 
 the Crocadon family, with whom he became ac- 
 quainted during his residence at Fawey. There, 
 
 expence } but at length he fchanged his intention, and in 1795 
 disposed of the fee to the Kev. Nathaniel Wells, who has since 
 built (as 1 have heard) a neat house there. In honour of the 
 Poet, the neighbourhood good humouredly called it " Pindar- 
 Hall."
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 55 
 
 also, he discovered his genius for drawing. In 
 1769, Sir William Trelawney, of Trelawney, Bart, 
 was appointed Governor of Jamaica ; when Wol- 
 cot, a distant relation of Trelawney, attended 
 him to that island. On his voyage thither he 
 wrote some fine descriptive sonnets. At Jamaica 
 he commenced surgeon ; but he was still dis- 
 posed to cultivate the art of poetry more than the 
 art of medicine. From his " Persian Love Ele- 
 gies " of that period, I could extract many beau- 
 tiful passages. " The Nymph of Taui'is" (which 
 may be found in the Annual Register for 1773) 
 was Anne Trelawney *, who died in Jamaica. 
 The Elegies have more merit than Collins's Per- 
 sian Eclogues, inasmuch as they characterize 
 Eastern manners and moralities, and express pas- 
 sion and sentiment as an orientalist would express 
 them. A valuable living in Jamaica now happen- 
 ing to fall vacant, drew Wolcot's attention to the 
 church ; and he came, we are told, to England 
 for institution ; but the Bishop of London refused 
 ^' to admit him (it is said) on account of his prerna^ 
 ture assumption of the clerical office." He had be- 
 gun " to act the parson" immediately as the living 
 fell vacant. Thus disappointed, he resumed his 
 original profession, was dubbed M.D. and stepped 
 
 * According to the Doctor's report, Anne Trelawney was un- 
 commonly credulous. Wolcot used to tell a slory of a cherub 
 (caught one evening on the Blue Mountains), which was put 
 into a cage with a parrot. Before the morning, the parrot had 
 picked out the eyes of the poor cherub. This the Lady received, 
 on the Doctor's credit, as an indisputable fact. 
 
 D 2 
 
 I
 
 36 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 at once into good practice at Truro. As to his 
 clerical pretensions, he was always reserved. He 
 once, I remember, was asked to repeat grace be- 
 fore dinner, w^iich he did with some hesitation ; 
 but in another company very soon after declined 
 saying grace : so that at first he was a sort of 
 amphibious being. Here, then, commenced my 
 personal acquaintance with him. And I can say 
 with truth (for I could wish to steer with impar- 
 tiality between the reports of his censurers and 
 admirers), that he had the credit not only of a 
 skilful, but of a benevolent physician. In fevers, 
 he was uncommonly successful. In some cases 
 within my knowledge he suffered his patients to 
 drink cold water, which other medical men would 
 then have deemed fatal. From consumption many 
 were rescued by his hand, who had been given up 
 as irrecoverable. As a physician he prescribed 
 medicines ; but he did more : he examined them, 
 not trusting to the apothecary ; and sometimes 
 detected with indignation a cheap medicine sub- 
 stituted for a costly one. He was thus no fa- 
 vourite with the apothecaries or druggists of the 
 place ; but his merit, bearing all before it, shewed 
 the impotence of their resentment. And here I 
 should not omit (as it is connected with his poe- 
 try) a visit to my grandmother Polwhele during 
 her last ilhiess, which had more of social plea- 
 santry than of medical gravity. On the verge of 
 85, and reduced very low from weakness, she re- 
 tained her natural cheerfulness and good humour. 
 About a week before her death, whilst Wolcot
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 37 
 
 sat by her bedside, " all is well (said she) but for 
 the crumbs under me ; they are so hard ; boil 
 them, and it would do," said she, smiling. 
 " Come, I'll tell you a story. She then told 
 the story of " the Pilgrim and the Peas." Wol- 
 cot seized the idea, and we all know with what 
 felicity he afterwards turned it to his poetical 
 advantage *. 
 
 Wolcot disliked his profession. He was always 
 a sensualist ; but his chief luxury was music and 
 painting. His market bills were very inconsider- 
 able. A single domestic Vv'as, day after day, the 
 solitary inhabitant of his house on the bowling- 
 green ; and (Mr. Daniell's tenant) he held the 
 premises, I believe, rent free, through the liber- 
 ality of that good old gentleman. When vacant 
 from business, the wit and pleasantry of Wolcot's 
 conversation would always render him a M^elcome 
 visitor at Ihe houses of all his acquaintance in 
 Truro and the neighbourhood ; and at that time 
 there was a much more hospitable disposition, a 
 much more social intercourse among the people 
 of Truro, than at the present day. Mr. Daniell's, 
 indeed, was the house to which our poet chiefly 
 resorted. There he was usually to be found, and 
 was never considered as an intruder ; and in Mr. 
 Daniell he saw with gratitude (for he had grati- 
 tude) a second Allen. To my father, too, he 
 
 * What a beautiful death was hers ! " O that I could die 
 such a death," said my father ; and, at her funeral, he exclaimed 
 repeatedly, " Pompa mortis magis terret quam mors ipsa!"
 
 38 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 was not unacceptable, as an accidental visitor * ; 
 though, tremblingly alive as that honoured parent 
 was, to every insinuation of an irreligious ten- 
 dency, there v/as oftentimes such a mutual distrust 
 between both, as to check the Doctor's lively sal- 
 lies, and, from the experience of former feelings, 
 render my father fearful of what was to come, in 
 proportion to the vivacity of wit, which was grow- 
 ing more and more familiar every moment, or 
 taking a more licentious range. Yet Wolcot was 
 fond of my father's company ; from frequenting 
 it was induced to think seriously; and, had he 
 more frequented it, would have become, perhaps, 
 not only almost, but altogether a Christian. But 
 it were better to advert to his poetry. I remem- 
 ber my father's expressing his approbation of 
 Wolcot's " Ode to the Genius of Great Britain." 
 It was a beautiful ode, the stanza of which I soon 
 after adopted in a little poem, entitled, *' The 
 Genius of Karnbre," — a mountain in Cornwall. 
 Wolcot, indeed, had, a few days before, read to 
 me some stanzas on Karnbre, of which I retained 
 but a faint recollection. This was in 1776, when 
 
 * Among other visitors were the Giddys : and I remember in 
 Davies Giddy (now Gilbert), at Pohvhele, such indications of 
 genius as are seldom discoverable in a child. So occupied (at 
 one time) was his attention during dinner, by a print (I think) 
 of the death of General Wolfe, that he laid down his knife and 
 fork, and ate nothing. At a Truro sessions, not long afterwards 
 (accompanying his father, as he always did from early childhood), 
 he astonished the bench by the quickness and correctness of some 
 arithmetical calculations.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. ^^9 
 
 the Doctor was heard, half jestingly, to complain 
 to my master, that I had assailed his mountain and 
 carried it by storm ; and, in language less sublime, 
 he charged me with having committed a trespass 
 on his grounds, and ludicrously threatened me 
 with an action. 
 
 It was in IJjG that Wolcot was called in to a 
 beloved sister, who had been seized with a sudden 
 stupor, and died after a week's illness, notwith- 
 standing all his efforts, and those of Dr. Gould, 
 then resident at St. Austel, now at Truro. Both 
 physicians, though unable to define her disease, 
 entertained hopes of her recovery ; particularly 
 Wolcot, of whom my father's high opinion was 
 much shaken, after his protestation, the day only 
 before her death, that she was in no danger. " I 
 vow to God I see no danger !" said he : it was 
 very seldom, however, that the Doctor thus com- 
 mitted himself. To the memory of that sister, 
 even now, I drop a tear — 
 
 *' She, too, congenial raind ! she, too, is gone, 
 
 Whose cherub features yet the scene endear ; 
 She, whom a brother's love with pride shall own, 
 
 As long as love shall heave the sigh sincere! 
 
 Thy lively voice yet vibrates in my ear. 
 While on thy favourite crocus' golden hue, 
 
 Thy lily's tender tint, I drop a tear; 
 While I again salute, as life were new, 
 Thy garden's southern hedge, where peeped the hare- 
 bell blue. 
 
 Yes! where those lilacs flaunt their vagrant shade, 
 With thee I seem to haste, as once we hied,
 
 40 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 To the trim spot, and wield my careless spade. 
 And plant thy roots the sunny fence beside, 
 And prop thy hyacinths, thy tulip's pride; 
 
 Or listen to thy wood-notes clear and sweet ; 
 And bid thy gentle redbreast there abide — 
 
 Poor cheerless bird ! — methinks thy form to meet, 
 
 Still hopping o'er each print that marks thy little feet! 
 
 'Twas there the blackbird built his early nest, 
 
 Neat artist ! plastering its pale moss with clay, 
 And, 'mid the yet unblossom'd hawthorn blest, 
 
 Swell'd to the morning light his sprightly lay. 
 
 And there, while fleecy clouds sank west away, 
 Thy own melodious robin pour'd her throat, 
 
 Nor ceas'd, tho' all around were dusky gray. 
 E'en nqw the melancholy warblings float — 
 I see thee charra'd, as erst, by ever}* pensive note*." 
 
 To Wolcot's bold prescription of calomel (not 
 then in fashion) my father had to attribute a tem- 
 porary escape from the gout, which had attacked 
 his stomach. But at length arrived the fatal hour, 
 which no medicine could avert, and he died the 
 death of a saint. On the 8th of February 1777 
 he was buried at St. Clement's, not in the family- 
 vault in the Polwhele transept, but in the church- 
 yard J where, nigh his mortal part, my remains, 
 I hope, will be deposited. He disliked vaults in 
 churches; and, in his objections, anticipated what 
 has lately been argued on the subject. 
 
 I have elsewhere observed that his life was truly 
 apostolic. The respect with which he was treated, 
 by the high and the low, proved the strong influ- 
 
 * See " Local Attachment," last book.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 4il 
 
 ence of a religious example. To his honesty and 
 integrity * all who knew him would have entrusted, 
 without a scruple, the whole of their property. I 
 will mention one instance only of the veneration 
 with which he was regarded. On his way to his 
 parish church, on a Sunday, meeting a surgeon 
 of Truro, Mr. I. (though not the family-sur- 
 geon), apologized to him for the apparent inde- 
 cency of being seen upon the road in a contrary 
 direction from that to the church ; declaring that 
 his "journey was a work of necessity ;" — a fact 
 scarcely credible to our apprehension at this hour, 
 so changed are our manners and our morality. If 
 my father had a fault, it was too great quickness 
 or fervour in the expression of his feelings. For 
 instance — General M'Carmick (his neighbour) 
 had desired him to throw down the fences oppo- 
 site to the General's grounds, for which the 
 General " would substitute park-pales." " No 
 (said my father), not for pales of gold." This 
 
 * Justum et tenacem propositi, &c. &c. was exactly character- 
 istic of my father. In 1762 he shewed, on a public occasion, 
 the same upright and independent spirit, and determination " to 
 think for himself," which, in private life, so strongly marked his 
 character. I allude to the exclusion of the heir of the Glynn 
 estate from his patrimony, in consequence of a charge of lunacy. 
 The special jury had made up their minds, all but my fatlier, 
 twenty-four hours, I believe, before he had come to a final reso- 
 lution on the subject. During that long and harassing interval, 
 he was most anxiously and unweariedly employed in examining 
 the evidence in all its bearings. See Glynn's Letter in the next 
 Section.
 
 42 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 was decisive language ; the best, perhaps, in an- 
 swer to unreasonable importunities. 
 
 I was still a school-boy : and, accompanying my 
 mother to Bath, and thence to Bristol, (whither 
 she had been advised to go, in consequence of a 
 nervous indisposition,) I had occasion to submit 
 my little poetic effusions to several persons, in 
 whose judgment I thought I might safely confide, 
 and who advised me to give two of them to the 
 publick : " the Genius of Karnbre," and " the 
 Fate of Lewellyn*.'* The first I had written 
 before my father's death ; and it was during the 
 journey (particularly at Okehampton, where we 
 were detained all day by a violent thunder-storm) 
 that I composed the greater part of " the Fate of 
 Lewellyn." Soon after our arrival at Bath I met, 
 in a mixed company, Mr. Rack, to whom, in the 
 course of an hour, I became warmly attached; 
 such is the velocity of juvenile spirits in their 
 partialities, and (it may be added) in their aver- 
 sions. But this friendship, though rapidly formed, 
 was permanent ; it lasted during the life of Mr. 
 Rack, and the idea of it is still cherished with 
 pleasure. 
 
 I had the honour of being introduced, likewise, 
 
 * These poems were immediately printed by Cruttwell ; they 
 were favourably received by the publick. 
 
 "If this young gentleman of Truro-school be still ai Truro- 
 school, he hath either overstayed his time, or is a promising 
 genius for a school-boy." London Review for December 1777. 
 
 " If he be not within the description of the scholars of Mr. 
 Hart, who teaches grown gentlemen to dance, these poems are 
 not without merit." Critical Review for December 1/77.
 
 BIOGRAI'HICAL NOTICES. 43 
 
 to Mrs. Catharine Macaiilay and Dr. Wilson, at 
 Alfred House ; and, at the celebration of Mrs. 
 Macaulay's birth-day. April 2, ly??? was encou- 
 raged, among other competitors for her smiles, to 
 present her with an ode*. I was introduced, 
 also, to the young dramatic poetess of Bristol, 
 Miss Hannah More; who, whilst Catharine wi| , 
 receiving homage at Bath from greybeards and 
 from boys, was herself enthroned amidst a crowd 
 of boarding-school misses, tutored to lisp, in sooth- 
 ing accents, her dramas and her praises. 
 
 * It was soon after published^ together with five other odes, 
 which had been likewise pi'esented and read to " a poUte and 
 brilliant audience," on the same memorable occasion. The first 
 ode (as it is called) by Graves, the author of the Spiritual jQuix- 
 otte, closes with 
 
 " Britannia's glory thro' the world display 'd. 
 And dauntless freedom, by one matchless maid !" 
 
 to wit, by Mrs. Catharine Macaulay, The second is an irregular 
 ode, by Mr. Rack, who tells us, that " Apollo is god whom all 
 revere !" The author of the third ode was a Mr. Hinks. The 
 fourth was by the Truro school-boy 3 the second and third stanzas 
 of which were worthy (as the critics of the day asserted) of being 
 rescued from oblivion. In the fifth ode, Mr. Hippesley 
 
 " Amaz'd, half drowsy, waken'd in a fright. 
 Arose, and penn'd his vision of the night." 
 
 And in the sixth, Mr. Meyler (os magna sonaturum) exclaims, 
 
 " Lo ! the child of Liberty ! 
 'Tis she ! 'tis she ! 'tis she !" 
 
 It is well known that Mrs. Macaulay was afterwards married 
 to Dr. Graham (who, in the introduction to the six odes, pre- 
 sents his acknowlfidgments to Dr. Wilson, " through her agree- 
 able medium") ; and that, with Dr. Graham (and other champions 
 of democracy) she emigrated to America, and died there.
 
 44 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Section II. 
 Letters of Glynn, Wolcot, Collins, 8^c, 
 
 John Glynn, Esq. to Thomas Polvvhele, Esq. 
 Polwhele near Truro. 
 
 August 4, 1762. 
 Dear Sir, 
 I take the freedom very earnestly to beg the 
 favour of your attendance at Bodmin, next week, 
 upon the special jury, to try a question of so much 
 consequence to the Glynn family, that every branch 
 of it must wish to have it determined by gentle- 
 men of rank and consideration. Yours faithfully, 
 
 John Glynn. 
 
 March 1775. 
 Dear Cousin, 
 
 I will tell you a family anecdote, which, possi- 
 bly, you may never have heard. It will set your 
 muse at work, perhaps : subjects more trivial have 
 often engaged the maids of Helicon. 
 
 Grace Saunders, your nurse, was standing one 
 day at the door of her cottage at Bolitho, with 
 your sweet self in her arms, a babe about a 
 fortnight old, when a yellow-hammer, that was 
 perched on a neighbouring tree, fell suddenly into 
 the mouth of an adder, but a few feet distant from 
 her. The nurse screamed, and perhaps the infant
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 45 
 
 too ; the adder resigned its prey, and the bird 
 with difficulty regained the tree, its wing injured, 
 if not broken. 
 
 What say you to this ? What does it augur ? 
 Are you to be fascinated by the basilisk eyes of 
 beauty ? Are you to be in danger, and to be res- 
 cued from it ? Are you to be a great naturalist, 
 or ornithologist ? Or, is it all — a song ? Yours 
 truly, J. B. C. 
 
 From Rev. J. Collins to his sister Jane Collins, 
 7'€specting an *' Ode to Harvest" written at 
 school by Richard Polwhele, wheii he was 
 about twelve years of age. 
 
 My Dear Sister, 
 * * * * Tell our poetical cousin 
 I think his verses very pretty ; they shew he has 
 a good ear for poetry, which I hope he will culti- 
 vate. It is a more respectable talent than fox- 
 hunting or cock-fighting. I have not room to say 
 all I wish on this subject. In short, tell him, his 
 verses, though not so correct as he will write some 
 years hence, have no faults but what are usual, 
 perhaps necessary, to youth. There is a senti- 
 ment or two that I most admire, because they 
 shew a good heart. Such a tender one may pro- 
 perly be called ; and without that, all the poetry in 
 the world is but mere jangle^ — three blue beans in 
 a blue bladder^ &c. &c. If he won't be too proud 
 of it, you may add (and I think it is an opinion
 
 46 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 that may be supported with truth), his verses have 
 more poetry, as well as more music in them, than 
 the ode Mr. Pope wrote at about his age. But 
 he has better models in his own language, at least, 
 than Pope had ; and I hope such will be selected 
 for him. Let him read all sorts of Poetry except 
 satire ; for I would by no means have him a sati- 
 rist. Less poetry than ill-nature is requisite for 
 that purpose, and I am sure he wants the principal 
 ingredient. 
 
 The " Ode to Harvest," above alluded to, is as follows 
 
 I. 
 
 Ye powers of each Autumnal scene, 
 And thou, propitious Ceres ! queen 
 
 Of heart-delighting glee. 
 With numbers full of glowing fire. 
 And strains of gratitude, inspire 
 
 Thy little devotee. 
 
 II. 
 
 Ye gilded meads which charm the eye 
 Beneath the azure of a sky 
 
 That brightens to the sun ! 
 Ye velvet lawns, ye whispering shades. 
 Contiguous to the watery glades, 
 
 And rills that tinkling run ! 
 
 III. 
 
 O may I wild to pleasure bound, 
 And bid the vocal groves resound 
 
 To all a lover's joy ; 
 And whilst the wonders of the plain 
 Exhilarate yon healthful swain, 
 
 May such delight the boy.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 47 
 
 IV. 
 
 With blissful heart and rapt in song 
 Warbled amidst the feather'd throng 
 
 That greet the rosy morn. 
 He sees, along the loaded slope, 
 A treasure to crown every hope. 
 
 His undulating corn. 
 
 V. 
 
 The merry maidens cross the brook. 
 Each, in her hand a gleaning-hook. 
 
 To reap the ripen'd good. 
 Thus, thus, thy bounties, gentle power ! 
 Descending in a silver shower. 
 
 Supply us all with food. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And, lo ! in blooming Phillis blest, 
 Amyntas shares the rural rest. 
 
 And, of a generous soul. 
 Diffusive, opens every door 
 To welcome in the flocking poor. 
 
 And deal out many a dole. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And now in buxom troops they glean 
 The scatter'd corn-ears, gather'd clean. 
 
 And thank the unsparing hand 
 Whence all we can enjoy below. 
 Whence blessings in full current flow 
 
 To feed a happy land. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Too happy, if it knew its bliss. 
 But ah ! no man on earth shall miss 
 
 The bitter cup of woe ! 
 If, promising unfading joy. 
 Fancy's gay train our spirits buoy. 
 
 They glitter, and they go.
 
 48 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But yet, in life's all varied scene. 
 The down, the dell, the daisied green, 
 
 A blameless transport yields ; 
 And thou, O Ceres ! dost impart 
 The sweetest pleasure to the heart. 
 
 From silver- waving fields. 
 
 This was a school exercise. Not many weeks after, an " Ode 
 to Justice" was proposed as the subject for a Thursday evening's 
 lucubration J and I recollect (as if but an hour ago) one of our 
 class mistook the divine Astrsea for a justice of the peace; and 
 it was with difficulty we could dissuade him from trying his hand 
 at a Piadaric, in serious celebration of a petty sessions at Tre- 
 silian. About this time the following lines were approved by 
 the master, as a good, free translation of a Greek epigram, " on 
 Pallas bathing :" 
 
 Rosy with eternal bloom, 
 
 Pallas courts not rich perfume 
 
 Nor breathing unguents, to adorn 
 
 Cheeks that emulate the morn. 
 
 Bright are her expressive eyes. 
 
 Lucid mirrors which despise. 
 
 When the wanton Phrygian, mov'd 
 
 By a form so madly lov'd, 
 
 Judg'd, that an all conquering grace 
 
 Sl)one from Cytherea's face, 
 
 Pallas felt no vain alarms. 
 
 Conscious of superior charms ; 
 
 Nor to glassy Simois hied. 
 
 But scorn'd its gleam with proper pride I 
 
 And the imperial wife of Jove 
 
 liook'd down upon the Queen of Love. 
 
 Venus, by her mirror's aid. 
 
 Anxiously herself survey'd ; 
 
 And with secret doubt and care. 
 
 Thrice compos'd one flying hair.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 49 
 
 From Job. — A school-exercise. 
 
 Hast thou, with vigour and superior force — 
 Frail man ! — hast thou endued the generous horse ? 
 With thunder hast thou cloath'd his brawny chest. 
 And with a blaze of lightnings arm'd his breast ? 
 Proud of his sinewy strength, amidst the alarms 
 Of war he foams, he courts the clash of arms ; 
 And, to the dazzling helm, the bristling spear. 
 Shakes his exuberant mane, and laughs at fear. 
 The yielding ground with fiery rage he paws, 
 And to the shrilling trumpet neighs applause j 
 Exulting, smells the battle from afar. 
 And with broad nostrils snuffs the shouts of war. 
 
 Dr. WoLCOT to Richard Polwhele. 
 
 I congratulate you on your progress jn our de- 
 lightful art. I have told you again and again that 
 you were too epithetish, and I am glad you have 
 taken my advice, by sending epithets to poetasters. 
 You will acquire nerve every hour, if you get rid 
 entirely of those damned epithets — go on and 
 conquer ! You will descend to posterity with ho- 
 nour if you write like this. Yours, &c. 
 
 John Wolcot. 
 
 It was in allusion to the following epistle I re- 
 ceived the above note : 
 
 Written at Polwhele, Feb. 27, 1777. 
 Epistle to W. T. 
 Pulse of my heart, to whom alone 
 
 My every fondest wish I breathed ; 
 Fire of my bosom, art thou gone ? 
 
 Alas ! (thy temples laurel wreathed 
 Where Camus sleeps upon his rushes) 
 Thou wilt remember but with blushes 
 E
 
 50 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 The simple madrigals we play'd, 
 As eist we hail'd this quiet shade. 
 From others far, who lash the hoop 
 Or strike the ball, a clamorous troop. 
 We joy'd, adown that arching wood. 
 To gaze upon the yellow flood ; 
 Or, when it pass'd its marly bed. 
 Its deepening foam from ochre red ; 
 To mark the wild duck midst the sedge ; 
 To saunter nigh the hawthorn hedge. 
 Or there, if nest might haply be, 
 To pry into the hollow tree ! 
 
 But often where the old stag's horn 
 Still catches the first beams of morn. 
 Or, where the mouldering banner trembles. 
 Or yon pale chief, his beaver up, 
 (Whose lip so much my sire's resembles,) 
 Looks down upon these days with scorn. 
 We us'd, in thoughtful mood, to stop. 
 To sigh, to meditate, to ponder. 
 The picture arms or antler under. 
 And, like a couple of hoar sages, 
 To call back long- forgotten ages. 
 
 'Twas then we i hymed — the strain how dear O !- 
 From Martial quaint or pastoral Maro ; 
 And spun out verse enough (poor elves !) 
 In sweet complacence — from ourselves. 
 
 Nor wonder that I prized each measure : 
 He, who is now no more, with pleasure 
 Hung o'er my lyre's weak tremulous chord — 
 He — " loved in life, in death adored !" — 
 Alas ! not one faint moon away 
 Hath pass'd, amidst the sombre skies, 
 Since, beckoning to eternal day 
 His little son (who mingled sighs 
 And tears to fond affection due) 
 To bliss his parted spirit flew !
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 51 
 
 About the same time I translated 
 
 The Honey-stealer of Theocritus. 
 As Cupid once, the errant'st rogue alive, 
 Robb'd the sweet treasures of the fragrant hive, 
 A bee the frolic urchin's finger stung. 
 With many a loud complaint his hands he wrung, 
 Stampt wild the ground, his rosy fingers blew, 
 And strait, in anguish, to his mother flew. 
 '' Mother (he cried, in tears all frantic drown'd) 
 'Twas but a little bee, and what a wound !" 
 But she with smiles her hapless boy survey 'd. 
 And thus, in chiding accents, sweetly said : 
 " Of thee a ivnex type is no where found, 
 Who, tho' so little, giv'st so great a wound !" 
 
 Dr. WoLCOT to the Printer of the Sherborne 
 Mercury. 
 Sir, 
 The following stanzas, from a just printed 
 production (called *' the Fate of Lewellyn'') of a 
 young gentleman of Cornwall, still at school, wdl 
 do no discredit to your entertaining paper. They 
 possess a strength seldom discoverable in a muse 
 so young, and a colouring which would not dis 
 grace the pencil of a master. Elfinda, after an 
 address to Lewellyn, is alarmed at the shout of a 
 battle, in which her father, the Earl of Radnor, is 
 engaged. At length she discovers him a prisoner. 
 The spectacle of a father in chains, too powerful 
 for her sensibility, deprives her of her life. But 
 let the young poet speak for himself: 
 
 She ceas'd : when, lo ! the shouts of war 
 Re-echoed thro' the trembling gloojn ; 
 Elfinda hears the rattling car, 
 
 Pale horror warns her of her doom. 
 E 2
 
 52 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Unthinking maid ! what beck'ning power 
 
 Thus hail'd thee to the spectred grove ? 
 Ah ! heedless nymph ! is this an hour, 
 
 Is this a time for timid love ? 
 Behold, the dread steel dimly gleams ; 
 
 It is no visionary sword : 
 See troops in arms— hark ! thrilling screams- 
 
 Thy father ! lo ! the captive lord ! 
 She swoons. O'er all her features spreads, 
 
 O'er their young bloom a deadly pale : 
 So the sweet rose's crimson fades ; 
 
 So droops the lily of the vale." 
 
 Dr. WoLcoT to R. P. 
 
 Do send me my ditties. Miss F. must be a dull 
 scholar, indeed, if she hath not read 'em. Take 
 'em away from her ; they'll spoil her : girls need 
 not tutors to communicate romantic ideas. I am 
 just writing to Tom Warton. If you've a mind to 
 know what 'tis, leave one moment your studies, 
 and descend from your Helicon, alias spider-loft, 
 and come and see. 
 
 Since I saw you I have been in company with a 
 beautiful lady, who is particularly acquainted with 
 the author of " The Visions in Verse," and his 
 elegant daughter, to whom they are addrest. If 
 you possess the first volume of Madame Main- 
 tenon's History, you'll oblige me by sending it. 
 
 6 o'clock. J. "V^/". 
 
 Wolcot had sent a young lady at my mother's house an Ele- 
 giac Epistle from " Matilda Queen of Denmark/' &c. &c. and
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 53 
 
 other poems. This epistle has never, 1 believe, to this moment, 
 been printed. It is beautifully elegiac. Dr. W. thought (he 
 said) the sentiment here attributed to the King of England, in- 
 consistent with his character, and therefore declined publishing 
 the epistle. It is as follows. 
 
 Epistle from Matilda Queen op Denmark to 
 George the Third. 
 
 To thee, whose bosom bleeds at nature's cries. 
 
 The lost Matilda lifts her feeble voice. 
 Waste not the softness of thy soul in sighs : 
 
 Behold, I journey where the just rejoice. 
 
 A child of sorrows I, alas ! was born ; 
 
 My birth was usher'd by the raven's song, 
 That, croaking, told me I was doom'd to mourn, 
 
 And drag a painful load of life along. 
 
 When from my country and from thee I went. 
 Dear objects whom these languid eyes adore, 
 
 How on our parting kiss my heart was rent, 
 A spirit whispering " Ye shall meet no more." 
 
 O'er the dark waves I urg'd my hopeless way. 
 
 And bid the Genius of the storm arise, 
 Shade with his gloomy wing the beams of day. 
 
 And gather all the thunders of the skies. 
 
 In vain I wish'd the elements to join, 
 
 And whelm my griefs beneath the roaring wave : 
 
 To pour a heavier groan the lot was mine. 
 And sink with keener anguish to the grave. 
 
 Britain with rapture saw a crown my dower. 
 And in the bright possession deemed me blest. 
 
 Then smil'd the fiend that watch'd my natal hour. 
 And envy smote for joy her canker'd breast. 
 
 What thoughtless thousands for a sceptre sigh. 
 
 And praise it with an idolizing breath. 
 Whose rays, like distant lightnings, please the eye. 
 
 But prove, too near approach'd, the shafts of death.
 
 54> TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Yon column, that in stately ruin spread, 
 
 Heaps with its splendid spoils the field below, 
 
 Heav'd to the stars of heaven its towering head. 
 But crumbled to the bolt's avenging blow. 
 
 Vain are the charms that deck the shrines of Kings, 
 There dove-eyed innocence is scarcely known ; 
 
 There lurking treachery darts her scorpion stings 5 
 And flattery, like a spaniel, licks the throne. 
 
 Lo ! impudence the royal ear invades. 
 Where modesty is seen to wander far 
 
 In rural scenes to clieer the twilight shades, 
 With lustre mild, like evening's lonely star. 
 
 What joys await the sylvan maid (I "ve cried) 
 
 Blest fortune midst the harmless flocks to dwell. 
 
 Content for ever smiling at her side, 
 
 And Peace the soft companion of her cell. 
 
 With sweet Simplicity, whose lip divine 
 
 Sips with her sister Health the crystal spring : 
 
 How swiftly glide their moments ; but of mine. 
 Each mournful, leaves me with a leaden wing. 
 
 Without a friend to join my dreary way 
 
 I wander'd, labouring with a thousand woes. 
 
 Urg'd by my fate I went, but wept the day. 
 And offer'd with my hand my soul's repose. 
 
 Around, while Grandeur bade his axle roll 
 
 With all the beams that splendour could impai't. 
 
 Pale Melancholy to my bosom stole, 
 
 And with her darkest shadows chill'd my heart. 
 
 That heart in solitary silence sigh'd ; 
 
 Wan, drooping, heedless of the gaudy scene. 
 Say, whence the charm amidst the glare of pride 
 
 To plant in misery's cheek the smile serene ? 
 
 All guardless in an unsuspecting hour. 
 Too fondly and too easily betray'd. 
 
 Luckless I felt uppios^iion's iron power. 
 That nought the ruin of a simple maid.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 55 
 
 A Husband saw me on my knees for life ; 
 
 My suppliant cries he heaid, but trembling stood: 
 Slave to his fears, he left a helpless Wife 
 
 To stain the knife of murder with her blood. 
 
 O, were my sorrowing heart a husband's care. 
 
 His love would soften every killing pain ; 
 His tenderness would steal me from despair, 
 
 And call my spirit to the world again. 
 
 But far from me, with riot's madding throng. 
 My parting struggle yields his soul delight ; 
 
 Whilst Pleasure wins him with her syren song, 
 I sink desponding to the shades of night. 
 
 Yet, yet, Matilda, in thy latest sighs 
 
 Thou droop'st not unlamented and alone ; 
 Lo ! innocence forsakes her native skies 
 
 To soothe with hope of future bliss thy moan. 
 
 Why was I rescued from the threatening steel ? 
 
 For harder trials why prolong'd my breath ? 
 Then blessing I had bid my babes farewell, 
 
 An! on their beauties clos'd my eyes in death. 
 
 Sweet infants, you eie long will hear my fall, 
 By Denmark told, to blast a parent's name ; 
 
 Let not with you, my loves, the lie prevail. 
 
 Nor let my memory wake the blush of shame. 
 
 By all the tears that dim these dying eyes, 
 And warm with all my soul's affection flow. 
 
 Ah, by my heart's last melancholy sighs 
 That heave with all the energy of woe, 
 
 I have not stain'd with infamy your line. 
 
 Though slander's venom would my fame defile. 
 
 Know, pity cheers me with her dirge divine. 
 And conscience views my actions with a smile. 
 
 Your artless asking tongues will oft enquire, 
 
 What laid a parent in an eai'ly grave. 
 Then calumny will start with eyes of fire. 
 
 And bid your little hearts with sorrow heave.
 
 66 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Rise, then, O blushing truth, my cause to plead. 
 And drive the daemon from their listening ears. 
 
 Thus will they weep at Denmark's cruel deed. 
 And my ghost triumph in their tender tears. 
 
 Lo, my last sand ! My brother ! O, adieu ! 
 
 Ere thou shalt hear, a sister's groans are o'er : 
 Far other scenes shall meet my wondering view. 
 
 Where friendship's bands unite — the blissful shore ; 
 
 Where wild ambition waves no blood-stain'd wing, 
 
 Nor envy's restless fiend is seen to pine ; 
 Where love's pure spirit bids the valleys sing, 
 
 And virtue glories in a heart like thine. 
 
 Wolcot's admirable translation of " Somme levis," &c. &c. 
 which he wrote for me at Polwhele on a Saturday evening, has 
 already appeared in one or two Biographical Notices. I had 
 paraphrased (for a school-exercise) that beautiful little epigram, 
 as follows : 
 
 Come, gentle sleep, with all thy balms. 
 
 And lull me to repose : 
 The very image, thou, of death, 
 
 Yet soother of our woes ! 
 Kind to thy votary's wish, O come, 
 
 Companion of his bed. 
 How sweet to live, thus void of life ; 
 
 To die, and not be dead. 
 
 I shewed it to Wolcot, who liked it well enough, and said it 
 " was much better than any other of Cardew's boys could pro- 
 duce;" but seized a pen, and instantly translated the lines in 
 this superior manner : 
 
 Come, gentle sleep, attend thy votary's prayer. 
 And, though death's image, to my couch repair ! 
 How sweet, thus living, without life to lie, 
 Thus, without dying, O, how sweet to die. 
 
 He read poetry extremely well ; and these lines, I remember, 
 he repeated to me two or three times, with a voice so plaintively
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 57 
 
 soft, so musical in its cadences, that his whole soul should seem 
 to have been attuned to sensibility and virtue. But what a med- 
 ley is man of good and evil ! 
 
 The following song on the birth of a son at Boconnoc in 
 1775, was given me by Dr. Wolcot, It was set to music (if I 
 recollect rightly) by Bennet, the organist of Truro. 
 
 With joy these sacred shades I hail. 
 Where Cornwall's genius crowns the vale. 
 
 And views with sparkling eye 
 Her sons, whose bosoms boast the fires 
 That Heaven-born freedom's cause inspires. 
 
 In which they dare to die. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Depart, ye gloomy sons of care : 
 
 Let mirth with smiles the scene adorn. 
 And to the raptur'd groves declare, 
 
 " A son of liberty is born." 
 
 By all our Druid tribes I swear. 
 Whose harps resound on fancy's ear 
 
 With freedom's hallow'd lay ! 
 By all those heroes who have bled. 
 And nobly join'd the patriot dead, 
 
 I bless the glorious day. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Depart, &c. &c. 
 
 Prophetic, lo! I see the youth 
 
 For Britain bear the shield of truth. 
 
 Her dearest rights defend. 
 I hear his tuneful periods roll. 
 And see the transpoits of his soul. 
 
 That mark him Britain's friend. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Depart, &c. &c.
 
 58 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 I see fair fame her page unfold 
 To blazon with immortal gold 
 
 His more than attic wit. 
 Ah ! goddess ! spare the long record — 
 Enough ! enough ! one single word — 
 
 Inscribe the name of Pitt ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 Depart, &c. &c." 
 
 Christmas Hymn, by Wolcot. 
 
 The weeping world in anguish lay j 
 
 Despair to madness lent her sighs j 
 In blood went down the orb of day. 
 
 And death-like horror dimm'd the skies. 
 When lo ! in Mercy's robe array'd. 
 
 The infant God at length appears. 
 Smiles comfort on the Holy Maid, 
 
 And bids the world resign its fears. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Hosanna ! let all earth and Heaven 
 
 Unite, this happy morn — 
 To-day the promis'd child is given. 
 
 And God himself is born. 
 
 The fiend of death shall hide his head, 
 
 Abash'd, with all his spectre train ; 
 And war, so long with carnage red. 
 
 Shall glut no more the blushing plain. 
 Fair Justice shall again rejoice. 
 
 As, pale Revenge, thy triumphs cease, 
 And Innocence attune her voice 
 
 To soothe the universe to peace. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Hosanna ! &c, &c.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 59 
 
 O, how shall mortals falln requite. 
 
 Or how his wondrous goodness scan, 
 Who left the glorious realms of light 
 
 To snatch from death the race of man. 
 Hail ! iiail ! again this blissful hour, 
 
 And trace the path that Jesus trod. 
 Who fell'd the serpent's tyrant power. 
 
 And Ufts the sinner to his God. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Hosanna I &c. &c." 
 
 This was a "joint concern." It was invitd Minervd that Wol- 
 cot turned his attention to sacred poetry. The following, in 
 ridicule of Christmas Carols, is " all his own." 
 
 A Christmas Carol, composed by Atty White, 
 the Cryer of Truro. 
 
 Rejoice and be merry, good folks of our town. 
 Since our Member and Richard Curgenwyn's come down ; 
 As they travell'd, their dialogues, nine out of ten, 
 Were of nothing but princes and parliament men. 
 
 Chorus, 
 Then rejoice, for such tidings I never did tell. 
 Ever since that I 've travell'd about with my bell. 
 
 Many times in his coach the great man, with an air. 
 Took off his own speeches to make Richard stare ; 
 So that often Dick's locks wei e with tenor uncurl'd, 
 To think he sat next the first man in the world. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 Not like Jehu he drove, but all snugly and quiet. 
 For fear his arrival might kick up a riot ; 
 For fear we might tear from the traces his blacks. 
 And carry the coach and hlmaelf on our backs. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c.
 
 60 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Though born so far west, he's a man of great brightness. 
 And all must allow, that he shines in politeness ; 
 As King George hath declared to Queen Charlotte his wife. 
 He ne'er met with a man like Rosewarne in his life. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 There 's Richard and Sampson and Stephen declare. 
 That his speeches made all the whole parliament stare ; 
 That he knock'd down each speaker as 'twere with a hammer. 
 And that all that he spoke was according to grammar. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 They report that the Londoners say, one and all. 
 That we bow to Rosewarne like the wicked to Baal ; 
 That he piles up his riches in Bodrigan-barn ; 
 That in Cornwall nought 's heard but the name of Rosewarne. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 Folks may say that his speeches were terrible stuflf — 
 False grammar, false English, and nonsense enough ; 
 But if Richard tells truth I shall ne'er believe that. 
 As Tom Tub made them all for the poll of his hat. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 I have heard that he hath not the soul of a cat — 
 In the country I grant it — but what of all that ? 
 In the parliament (look ye) he stands like a steeple. 
 And roars like a bull for the good of the people. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 And then in the church we must surely declare. 
 That nobody ever saw such a fine Mayor ; 
 E'en the bagmen did never a finer cast eye on. 
 Where he read like a Bishop and look'd like a lion. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 About twenty years since, both the men and the women 
 Swore no mortal alive could compare with old Lemon : 
 But now from our Magistrates gladly we learn 
 That old Lemon's a blockhead to Measter Rosewarne. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c.
 
 k 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 61 
 
 So great is his power, that, without asking for 't. 
 He rides in his coach through the turnpikes for nort; 
 And though 'tis a theft for which well we might try 'un. 
 The commissioners all are afraid to deny 'un. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 As he knows like a King that we really regard 'un. 
 He declares he 's asham'd of the post of vicewarden. 
 Is it so, Measter Morris ? If that be the case. 
 Your servant so humble will soon have your place. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 The best of good victuals his palace is rich in — 
 Roast goose in the parlour, and beef in the kitchen : 
 Gratis all — the votes call for whatever they please ; 
 So their hands and their chops are as busy as bees. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 Both out-doors and in-doors, by night and by day. 
 The crowds and their catgut are screeching away j 
 Whilst the maids to each neighbour, as mute as a mouse, 
 Tell of measter's great feats in the parliament-house. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 So great is his credit, he makes London town 
 Believe all the tin that 's in Cornwall his own ; 
 E'en a taylor that made 'un a jacket and coat 
 Trusted Measter Rosewarne without asking his note. 
 Then rejoice, &c, &c. 
 
 People say, and the tale every body believes. 
 That the Prince and our Measter are great as two thieves } 
 That Measter will give 'un some pines, and get by 't 
 Great honours, and ride into Cornwall a Knight. 
 '1 hen rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 There's Madam will go, too, to see Measter Prince, 
 To show her fat sides and fine breeding and sense. 
 Joyce, too, will make one, and then raise her nose higher ; 
 Good enough, after that, to be sure, for a squire. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c.
 
 G2 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Then Truro bow down to this second Colossus, 
 Whose greatness and cunning s« deeply engross us ; 
 Let us sing to his praise, though the county divide us — 
 For we must be his moyles whilst he means to bestride us. 
 Then rejoice, &c. &c. 
 
 A Poetical Dialogue between two Camborne Dogs, Trim and 
 PiNKEY, overheard by Dr. Wolcot. 
 
 Scene, the little Parlour at Rosewame. 
 
 PlliKEY. 
 
 Trim ! what's o'clock ? Where's sweet Miss Jenny? 
 
 Trim. 
 Why, snoring up in bed, you ninny ! 
 
 PiNKEY. 
 
 Fie, Trim ! you are too bold, indeed ! 
 Could you not say, ' asleep in bed ?' 
 
 Trim. 
 Dear Pinkey ! with those eyes of grace. 
 That mouth demure, and Whitfield face. 
 Thou canst not quit thy canting prate yet, 
 Dont be a hypocrite — I hate it. 
 
 To T prithee Pink, repair — 
 
 Thou 'it be an alderman and mayor ; 
 By meanness to preferment clamber. 
 And vote one day for honest Bamber. 
 I'll never whine and make up faces, 
 To get in Jenny Vivian's graces. 
 
 But thou art such a fawning wretch- 
 
 But wherefore do I idly preach ; 
 'Tis only throwing pearls to pigs. 
 
 Pinkey. 
 Pray, Trim, no longer run your rigs : 
 I never was in thieveries taken ; 
 I never robb'd the dish for bacon ;
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 63 
 
 I never stole the bread when toasting ; 
 Or lick'd a leg of mutton roasting } 
 I never to the pantry ran. 
 And slily skimm'd for cream the pan. 
 
 Trim. 
 Well, Pink! whilst I have strength to tell ye. 
 By hook or crook I'll fill my belly : 
 My guts shall never cry for hunger. 
 Pinkey ! dont stare so, like a conger I 
 If gentlefolks keep dogs so great, 
 'Tis very fit those dogs should eat : 
 And if I take from off the dish 
 A piece of pudding, flesh, or fish, i 
 
 I do not for attendance call — 
 I only help myself — that's all. 
 ******* 
 
 Pink ! when I see thy simpering jaws. 
 Thy ghostly looks and begging paws. 
 Such meanness is beyond all bearing ; 
 I own I scarce can keep from swearing. 
 
 PiNKEY. 
 
 My humble manners bring me praise. 
 But people hate your surly ways. 
 
 Trim. 
 Now, that's a lie, you canting scab. 
 For I'm belov'd by Captain Bab. 
 There 's Reynolds — what 's his name — Carthew — 
 With him I am a favourite, too. 
 There 's Doctor Wolcot, too, who says 
 He hates thy despicable ways ; 
 Declares he could, with great good will. 
 Give such a sycophant a pill. 
 The Doctor's judgment all revere. 
 For he hath travell'd far and near ; 
 Hath been with Whites and Blacks in crowds. 
 And lodg'd in houses 'mongst the clouds ;
 
 64 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Hath seen the sun get out of bed, 
 A drunken landlord, all so red ; 
 Hath seen him on the west wave shine, 
 And dip his whiskers in the brine. 
 
 PiNKEY. 
 
 Yes, yes, I frequently have heard 
 The Doctor's tales, but not revered — 
 His histories in strings like onions — 
 1 dont say lies, but Patagonians. 
 ******* 
 
 Cetera desunt. 
 
 A very humourous lampoon of Wolcot on the Corporation was 
 thus answered by a lady of Truro — not, we may conceive from 
 this specimen, the most delicate of her sex. 
 
 A busy physician — no matter his name — 
 
 T'other day, at the full of the moon. 
 Quite lost to all modesty, dead to all shame, 
 
 Was so mad as to pen a lampoon. 
 
 A being invincible chanc'd to be nigh. 
 
 Who determin'd to make it his prize ; 
 And before the poor Doctor knew wherefore or why. 
 
 His lampoon was convey'd to the skies. 
 
 Minerva, bright goddess, perus'd it the first. 
 
 And, giving a loose to her mirth, 
 Exclaim'd, while with laughter just ready to burst, 
 
 ' Can there be such a fool upon earth ?' 
 
 Apollo then read it, and made this reply — 
 
 ' O, ye gods ! do not take it amiss — 
 At a satire so silly I laugh till I cry. 
 
 And the muses all laugh till they p — s.'
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 65 
 
 Ode onCarnbre, by Dr. Wolcot. Truro, 1776. 
 
 Near yonder solitary tower. 
 
 Lone, gloomy, 'midst the moony light, 
 I roam at midnight's spectred hour. 
 
 And climb the wild majestic height. 
 Low to the mountain let me reverent bow. 
 Where Wisdom — Virtue taught their founts to flow. 
 
 Pale on a rock's aspiring steep. 
 
 Behold, a Druid sits forlorn : 
 I see the white-rob'd phantom weep ; 
 
 I hear his harp of sorrow mourn. 
 The vanish'd grove provokes his deepest sigh. 
 And altars open'd to the gazing eye. 
 
 Permit me, Druid, here to stray. 
 
 And ponder 'mid the drear retreat ; 
 To wail the solitary way 
 
 Where Wisdom held her solemn seat. 
 Here let me roam, in spite of folly's smile, 
 A pensive pilgrim o'er each pitied pile *. 
 
 Poor ghost ! no more the Druid race 
 
 Shall here their sacred fires relume ; 
 No more their showers of incense blaze ; 
 
 No more their tapers gild the gloom. 
 Lo ! snakes obscene along the temples creep, 
 And foxes on the broken altars sleep. 
 
 No more, beneath the golden hook 
 
 The treasures of the grove shall fall ; 
 Time triumphs o'er each blasted oak, 
 
 Whose power at length shall crush the ball. 
 ' Led by the wrinkled power, with gladden'd mien. 
 
 Gigantic ruin treads the weeping scene. 
 
 * Less pardonable alliteration than T. Warton's 
 
 " Beneath the beech, whose branches bare," 
 
 which Wolcot used to censure. 
 
 F
 
 66 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 No more the bards, in strains sublime, 
 
 Tlie actions of the brave proclaim, 
 To rescue from the rage of time 
 
 Each glorious deed approv'd by fame. 
 Deep in the dust each lyre is laid unstrung, 
 While mute for ever stops the tuneful tongue. 
 
 Here Wisdom's, Virtue's awful voice 
 
 Inspir'd the youths of Cornwall's plains : 
 
 With such no more these hills rejoice. 
 But sullen death-like silence reigns : 
 
 While Melancholy in yon mould'ring tower 
 
 Sits listening to old Ocean's distant roar. 
 
 Let others, heedless of the hill. 
 
 With eye incurious pass along ; 
 My muse with grief the scene shall fill, 
 
 And swell with softest sighs her song. 
 Ah ! pleas'd each Druid mansion to deplore. 
 Where Wisdom, Virtue dwelt, but dwell no more." 
 
 The Genius of Carnbre; an Ode. By R. P. 1776. 
 
 The moon, in radiance o'er the sky, 
 
 Soften'd the shadows of the night : 
 Sleep hush'd the world. To fancy's eye, 
 
 Carnbre rais'd in awful height. 
 Where gold-ting'd clouds, slow rolling, spread. 
 Shook his monumental head ! 
 Shudder'd my deep-thrilling soul ! 
 Through all my freezing veins the damp of horror stole. 
 
 Sudden appear'd in azure vest 
 
 The guardian genius of the rock ; 
 While heav'd with sighs his tortur'd breast, 
 
 Spite of throbbing grief he spoke. 
 The pearly drops began to break, 
 And glitter down his dark-red cheek j 
 As Cynthia, sporting with his woe, 
 Bade the soft tears in sparkling lustre flow.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 6? 
 
 ' Child of the dust !' the Genius said, 
 
 ' Listen with religious fear: 
 Holy Druids here are laid — 
 
 Bards of old lie buried here. 
 
 Once, alas ! the sacred shade 
 
 Round my raptur'd mountain grewj 
 Once the hand of nature spread 
 
 Woods magnificent to view. 
 
 Oft, where meek and modest Eve 
 
 Freshening dews benignly shed. 
 When the soft elves joy to leave. 
 
 Sportive their luxuriant bed ; 
 
 When faint Summer, feverish power ! 
 
 Blissful hails her twilight reign ; 
 Whilst to taste the fragrant bovver 
 
 Toil forsakes the sultry plain ; 
 
 When the sweetly-purling springs 
 
 Soothe the stillness of the valej 
 When the breeze on whispering wings 
 
 Fans the flower-embroider'd dalej 
 
 Oft the silver harps, around 
 
 Awful notes, high echoing, flung : 
 Pleas'd, Religion heard the sound. 
 
 While to Heaven this temple rung. 
 
 Desolation now appears ; 
 
 Ruin holds these drear abodes ! 
 Now, beneath the weight of years, 
 
 Lo ! the tottering mountain nods. 
 
 Once where oaken foliage rose. 
 
 Once where roU'd the amber wave. 
 There the deadly nightshade glows; 
 
 Hemlock hides the Druid grave. 
 
 Once where Wisdom rear'd her seat. 
 
 Hissing glides the speckled snake : 
 Now in friendship's lone retreat 
 
 Venom swells amidst the brake. 
 
 ****** 
 
 r 2
 
 68 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 My Dear Cousin, February eo, 1777. 
 
 Will the following effusion suit the monument ? 
 Your good father merited a better poet. 
 
 Yours ever, J. B. C. 
 
 The epitaph intended for my father is as follows : 
 
 Let adulation pour the venal strain 
 
 O'er the proud ashes of the great and vain ; 
 
 Whilst gratitude, with rude unfeigned lays. 
 
 Shall haste, Volwhele, to speak thy juster praise; 
 
 And Piety, in tears of joy, shall tell 
 
 How firm the Christian stood, how calm he fell !" 
 
 Mr. Collins was a man of talent; such he would have been 
 considered even at this fastidious moment. He wos a most 
 intimate friend of Dr. Bathurst, the venerable Bishop of Nor- 
 wich. Of a Latin poem, spoken in the theatre at Oxford, the 
 following lines will shew the Virgilian spirit : 
 
 " Sal bello fatisque datum : sat terruit orbem 
 Armorumque furor praeceps, et barbara virtus. 
 Ecce enses sparsi fraterno sanguine rorant ! 
 En lacrymis matrum frustra madet horrida laurus !" 
 
 " Precipufe hae placidae sedes, haec rura quieta 
 Assensu laeto plaudunt j ubi prsepete lapsu 
 Isis iter liquidum, sinuans silientibus undis, 
 Conjugis in gremium genialia brachia tendit." 
 
 " . Forsan, feliciter audis 
 
 Anglice Maecenas ! — Nam tu quoque sanguine regum 
 Deducis genus, et praeclarS, stirpe refulges." 
 
 * * *-* * * * * 
 
 " Ecce tuo adventu nutanti pondere turres 
 Demittunt caput, et circum plaudente tumultu 
 Fervet iter, vicique fremunt ! Tibi pompa Theatri 
 Assurgens gratatur, et ardenti aemula voce 
 In laudes, juvenum manus emicat, et tibi tantis 
 Pro mentis dignas memori dat pectore grates '
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 69 
 
 His epitaph on his first wife, who died in 177^, proves that he 
 had not lost his facility in writing Latin verse. 
 
 " Chara vale conjux ! pete regna beata piorum, 
 Et patris Abrami casta recumbe sinu ! 
 Jam te expectat ibi, parvisque amplectitur ulnis 
 
 Filia ; et O utinam sit niihi vita brevis ! 
 jQuid precor insanus ? Quo me dolor improbus urget ? 
 
 Me prava in vitium taedia lucis agunt. 
 At tu, discipulis mcestis, absente magistro, 
 
 Cui ferre auxilium plurima ciira fuit. 
 Nunc adsis, itiiseransque animo succurre genienti, 
 Vulnus et inflictum da mihi posse pati." 
 
 This Epitaph was paraphrased by Mr. Penrose, Vicar of 
 Gluvias, in lines not worth printing. His original English Epi- 
 taph has some merit. 
 
 Who lieth here ? this sculptur'd verse 
 
 ('Tis all it can) records : 
 Her worth and virtues to rehearse. 
 Transcends the power of words. 
 Oh ! from thy friends too early torn ! 
 
 Yet were thy hours well spent : 
 Thy babe, who died as soon as born. 
 Was not more innocent." 
 
 Epistle to Mrs. Catharine Macaulay. 
 
 Bristol Hot Wells, April 4, 1777. 
 Dear Madam, my loss how I deeply regret. 
 As I rapidly posted along, overset 
 And forced to return ! With big tears in my eyes, 
 1 lament my sad loss of creams, jellies, and pies; 
 And of odes and sweet sonnets ; of quips and of cranks ; 
 And of chat so familiar with folks of all ranks ; 
 But most of harangues upon Freedom I own. 
 With History herself, where she sat on her throne.
 
 70 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Your birth to emblazon. I'm sure the whole Tsle, 
 
 In the vapours before, was arrayed with a smile. 
 
 And Bath (so a letter from Rack himself tells), 
 
 All Bath was in rapture 'midst ringing of bells, 
 
 And various explosions of pleasure. Each lyrick 
 
 Was sublime in its flights above all panegyrick. 
 
 "The delivery," it seems, " would do honor to Garrick." 
 
 But, alas ! my dear Madam, the thing I have lost in, is 
 
 " The action, the manner, the voice of Demosthenes !" 
 
 Enough — I wish only, through you, to convey, 
 
 With a sacred regard to that singular day, 
 
 To your Doctors* in writing, who chas'd away tedium, 
 
 My compliments — through your agreeable medium.^' 
 
 R. P. of Truro School f. 
 
 * Doctors Graham and Wilson. 
 
 t See Introduction to Six Odes in celebration of Mrs. Mac- 
 aulay's birth-day, ^2d of April 1777. 
 
 The Second and Third Stanzas of" The School-boy Ode to 
 Mrs. Macaulay." 
 
 By glorious Sparta's magic strain. 
 Which bade the tyrant frown in vain, 
 
 And all his rage disarm'd ; 
 By all those Druid harps of old. 
 Whose notes (as ancient tales unfold) 
 
 The tiends of madness charm'd j 
 
 By that deep visionary wood. 
 
 Where freedom's hallow'd altar stood, 
 
 The work of hands divine ; 
 By all that laureate band, which pray'd 
 In transport to the generous maid. 
 
 Around her gifted shrine."
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 7^ 
 
 Miss M. to R. P. 
 
 Sir, Oct. 10, i77T. 
 
 When you did me the favour of writing to me 
 in the spring, I was on the point of setting out for 
 London, from whence 1 have been returned but a 
 very short time. I would not answer your letter 
 till I had had the satisfaction of perusing the 
 poems you gave me reason to expect I should 
 soon see. I now beg leave to return you my 
 thanks for the entertainment they have afforded 
 me. There is an agreeable vein of imagination 
 runs through them ; the numbers are, in general, 
 smooth ; and 1 particularly congratulate you on 
 your success in imitative harmony. This last is 
 a great beauty in skilful hands, but it requires 
 much management, and a peculiar nicety of ear, 
 not to let it be too frequent, or appear too mecha- 
 nical ; by the former it loses its effect, and by 
 the latter its gracefulness. 
 
 The truly poetical Mr. Gray is, I will venture 
 tX) pronounce, your favourite, and you cannot 
 labour upon a finer model ; but ex( uisite as he 
 is — from the grandeur and sublimity of his images, 
 the richness of his fancy, and the melody of his 
 versification, he is frequently obscure, sometimes 
 unintelligible — a fault blameable in any writer, 
 but in a poet unpardonable. In a poem every 
 thing should be easy, natural, and perspicuous; 
 intricacy in books of abstruser literature is to be 
 expected and forgiven, because the subjects may 
 be so difficult, that no familiarity of style can pro-
 
 72 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 duce a perfect apprehension to a common reader ; 
 whereas poetry, whose end is to please, as well as 
 to inform, should, without losing its beautiful and 
 becoming elevation, be stripped of every thihg 
 that would obscure its clearness, and hide its per- 
 spicuity. 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 Your most obedient and obliged humble servant, 
 
 M. 
 
 Mr, C. to R. P. previously to his matriculation 
 at Oxford. 
 
 With regard to the College or University to 
 be pitched upon for you, it is, I think, in a great 
 measure a matter of indifference ; the advantages 
 to be derived from a University education de- 
 pending so much as they do on one's own appli- 
 cation, and inclination to make a good use of 
 one's time. 
 
 Yet I cannot help expressing a wish, that your 
 inclination may not lead you to a society gene- 
 rally made up of your own school-fellows or coun- 
 trymen. Not that I mean by this to discommend 
 your keeping up or forming a connexion with 
 those whom you know to be worthy of your friend- 
 ship, or with whom you may be likely hereafter to 
 pass your days, far from it ; I only wish you, in 
 the University, not to pass your time altogether 
 or chiefly among these, which would defeat one 
 principal end of your going from home ; while
 
 I 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 73 
 
 mixing with strangers, would be the surest bar 
 against contracting partialities or prejudices, too 
 commonly the result of confinement to one set of 
 people. It would open a larger field to your 
 knowledge of men and things, and would be the 
 most likely method of acquiring or preserving an 
 ingenuous and liberal turn of thinking as well as 
 acting. J. C.
 
 74 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Section I. 
 
 Notices, Biographical and Critical, from I778 
 
 to 1782. 
 
 " In 1778 (continues the writer of the ^ Public 
 Characters ') Mr. Polwhele * was entered a com- 
 moner of Christ Church, Oxford, where he regu- 
 larly kept his terms until he was admitted a student 
 in civil law ; but he quitted the University without 
 taking any degree -f-." 
 
 In recollecting the undergraduates (nearly of 
 my own standing) with whose persons I was ac- 
 quainted at Christ Church and elsewhere, I shall 
 name only public characters. Such were Abbot, 
 and Sawkins, and Grenville, and Wellesley, and 
 Hall, and Gwillim, at Christ Church ; and among 
 
 * P. 166 — Mr. Polwhele put on a Civilian's gown, to avoid the 
 expences of a " Grand Compounder." But he w ent through all 
 the examinations for a Batchelors degree ; without which no 
 member of Christ Church was permitted to put on the Civilian's 
 gown. 
 
 ■\ This outline will be found filled up in a Letter to a Friend, 
 written in 1782.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. *J5 
 
 those in other colleges, whom I occasionally met 
 at the rooms of my schoolfellows, were Dallaway 
 and Pennington of Trinity, and Henderson of 
 Pembroke ; characters well known in the world 
 of literature * and science. Not that Henderson 
 should be placed on a footing with Pennington or 
 Dallaway. He was a strange anomalous being, 
 affecting a knowledge of the occult sciences, and 
 pretending to an intimacy with spiritual intelli- 
 gencies. Of this man I had heard wonders, but 
 was surprised only by his logic, or rather his casu- 
 istry, which enabled him to silence all who ven- 
 tured to dispute with him. At length, by poisons, 
 he destroyed his stomach, and died a martyr to 
 chemical experiment. 
 
 In the country, Wolcot was still wondered at, 
 and still dreaded; and we were amazed by his 
 
 * It is, indeed, on account of iheir literature that I introduce 
 their names. With GifFord, of Exeter College, I had once the 
 honour of an interview. A part of his translation of Juvenal 
 was put into my hands, and read in our little circle ; and in that 
 specimen we foresaw the future eminence of an author to whom 
 we are indebted for the best satire and the most enlightened 
 criticism. " We foresaw his future eminence " which re- 
 minds me of our favourite amusement, in predicting the fates of 
 those with whom we conversed, and whom we met accidentally ; 
 and our fortune-telling has, in many instances, been verified. 
 We saw in Gwillim the judge in embryo; in Grenville the Chan- 
 cellor j in Abbot the senator, whose " voice was law " (though 
 not, perhaps, distinctly the Speaker) ; in Burgess (as in Christ 
 Church vpalk we first hailed his silver tuft) the literary Bishop. 
 With respect to our own party, names shall not be mentioned. 
 But it is remarkable that two (if not three), at present digni- 
 taries of the Church, were seen as such through our prophetic 
 telescope.
 
 76 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 new publication, " A poetical, supplicatory, mo- 
 dest, and affecting Epistle to those Literary Colos- 
 suses, the Reviewers *." 
 
 * Another Epistle was likewise published by Wolcot (not 
 long afterwards), " The Noble Cricketers," addressed to two 
 of the idlest Lords in his Majesty's three kingdoms; but, I be- 
 lieve, it excited little attention, and was suffered by its author 
 to sink into oblivion. I remember his reading the poem to me 
 in MS. and his omission of one or two passages, to which I ex- 
 cepted, on account of their gross vulgarity. The most pleasing 
 lines in this forgotten Epistle are the following : 
 
 " No, by the Muse, a Muse of humble skill. 
 Perhaps the meanest of the Aonian hill, 
 
 Whose smiles, when care's dark clouds around me lour. 
 
 Break the deep gloom, to give a golden hour, 
 
 I swear, my envy points not to the great ; 
 
 No, 'tis my pity marks the fools of state." 
 ******* 
 
 " Who would not rather be ihe untitled Pitt *, 
 Content the pageantry of courts to quit 
 To shine in solitude, there blest to bless 
 The suppliant, pale ey'd children of distress ? 
 Pitt, whose fair name (such reverence it inspires) 
 The county's proudest, mean-born fool, admires!" 
 
 The last line alludes to the late Henry Rosewarne, Esq. Vice- 
 warden of the Stannaries of Cornwall, and M. P. for Truro (see 
 Chap II. Sect. II.). To Mr. Rosewarne, a native of Truro, and 
 I'esident there, Wolcot had conceived an antipathy, and was, on 
 all occasions, prompt in ridiculing the foibles of a truly respect- 
 able man. Nor did he confine his satire to our worthy repre- 
 sentative, but proceeded to play off the battery of his wit on 
 all the members of the corporate body, so repeatedly and so 
 daringly, that he raised a host of enemies around him, and at 
 length resolved to leave a place to which he had become gene- 
 rally obnoxious. I could repeat many excellent satirical lines, 
 
 * Mr. Pitt, of Boconnoc in this county, afterwards Lord Camelford.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 77 
 
 We were much entertained also by that unlicked 
 cub of a carpenter Opie, who was now most ludi- 
 crously exhibited by his keeper, Wolcot — a wild 
 animal of St. Agnes, caught among the tin-works. 
 An incidental touch of his character, as staring in 
 wonderment at an old family portrait, hath already 
 suggested to my readers an idea of his clownish- 
 ness, which, indeed, was so unique, as to defy all 
 description. Not to pick his teeth with a fork at 
 dinner time, nor at breakfast to " clap his vin- 
 
 but what would gratify some, might give offence to others. 
 Before his final departure from Cornwall, Wolcot had a residence 
 at Falmouth and at Helston, where, though he was shunned as a 
 satirist, he was courted as a physician. There were some, in- 
 deed, who, smarting under his satiric pen, rather sought for than 
 avoided him, in order to be manually avenged of him : and Wol- 
 cot, once I am sure, had on this side of the Tamar a pretty severe 
 chastisement. He was of a very timid disposition in conversa- 
 tion, soon over-awed by a superior character, or checked by the 
 dread of corporal correction from the person whom he despised. 
 He was fearful of lightning ; and used to say that he would as soon 
 be exposed to the cannon-balls of a battery. His literary career 
 now commenced in the metropolis. And from this period, his 
 conduct both as a man and as an author is better known to the 
 public, than to myself. — His " Lyric Odes to the Royal Academi- 
 cians," published in 1780, though deficient in candour, are among 
 the best of his poetry. In " More Odes," there is a beautiful son- 
 net to Jackson, of Exeter, preceded by these lines : 
 
 " Speak, Muse ! who formed that matchless head ? 
 
 The boy in tin mines bred, 
 
 Whose native genius like his diamonds shone 
 
 In secret, till chance gave him to the sun. 
 
 'Tis Jackson's portrait !' ■
 
 78 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 gers " into the sugar-bason, &c. &c. * were in- 
 structions of Wolcot, at a subsequent stage (I 
 might say) of Opie's life, when breakfast-rooms 
 and saloons and drawing-rooms were thrown open 
 to his excellence. At the moment of which I now 
 speak, the manners of every servant's hall in Corn- 
 wall were infinitely superior to Opie's. The 
 strongest indications of his genius first appeared 
 at Mithian (Mr. Nankivell's mansion-house at St. 
 Agnes), as Mr. N. himself informed me. At Mi- 
 
 * Invited to breakfast with Mrs, Boscawen, Dr. Wolcot had so- 
 lemnly charged him not to " clap his vingers into the sugar- 
 bason," The temptation, however, was too strong for Opie. 
 He had more respect (he said) for his " granmar's old rule, 
 ' Touch and take,' than for Wolcot's precepts." — The enthusiastic 
 patroness of Genius, Mrs. Boscawen, found a ready apology for 
 Opie's rudeness. It is almost superfluous to say, that Mrs. B, 
 {the widow of Admiral Boscawen) was a woman of great talents, 
 and acceptable to every society, by the strength of her under- 
 standing, and the brilliancy of her wit. She died in the spring 
 of 1805, at the age of 86. 
 
 This lady was one of the original members of the " Blue- 
 stocking-society," or the " Bas-bleu. " And to Admiral Bos- 
 cawen the society owed its name. Mr. Stillingfleet, another 
 original member, was somewhat, it seems, of a humourist in his 
 habits and manners, and a little negligent of his dress, so that he 
 literally wore grey stockings. From this circumstance Admiral 
 Boscawen used to call them, jocularly, " The Blue-stocking-socie- 
 ty." A foreigner of distinction, hearing the expression, translated 
 it " Bas bleu.'' My readers may remember Boswell's compliment 
 to Mrs. Boscawen, " On Wednesday 29, 1778, 1 dined at Mr. 
 Allan Ramsay's, in company with the Hon. Mrs, Boscawen. — 
 Her manners are the most agreeable, and her conversation the 
 best of any lady with whom I had ever the honour of being ac- 
 quainted." — Boswell's Johnson, III. 119, 120.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 79 
 
 tbian (where his sister lived in service) he would 
 frequently introduce himself on some pretence 
 or other, where he was observed to take a sly 
 peep upon a farming-piece, and then go hastily 
 away. It was a crowded picture ; I knew it well. 
 But, after three or four such glances to refresh his 
 memory, he had made a correct sketch of the 
 whole. He then drew an exact likeness of old 
 Mrs. Nankivell's cat. Dr. Wolcot was desired to 
 notice the boy's movements and manners ; and 
 had no sooner seen the cat, than he cried out in 
 rapture, "£i»p>];«a!" and foretold the future desti- 
 nies of the lad with all the enthusiasm of a pro- 
 phet, and from that instant afforded him every 
 possible assistance. Opie's father was glad to 
 part with him. He said, " the boy was good for 
 nothing — could never make a wheel-barrow — was 
 always gazing upon cats, and staring volks in the 
 face." The young limner's onset was most au- 
 spicious. At his first setting out at Falmouth 
 (where it was Wolcot's pride to exhibit him) he 
 collected upwards of thirty guineas : and Wolcot 
 was one day surprised to see him rolling about 
 upon the floor, where a quantity of money lay 
 scattered. *' See here (says Opie), here be I, 
 wolving in gould." It was then Wolcot brought 
 the boy to me, and prevailed on me to sit to him 
 for my portrait — a picture now before my eyes, 
 valuable, unquestionably, as one of the first efforts 
 of genius. Opie was a guest of our servants : and 
 it was the task of a faithful servant (who died not 
 many years since about the age of ninety), it was
 
 80 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 her task to entertain him. In his progress through 
 the county, passing from one gentleman's seat to 
 another, he was, of course, hospitably treated. 
 But he made cruel havock with female beauty. 
 Dextrous as a Turk " in tahhig off'' a head, or a 
 head and shoulders, and in representing features, 
 and (with the lower orders) even their cast and 
 character, he could not catch a trait of feminine 
 grace or delicacy. To a lady of our party, on 
 whom he first tried his hand, — " Shaant I draa ye, 
 as ye be?" — was a question not soon to be for- 
 gotten. He had hit her likeness, but had lost all 
 the fine expression of her countenance. Whilst 
 Opie thus betrayed his insensibility to female 
 beauty, my boyish feelings were evaporating in a 
 sonnet, or my indignation at the rudeness of the 
 artist, provoked an epigram. 
 Such was the following : 
 
 " Ah ! spare, rnde boy ! that virgin cheek 
 
 Where love lies ambush'd in a dimple ! 
 Go — try thy hand on Prudence P k *, 
 
 Thy pencil would hit off her pinople." 
 
 * A girl with a pimple on her nose. 
 
 " All eyes might see the pimple on her nose."
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 81 
 
 Section II. 
 
 Letters from I778 to 1782. R. P. to a Friend in 
 Shropshire. — Macaulay. — Collins. — Randolph. 
 — Rack. — Towgood. 
 
 Letter from R. P. to a Friend in Shropshire *. 
 
 My Dear Sir, Truro, 17S2. 
 
 A stranger as you are to the University, you 
 have more than once desired me to favour you 
 with some little insight into our academical trans- 
 actions : and now, just at the close of my College 
 life, whilst it remains fresh in my memory, you 
 repeat (as you call it) your petition. My narra- 
 tive, I fear, will be very uninteresting. But for 
 its irksomeness, you may thank yourself. My let- 
 ter, I foresee, will be desultory enough ; though, 
 indeed, its hop, skip, and jump style, may be less 
 tedious than a regular detail. — To proceed, then, 
 without further apology. [A — B — C] 
 
 About the time of my entrance at Oxford, there 
 was one person, whom it would be unjust to my 
 feelings not cursorily at least to mention :— I mean 
 a Miss Kitty Mann, who was then ill at Clifton, 
 where she had drunk the waters of the Bristol 
 
 * This letter, though of a subsequent date, comes first, as 
 serving to explain or illustrate several of the other letters. The 
 thousand pleasing recollections it calls forth, must plead in apo- 
 logy for its insertion. 
 
 G
 
 82 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 spring. She was a niece of the late Mr. Knill, of 
 St. Ives, and the humble companion of a much 
 esteemed relation of my own — of a lady who knew 
 how to appreciate merit, and to reward it with the 
 kindest attentions. It was thus in our family I 
 had been long acquainted with Miss Mann. Her 
 person was pleasing, her manners were gentle, 
 and her taste refined. We had read together, and 
 walked together ; and with mutual pleasure had 
 often seen " the summer-sun go down the sky ! " 
 On my way to Oxford, I called on her at Clifton : 
 she was suffering from consumption, and gradually 
 wasting away. We "walked together" for the 
 last time. There was a soft tint crimsoning the 
 West. I looked at her ; and I thought her flush 
 resembled it. The colour on the horizon grew 
 fainter and fainter ; and when she stopped from 
 feebleness, so did hers. The sky was again mo- 
 mentarily flushed ; and so was her hectic cheek. 
 Such were then my reflections, from fancy or from 
 feeling ! — I " went my way,'* and I saw her no 
 more * ! 
 
 On my arrival at Oxford, I waited on that cele- 
 brated tutor Randolph, with a letter as from an 
 old College acquaintance, for such Mr. Collins -}-, 
 
 * For a memoir of that strange character, Mr. Knill, and a 
 description of the Knillian games, see History of Cornwall, vii. 
 139. 
 
 f The Rev. John Collins, Vicar of Ledbury, is now no more. 
 He was the only son of that learned man, the Rev. Edward Col- 
 lins, Vicar of Breage, and Germoeury, and Gunwallo, and of 
 Saint Erth, in Cornwall. [See more of Edward Collins, in 
 Nichols's very entertaining memoirs of George Hardinge, p. 279.]
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 83 
 
 of Ledbury, my guardian, had supposed him- 
 
 Educated at Eton and Queen's College, Oxford, he cultivated 
 such friendships as reflected on him the highest honour. Har- 
 dinge was one of his most cordial friends. His only church 
 preferment was the living of Ledbury, where his first years of 
 conjugal happiness, and afterwards the sorrows of the widower, 
 proved (with Lord Lyttelton) '* how much the wife was dearer 
 than the bride !" — His wife was a daughter of Nicholas Kendall, 
 of Pelyn, esq. near Lestwithiel; — whom he married in 1769, 
 and lost Nov. 8, 1781, aged 36. " The sorrows of the widower" 
 are generally held sacred ; and, if his attachment to Shakspeare 
 and to Capell, and to his old Etonian friends, could have any 
 way relieved his mind to insult his feelings under such cir- 
 cumstances, were doubtless unmanly and illiberal. He had 
 written a letter to George Hardinge, esq. on the subject of a 
 passage in Mr. Steevens's preface to his impression of Shakspeare, 
 and published it anonymously in 1777:. in vindication of Capell 
 against Steevens. This letter contained ample proof, that the 
 charges of omitting passages, and deviating without notice from 
 their original, might well be retorted on the accuser. Capell, 
 in gratitude, bequeathed to Mr. Collins (who attended him 
 on his death-bed) a good sum of money and a valuable 
 library. I had forgotten the tranquillity of Capell's departing 
 moments 5 which Mr. Collins used often to speak of; though 
 I could never learn that it was Christian serenity — that *' peace 
 of God which passeth all understanding." " Did you ever see a 
 dying man ?" asked Capell, very composedly, some hours before 
 his decease. If I recollect rightly, he continued sensible and 
 calm to the last. Mr. Collins not long after published Capell's 
 Shakspeare, with a preface, in which there are some sprinklings 
 of humour; but it is in general deficient in that vivacity which 
 almost invariably enlivened the conversation and the letters of 
 my worthy kinsman. 
 
 In the mean time, Mr, Steevens had thought proper to attack 
 Mr, Collins, on his Shakspeare lucubrations (just after Mrs. 
 Collins's death), in a most uncandid manner, calling him " the 
 sleep-compelling divine of Hereford," and alluding to his domes- 
 tic misfortune, 
 
 G 2
 
 84 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 self; though I have just now made the discovery, 
 that Mr. Collins's friend was a Randolph of ano- 
 ther College, not my Christ Church tutor. Mr. 
 Collins is a man of lively spirits, and his letter (as 
 I now learn) was full of pleasant allusions to the 
 days of his youth. This strange introduction to 
 a character entrenched (as was Randolph) behind 
 forms and ceremonies, was to me the occasion of 
 much dissatisfaction. My tutor read the letter in 
 solemn silence, flung it fastidiously among his 
 papers, and ordered me (I thought with an un- 
 feeling imperiousness) to be ready to attend him 
 the next morning to the Vice-chancellor. I had 
 fondly expected, that he would invite me to break- 
 fast, and with all the awakened remembrance of 
 his old College friend, Mr. Collins, have entered 
 into familiar conversation with me. But, not even 
 asking me to take a chair, he bowed, I believe, or 
 rather beckoned to the door, when I retired to 
 my Inn alone and disconsolate. The next morn- 
 ing, I had comfort in the gracious condescension 
 of Dr. Bagot, the Dean of Christ Church, and of 
 Dr. Home, the Vice-chancellor of Oxford. But — 
 for Randolph, his manner was frigid, and his 
 words were few. Yet, immediately after matri- 
 culation, he introduced me to Hazlewood, my first 
 Christ Church acquaintance : and I was conducted, 
 on the same day, to ground-floor rooms in Peck- 
 water. Hazlewood, however, seemed an odd be- 
 ing, and my rooms a dark corner : and I was 
 every hour imbibing prejudices against Ch. Ch. 
 ' — ^Nor was it long before imagination set forth
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. " 85 
 
 another College in alluring colours : and 1 resolved 
 to fly to Trinity, where the high-priest of the Muses 
 would hail me to his bower*. In consequence 
 of my importunities, my Cornish guardian made 
 an effort to remove me from Christ Church toTrini- 
 ty-j-. But, with an urbanity such as I scarcely ever 
 witnessed in any other, a cordiality indeed it 
 might be called (for his civilities were from the 
 heart), the Dean soon determined my abode 
 within his walls ; recommending me to Gwillim 
 and his party, and indulging me with the liberty 
 of visiting my friends in other Colleges long after 
 the closing of the gates, as announced by " mighty 
 Tom." 
 
 Gwillim had read Chesterfield : and Chester- 
 field I had been taught to consider as immoral. 
 But I found in my new acquaintance the steady, 
 thoughtful man, and was indebted to his conversa- 
 tion for many a pleasant and many aprofitable hour. 
 
 To my studies I returned with avidity, and 
 soon with satisfaction, though with no improper 
 exultation, observed, that at lecture I could read 
 Thucydides not less fluently than the Students 
 
 * A legendary tale, entitled," The Cave of Lemorna," had been 
 submitted to Warton's criticism by a common friend ; and his opi- 
 nion of the author was expressed nearly in Mason's words, when 
 speaking (as will hereafter be recorded) of my Theocritus : " By 
 the judicious application of such powers, the young poet (he said) 
 might do great things." 
 
 t Visiting Oxford at this time he (from the Sun) sent a note 
 to the Dean, and another to my tutor ; desiring them to name 
 the hour, when he should wait upon them. The Dean's answer 
 was " the first moment convenient to Mr. Collins ;" Randolph's 
 was (on the back of Mr. ColUns's note) — " 10 o'clock." Truly 
 characteristic of the writers !
 
 86 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 from Westminster. Nor, composing my themes, 
 was I deceived in those expectations of notice 
 which emulation naturally cherishes, but which are 
 damped, in some instances, by the partialities of 
 the Censor. At the end of a Term, also, I ex- 
 perienced something more than a mere formal 
 attention to my collections. In truth, that the 
 sentiments of the College were in my favour, two 
 of Fell's Exhibitions, voluntarily conferred on me, 
 were surely no equivocal proof. And, had I con- 
 fined myself to College Exercises, it was the opi- 
 nion of Dr. Bathurst (Canon of Christ Church), that 
 I should have won the wreaths of victory in the 
 various contests for academical honours. But, 
 unfortunately, my Bath and Bristol friends, Mrs. 
 Macaulay and Dr. Wilson (son of the good Bishop 
 of Sodor and Man), Mrs. Hannah More, Mr. 
 Rack, and the Rev. Mr. Towgood (one of the best 
 Vv^-iters in the Biographia Britannica), had flattered 
 the Schoolboy's Muse ; and I continued to accu- 
 mulate stanzas upon stanzas, as inclination prompt- 
 ed. It is true, Tom Warton himself had spoken 
 well of my " Cave of Lemorna ;" and a poetical 
 " Epistle from Rosamond to Henry'''' was thought 
 worthy of a place among Mrs. Macaulay's " Mis- 
 cellaneous Works," — a quarto volume, which its 
 republican principles have induced her friends to 
 advise her to suppress. I had, likewise, invoked 
 *' The Spirit of Frazer" in an ode * : and in a 
 
 ♦ It was published in 1778, and had, it seems, " poetic fire." 
 " The mountain bird. 
 Whose voice in Snowdon's cloud is heard," &c. &c. 
 was produced as a specimen. See Critical Review for that year.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 87 
 
 little satiric sketch, I had laughed at " The Follies 
 ofOxfordr 
 
 During the next long vacation at Truro, I trans- 
 lated Claudian's Rape of Proserpine. And, re- 
 turning to Oxford, I hailed Erasmus Darwin * 
 (who had been visiting the mines in Cornwall), an 
 intelligent and enlightened companion. We parted 
 at Bristol, with tears reciprocally shed ! So rapid 
 in their growth are the friendships of the young ! 
 To relieve my mind from its distress in parting 
 from so dear a friend (the friend of a few hours), 
 I flew to Hannah More ; and, happening to have 
 then in my pocket " Wolcot's Epistle to the Re- 
 viewers," I very civilly put it into her hands, and 
 desired her to read it aloud for the amusement of 
 the company — a groupe of young ladies (parlour- 
 boarders) and others. This she did, with a good 
 grace ; nor even iaultered while reading, 
 
 " Could gold succeed, enough Carlisle might raise. 
 Whose wealth would buy the Critics o'er and o'or ; 
 
 'Tis merit only can command their praise — 
 Witness the volumes of Miss Hannah More ! 
 
 * The Search for Happiness,' — that glorious song 
 
 Which all of us would give our ears to own — 
 ' The Cajitive, Percy,' that like mustard strong, 
 Make our eyes weep, and understandings groan." 
 
 She paused, indeed, at *' the Captive, Percy,*' 
 
 * Erasmus Darwin drowned himself. According to Miss Se- 
 ward, his father Dr. Darwin " sorrowed not" at his death. Yet 
 from a letter (which I shall print in a subsequent page) who 
 would have supposed it ?
 
 88 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 &c. affecting not to recollect her " Inflexible Cap- 
 tive," and asking me, why '• Percy " was alluded 
 to, as in captivity ? 
 
 I was now again at Oxford : and, with regard 
 to my society, I was ere long convinced, that un- 
 remitting exertion was necessary to secure a cre- 
 ditable acquaintance; and, acting upon this con- 
 viction, I was happy. Under all circumstances, 
 indeed, we should do well to remember, 
 
 " Nil sine magno 
 
 Vita labore 'iedit mortalibus." 
 
 At Christ Church I have succeeded in forming 
 connexions the most valuable — connexions which 
 probably through life will soothe my cares, and 
 heighten my enjoyments. 
 
 My first associate in College was Hazlewood, 
 and my last was Errington : — with Hazlewood I 
 am now sufficiently intimate, to be sensible of his 
 good qualities — to respect the soundness of his 
 principles. With him I was lectured by Ran- 
 dolph, and with him I have been examined for my 
 degree by three Masters of Arts, with one of 
 whom only we were acquainted, and that but 
 slightly. It was our wish to challenge an impar- 
 tial scrutiny. Though with Hazlewood I had ob- 
 tained my testimonials for a Bachelor*s degree, 
 yet I put on a Civilian's gown with Errington *. 
 
 * So pleased was I with Errington's gentlen)anly manners and 
 conversational talents, that often since his fall (for he fell in- 
 deed !) have I regretted that I ever knew him. He fell from 
 
 the love and madness of a mistress — the love that seduced, and 
 the madness that murdered him I
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 89 
 
 It was at Randolph's rooms, I met Errington. 
 There we breakfasted together ; and our tutor, 
 thus at parting, was uncommonly civil. But the 
 assistance of Errington was not wanted for the 
 developement of ai) amiable character; to which 
 few of us " illiberal Under-graduates" (as about 
 two years since his rival Jackson called us) were 
 to do justice. To his erudition we bowed down 
 unanimously : to his classical taste we did homage. 
 But such was the ungraciousness of his manner, 
 that it was long, before his anxiety for the welfare 
 of his pupils was felt with a becoming gratitude *. 
 
 I mentioned Jackson -f. When Censor, he once, 
 you must know, called me out to read a Latin 
 Theme, as one of the best of his J'asciculus. Collier 
 advanced beyond the ranks. He called again, — 
 and Hollier went forth. The Censor frowned — 
 and every eye was on Po/wliele J. 
 
 Though apparently austere, Jackson was less 
 unbending than Randolph. I had, just before I 
 left Oxford, the honour of supping with him, at 
 his rooms ; and our supper might have shone dis- 
 tinguished in the Nodes Atticoe. Seasoned with 
 
 o 
 
 biographical anecdote, we enjoyed the treat, 
 though he had st}led our mathematical class " Il- 
 liberal Under-graduates." 
 The pleasantness, however, of Dr. Bathurst's 
 
 * His subsequent exaltation to the episcopal throne, was but 
 the just reward of merit rarely seen. 
 
 t The late Bishop of Oxford, brother to Dean Jackson, who 
 had recommended him to the Bishopric. 
 
 X Which corroborates what I observed on the English pronun- 
 ciation of the name. Sec Chapter I. Section I.
 
 90 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 suppers was beyond description. With two of 
 my relations, the ColHnses, Dr. B. had been ac- 
 quainted at school and in College ; and had I not 
 been averse, as I am, to a college life, would pro- 
 bably have exalted me to the rank of Student. 
 His good humour, his wit, and his classic inge- 
 nuousness, will never fade from my memory. 
 '* Tell Collins I shoot less, and read more '' (though 
 we used to hail the Canon in his shooting dress), 
 was his message at our last interview *. 
 
 I am now among dignitaries — I shall not quit 
 them abruptly. From Bathurst we pass in an in- 
 stant to Small well's house, without, however, 
 scaling the walls, or entering the chamber window. 
 Smallwell, as a Sub-dean, was said to be morose. 
 Reading our declamations in the hall, we were, in 
 general, tolerated in a voice scarcely audible. So 
 far were we from declaiming, that we were very 
 imperfectly heard. Dr. S. was impatient of such 
 listlessness or indifference. " Eloquere," he used 
 to exclaim; and then "Eloquere aut descendas !" 
 and then, if his warning were still vain, *' De- 
 scendas cum ignominia !" 
 
 Of Kennicott, who resided in the great qua- 
 drangle, I knew little or nothing in College, ex- 
 cept that he played chess with Hannah More, and 
 that he pronounced the words " Lama Sahach- 
 
 * The enthusiasm with which he then quoted a passage from 
 Warton's History of Poetry has not even now lost its effect, 
 awakening to my fancy the dreams of early days, when visions 
 were more pleasing than realities, and fictions more agreeable 
 than truth.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 91 
 
 thani" which, with Bagot, were " Lama Sabach- 
 thani.'" 
 
 With two anecdotes of Dr. Wheeler and Dr. 
 Bagot I shall take leave of the Dean and Canons. 
 The anecdotes are trifling in themselves, but they 
 are illustrative of character. In this light they are 
 valuable. On Fool's-day, Dr. Wheeler, when Sub- 
 dean, was broken in upon by several Under-gra- 
 duates, among whom was myself. Informed that 
 1 was sent for by the Sub-dean to answer for some 
 neglect, I waited upon him, full of apprehension ; 
 but before I could well make my apologies, 
 "O! Sir I" (said the good Doctor) " don't be 
 alarmed ! This is only a little piece of jocularity. 
 Perhaps you are not aware of All Fools." He 
 was treated in the same manner by others, but 
 laughed only at the joke. Who, reflecting on an 
 incident like this, would not see in Dr. W. good 
 nature and affability? And is not a character 
 often more clearly developed in the statement of 
 a single trivial circumstance, than by whole pages 
 of generalities ? Dr. W. died soon after of apo- 
 plexy. It was a stroke that was felt through the 
 College in one tremidous, mournful sensation. The 
 Dean read the funeral service ; but he faultered — 
 his voice was inarticulate, and he melted into tears*. 
 
 * There is a Memoir of Dr. Cyril Jackson in the Gent, Mag. 
 Nov. 1819, pp 459 — 463. It is there stated that Dr. J. " revived 
 what were termed Collections." This is not the fact. To Dr. 
 Bagot, the former Dean, the revival of Collections is justly attri- 
 butable. And the following letter from Jcademicus (Gent. Mag. 
 Dec. 1819, p. 486), places the merits of these two admirable 
 characters in their true light : — " Dr. Bagot, Dean in my time, 
 and just raised to the episcopacy when I was leaving College,
 
 92 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 My distance from Oxford to Truro was very 
 considerable ; and, never much amused by travel- 
 ling, I had little satisfaction on the road ; except- 
 ing once, when, a good social party on horseback, 
 we turned our faces towards the West. We were 
 six in company *. We galloped over Salisbury 
 Plain with delight. We rode around and amidst 
 the stupendous ruins of Stonehenge. We paused 
 in silent contemplation ; and we resumed our 
 
 was himself a disciplinarian. Collections at the end of every 
 Term, when we were all strictly examined, existed before I be- 
 came a member of Christ Church ; and the themes and declama- 
 tions every Saturday, and the prize exercises, and the public and 
 private lectures in the mathematics, in logic and rhetoric, &c. 
 &o. &c. all existed long before Jackson !" And when it is recol- 
 lected who the lecturers were — Randolph (afterwards Bishop of 
 London), and Jackson (Cyril's brother, afterwaids Bishop of 
 Oxford), who will for a moment conceive that severity was not 
 the order of the day ? — that any degiee of irregularity could have 
 passed uncensured ? " They were both (Academicus proceeds to 
 say) estimable characters — Bagot the most estimable. Bagot 
 was noble in family and noble in deportment. He was generous, 
 affable, and courteous ; and, in the true sense of the word, a 
 Christian." By the bye, was that " high-mindedness" — that 
 " pride of soul " — so much praised by Jackson's biographer, per- 
 fectly consistent with Christian humility ? At " sixty-four, the 
 Dean thought he had toiled enough !" and betook himself to 
 an obscure village. Query. — If Jackson, as the " emeritus miles," 
 thus stepped into retirement, may not others at his age relinquish 
 their public duties ? — No, it may be said, few have laboured 
 like Jackson. In my opinion, thousands of parish priests have 
 laboured more effectually than Jackson for the good of their 
 fellow-creatures, from their ordination to their grand climacteric. 
 * Of whom one only (a friend esteemed above them all) yet 
 lingers on this side of the grave. We then truly rejoiced in our 
 youth.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 93 
 
 course in all its velocity ! Of all the places 
 which we visited, Stoiirhead had the most attrac- 
 tions. But the statue of the sleeping Naid, and 
 Cardinal Bembo's lines, and Pope's translation, 
 are so well known, that I notice them here only 
 for the sake of an incident, which the gardener 
 mentioned whilst we were looking at the marble 
 tablet. ** A labourer in the garden (he said) had 
 been just delivered from a swan, which would 
 have drowned him, but for timely assistance. 
 The swan was surrounded by her cygnets ; the 
 man had carelessly approached the margin of the 
 water, and she flew at him, and beating him 
 with her strong pinion, had almost gained the 
 mastery over him, when a person ran to his res- 
 cue." Here may be nothing of novelty to the 
 naturalist ; but, to memorize a fact of this sort, 
 may operate as a caution, and may virtually save 
 a life. 
 
 To the country I had eagerly looked forward 
 whilst detained within the walls of Christ Church 
 by Herodotus *, Aristotle, and Euclid. 1 had 
 
 * Perhaps the admirers of Dean Jackson would have disap- 
 proved of Bagot's indulgence to me on this occasion. Our Cor- 
 nish party were, one from Cambridge, and the others from 
 Exeter and Trinity Colleges in Oxford, which knew nothing of 
 Collections. They were ready to set off, and might have left me 
 in the lurch, had not the Dean admitted me to his library on the 
 day before the public examinations. It was on a Sunday morn- 
 ing, when, kindly assenting to my petition, he desired me to 
 
 construe a few pages of x\ristotle's Poetics ; after which 
 
 operation he asked me some questions respecting Cornwall, and 
 wished me a pleasant journey.
 
 94i TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 often anticipated the calm delight I should expe- 
 rience amidst the old oaks of a valley at Polwhele, 
 which I intended to connect with the elms conti- 
 guous to the house by a new and extensive plan- 
 tation. But no sooner was I arrived at Truro 
 than I began with impatience to prepare for some 
 immediate establishment, and to grasp in idea 
 both at a living and a wife. A rectory, indeed, 
 situated near my little estate, had been, for some 
 time, in prospect. But clouds were now gathering 
 to intercept the view ; and, in short, I have suf- 
 fered a sore disappointment, in losing a valuable 
 living which I was almost on the point of pos- 
 sessing. In youthfid minds, however, the feeling 
 of disappointment is not lasting ; and Truro hath 
 a charm to dissipate such feelings *. Yet I liave 
 been long prevented from enjoying " the feast of 
 reason and the flow of soul," by a severe illness, 
 from which I bless God for my recovery; and with 
 gratitude I attribute to Wolcot, a skilful and a 
 kind physician (though a bad man), my restoration 
 from death almost to life. It was during the deli- 
 rium of the fever that I invoked " Sleep," in cer- 
 tain stanzas 
 
 O come, the oblivious balm ditfusc. 
 
 And bid the dread idea fly. 
 Ere death descend in freezing dews. 
 
 And film, alas ! the darken'd eye, 
 
 * The pleasures of conversation were then infinitely beyond 
 its present boast, though then Truro had no " Cornwall Li- 
 brary," no *' Royal Institution, Literary or Philosophical."
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 95 
 
 Haste, haste, and listen to thy suppliant's prayer. 
 And, tho' death's image, to my bed repair ! 
 'Tis his the throbbing pulse to still, 
 'Tis his the burning lid to close : 
 
 Yet, *ere the mortal numbness chill, 
 Seal once my eyes in soft repose I 
 How sweet, thus lifeless, without life to lie ! 
 Thus, without dying, O how sweet to die ! 
 
 Here, it will be perceived, I borrowed my ideas 
 from " Somne levis," &c. &c. as translated by 
 Wolcot. My Ode to Sleep, therefore, was closed 
 with a peculiar propriety of allusion *. 
 
 With respect to our little provincial town, let 
 me observe, that a Miss D. -}- is, at this moment, 
 the animating soul of the place. 
 
 * An ingenious and good humoured correspondent of Mr. Ur- 
 ban says : " These beautiful lines were written by Tom Waton, 
 to be placed under the statue of Somnus, in the garden of his 
 friend James Harris, the Salisbury philologist." " I have seen 
 (Jie adds) not less than twenty translations, but I consider Dr. 
 Wolcot's the best."— Gent. Mag. Feb. 1819, p. 116. 
 
 t To her shrine the poet, of course, devoted his " selectest 
 
 sweets." Miss D was, comparatively, a child j but her 
 
 spirit, her wit, and accomplishments, the music of her voice and 
 the elegance of her manners, her affability and gentleness, and, 
 above all, her filial piety — is it possible that any human being, 
 much less a poet, could be insensible to such perfections ? 
 Vapid, therefore, will appear these lines which Wolcot wrote, 
 currente calamo, on a blank page of my Beattie's " Minstrel." 
 
 " In ancient days, great Jove, to show 
 To gazing mortals here below. 
 The Loves, the Virtues, and the Graces, 
 Was forced to form three female faces. 
 But (so improv'd his art divine !) 
 In one fair female now they shine !
 
 96 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 But here I must break off abruptly. It is a 
 grandis epistola but not verhosa ! Yet I am sen- 
 
 Aloud I hear a reader cry : 
 •* Lord," to the poet, " what a lie !" 
 
 Now, as I hate the name of liar. 
 Sweet Dickenson I I do desire i 
 
 You'll see this unbelieving Jew, 
 And prove that all I 've said is true." 
 
 I have spoken of her filial piety: in this she was exemplary. And 
 the wounds mutually inflicted on each other by her parents, in the 
 bitter domestic skirmish, it was always in her power to heal. Old 
 D. had judgment and information, and his wife shrewdness. They 
 had a son, too, who would have done them almost equal honour 
 with their daughter, had not a fatal irresolution prevented him 
 from improving his fine talents and genius. Here was an- 
 other family, with which Dr. Wolcot was almost domesticated — 
 but they are gone! Miss D. married a IMr. M. and died in 
 Ireland, leaving a little girl, who, I hear, is the very image of 
 herself. It was in parties of which Wolcot and Miss D. were 
 the enlivening spirits, that I passed many delightful hours. 
 There we often met Miss G. who had a certain naivete extremely 
 interesting, and whose elegant finger on the pianoforte was one 
 of her most agreeable recommendations. The following is a 
 happy compliment of Wolcot's to this lady's musical abilities : 
 
 *' When sweet Cecilia sought the skies. 
 
 In tears were all the tuneful wits ; 
 The fiddles pour'd chromatic sighs. 
 
 And musick had hysteric fits. 
 But, ere she vanished, thus she said : 
 
 ' A short farewell I mean to bid ye;' 
 To keep her word, the harmonious maid 
 
 Appears in form of Betsy Giddy ! " 
 
 Miss Giddy was pleased with so fine a piece of flattery, but 
 much puzzled about Cecilia, of whose saintship she had never 
 heard ; when Miss D. and myself concurred in informing her, 
 that Cecilia was the great grandmother of Kirkman the harpsi-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 97 
 
 sible enough of my numerous deficiencies. To 
 you I leave reproof, correction, and advice ; 
 which, be assured, will be taken in good part. 
 Not to detain you longer, I beg you will con- 
 sider me ever 
 
 Your friend, R. P. 
 
 H. M. to R. P. 
 
 Sir, London, Feb. 7, 1778. 
 
 I hope you will excuse my not having answered 
 your letter sooner ; nothing but the hurrying and 
 tumultuous way of life I have been engaged in 
 coidd excuse me in my own opinion; and this 
 apology, I hope, will also vindicate me in your's. 
 
 When I received your manuscripts at Bristol 
 I was very ill, which, joined to the preparations 
 for my journey, so entirely engrossed me, that I 
 had little leisure for writing. I desired, however, 
 a common friend to assure you, that I had read 
 your Poems with great pleasure, and begged her 
 to acquaint you with my approbation of them. I 
 thought them very ingenious and poetical. 
 
 chord-maker. To this circumstance I alluded in an Epistle to 
 
 a young Lady, written at Truro in 1779 : 
 
 *' How honour'd I feel, my dear girl, to escort ye. 
 When a tune is propos'd, to your pianoforte ; 
 Then flow the full numbers, so soft and so clear. 
 Such harmonies ravish the musical ear. 
 That in fancy I've seen the celestials approve. 
 And Kirkman's own grandmother bend from above !" 
 
 See Cornwall and Devon Poems, II. 155, 
 H
 
 98 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Very little has appeared this winter in the lite- 
 rary, and hardly any thing in the poetical world ; 
 for I do not honour with the dignified appellation 
 of Poetry, those scandalous productions which 
 start up every day, and which are eagerly bought 
 and read, only because they are scandalous : they 
 die away with the temporary circumstances which 
 gave birth to them, and are no more remembered. 
 
 I am much obliged for your compliments on 
 my Tragedy ; its success has exceeded my most 
 sanguine hopes : it is acted to-night, the seven- 
 teenth time. I remain, Sir, your most obedient 
 humble servant, H. M. 
 
 Mrs. Macau LAY ^o R. P. 
 
 Sir, Bath, August 23, 1778. 
 
 My having been continually upon the road has 
 prevented me from answering the favour of your 
 letter dated May 11th. Your Poem of Henry 
 and Rosamond will, in my estimation, be a valua- 
 ble adition * to my miscellamous * works. Your 
 merits as a Poet, I assure you, without compli- 
 ment, I have heard much applauded by better 
 
 * This celebrated Historian (it is well known) was not an or- 
 thographist. My good old fiiend Cruttwell shewed me once a 
 MS. in her hand-writing, the bad spelling of which proved a very 
 inaccurate acquaintance with the English language. Yet this 
 MS. contained passages of even Ciceronian eloquence.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 99 
 
 judges than myself. I am. Sir, your much obliged 
 and obedient humble servant, 
 
 Catharine Macaulay. 
 Dr. Wilson desires his best compliments. 
 
 We now print *' Rosamond." 
 
 Rosamond lo Henry. — A School Exercise. 
 
 To her dear Henry, on a hostile strand. 
 His Rosanionda writes with trembling hand — 
 To tell what pangs her beating bosom move. 
 How strong the tumults of forsaken Love ; 
 To tell how fast the tear of sorrow flows 
 From a poor martyr to a thousand woes I 
 
 If lone amidst these winding walks T stray. 
 Where Isis from the mourner steals away ; 
 Where every fading floret droops its bell. 
 And Melancholy chills the sunless dell ; 
 Where grots and summer glades had once the power 
 To speed the pinions of the flying hour — 
 I sink, and scarcely reach with feeble knee. 
 And grasp the first imsympathizing tree ! 
 Ah ! what a storm of passion shakes my frame! 
 How thrills through every nerve the glowing flame I 
 No gleam of hope, no pause from grief I boast — 
 All — all the firmness of my soul is lost I 
 Cheerless, I sicken at the rising sun. 
 And wish, ere noon, his lingering journey done : 
 From bower to bower my vagrant feet repair. 
 But nought I gather but despondence there. 
 
 Dear sacred shades ! where Henry once and I 
 Resign'd the melting hours to love and joy ! 
 Sweet glooms ! no more your secret haunts I hail ! 
 No more the blisses of the sheltering vale ! 
 Ye feather 'd tribes, that flit on frolic wing, 
 Or, shaking the light sprays, salute the Spring — 
 Ah ! cease your songs ! And thou, my favourite Rose, 
 No more thy fragrant breath thy blooms disclose ! 
 H 2
 
 100 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Ah ! from each boding bird the mournful wail. 
 That wooes the midnight echo of the dale. 
 In concert mingles with the sobs that rise 
 From a full heart, and all its burst of sighs. 
 
 When evening glimmers thro' her mist of gray. 
 And streaks with crimson all the western day. 
 What time we listen'd to the shepherd's strain. 
 And many a murmur from the cottag'd plain; 
 What time the rustic maid, amidst the grove, 
 Lean'd on her Colin's arm, and whisper'd love — 
 (The rustic maid, her constant lover's care. 
 For homebred Truth and Innocence are there ; 
 For there no daemon lurks with impious leer 
 To dash the eye of virtue with a tear) ; 
 Whilst o'er the green the last light zephyr blows. 
 And the rills tinkle, and the woods repose : 
 Then how I feel the miseries of my fate. 
 And heave wild wishes for the peasant state. 
 And, O ! repine at Heaven's severe decree, 
 Since Fortune seems to smile on all but me. 
 
 Soon as the shades of Darkness veil the sky. 
 And hide the mountain from the straining eye ; 
 When slumbei's sweet the wearied ploughman shares. 
 And lost in golden visions sleep his cares. 
 Thy Rosamond, worn out with watching, faints, 
 Or wounds the ear of midnight with her plaints. 
 Nor Reason's voice has influence to controul 
 The guilty fears that crowd upon my soul ! 
 
 Amidst the witchery of these rosy scenes, 
 StUl conscience stings my breast, and fires my veins ! 
 
 When on the wings of love my Henry came, 
 'Tis true, too true, I own'd a mutual flame. 
 But though in speechless bliss my moments flovv'd. 
 What agonies in sure succession glow'd } 
 And pleasure left the poison of a dart — 
 A flame that ceaseless fester'd at my heart. 
 Far other joys (ere Henry met my view), 
 Far other joys iny peaceful bosom knew !
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 101 
 
 Ah ! see, where erst domestic comfort smil'd, 
 A father mourning his apostate child ; 
 A sire, who lov'd my Httle infant ways, 
 And cherish'd the quick blush with cordial praise ; 
 Who taught, that beauty like a flower must fade, 
 And bade me shun the snares by treachery laid. 
 
 Ah ! what avail'd that Virtue was my own — 
 That Truth around me as a sunbeam shone — 
 That plauding Conscience mark'd each fair design ! 
 Ah ! what avail'd that Innocence was mine ! 
 What, but to sharpen every poignant throe — 
 What, but to aggravate my weight of woe ! 
 
 While oft thro' Hope's delusive tracts I stray. 
 And court with anxious eyes a cheering ray. 
 Through sliadovvy avenues methinks I roam, 
 But hail at every step the lessening gloom : 
 Now as I go the light of pleasure gleams ; 
 Now o'er my walk a broader lustre beams : 
 And lo ! I deem (an opening vista nigh). 
 Some vista pointing to a happier sky ! 
 Straight from my view the fairy vision fleets. 
 And hags dance round, and flutter winding-sheets ! 
 Ah me 1 for guardian Angels to defend. 
 Foul imps of Darkness all my paths attend ! 
 Here, as his shaft impatient Hatred flings. 
 Remorse its fury to my bosom wings ! 
 Here cold Contempt with gloomy smile appears. 
 And Envy points malignant at my tears. 
 
 Curst be the hour, in transport when I hung » 
 
 On the smooth accents of Seduction's tongue ; 
 When grandeur its imperial robe displayed 
 To the fond wonder of a weetless maid ! 
 
 Here, distant every friend that once could save, 
 I drop — an early victim to the grave ! 
 The harlot of these shades shall soon afford 
 To History's sullied tome the black record : 
 E'en distant ages shall my crime proclaim. 
 And couple thy po(ir Rosamond with shame !
 
 102 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 While matron Prudence shall each trace abhor. 
 Each slippery path that points to Woodstock's bower ; 
 Nor shall that eve which thrills the cottage maid. 
 Boast such a phantom as my beckoning shade. 
 
 Yet when detraction from thy fair-one's name 
 Revolting aims to vilify her fame, 
 Some tender Poet may perchance arise. 
 And rigid Censure yield to Pity's sighs ; 
 The Muse of Elegy lament my fate. 
 And my sad tale melodiously relate. 
 What though no sire receive my parting breath. 
 Where sympathy assuaged the pangs of death 5 
 What though no mutes around my ashes wait, 
 Nor the long funeral gloom in 'scutcheon'd state j 
 Though still, still darkening o'er my grave the yew. 
 From its pestiferous boughs shall drop the dew ; 
 Yet shall the Bard with roses deck my tomb. 
 And cloath my relics in unfading bloom. 
 But whither does my fever'd spirit stray. 
 And whirl me in delirium wild away ! 
 Ah ! what avails it to the unconscious dead. 
 That fancies fill the youthful Poet's head .' 
 Alike to me the censure or the praise. 
 To blot or bleach the page of future days ! 
 
 From realm to realm may kite-like Scandal sail. 
 And pounce upon my fame — a murderous tale ! 
 I care not for myself — thy sire's disgrace 
 Is all I blush for — his degraded race ! 
 Worlds for one smile, to bid his daughter live 
 In solitude and silence, would I give ! 
 Say, if a child so valued once should seek 
 That sign of pardon on a parent's cheek. 
 Would Clifford lift with frowns his hoaiy head. 
 While prostrate at his feet Affection bled ! 
 Shall Sin and Sorrow have a fear to go 
 To the lone mansion of paternal woe ? 
 ' Tis but the mockery of Repentance here 
 Breathes the false sigh, and sheds the unholy tear.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 103 
 
 Come, then, O, Rosamond ! O, come, repair 
 
 To bowers once foster'd by a father's care ! 
 
 And hail, in humble weeds, that calm abode. 
 
 Where Penitence shall guide thee to thy God ! 
 
 Ah ! flattering dreams ! Ah ! fond illusions ! fly ! 
 
 What threadless mazes meet my maddening eye! 
 
 Where frowning slaves now creep, conceal'd from sight, 
 
 Now crowd each avenue that leads to light ! 
 Yet here my lips in vain attempt to raise 
 
 To Heaven faint accents of imperfect praise. 
 
 In vain I bid divine Repentance come. 
 
 To soften with a tear so dire a doom ; 
 
 Whilst, gnawing my poor heart, the vultures prey, 
 
 Or seem to snatch me from the realms of day. 
 Such are the horrors that around me rise — 
 
 Such are the scenes that shock these dying eyes. 
 
 If Rosamond be still to Henry dear, 
 
 Such are the tales that wound her Henry's ear. 
 
 For Love's soft couch, for social pleasure made. 
 No wolf e'er nurs'd thee in the desart shade. 
 Why, why, then, dazzled by the fields of fight. 
 To war resign the rose-hues of delight ? 
 By all these haunts I pray — by yonder grove 
 (Where once we look'd unutterable love). 
 By yon fair orb, descending o'er the slain. 
 Which gilds, perchance, thy tents that skirt the plain j 
 By eve's mild star, that soon my lot shall mourn. 
 In stillness hovering o'er thy fair-one's urn — 
 O, quit, my Henry, q\iit the ensanguin'd field j 
 Nor let thine heart to Sorrow's plaint be steel'd ! 
 
 Though oft, when all their storm the passions raise. 
 My pen the madness of my soul betrays ; 
 Though I have curs'd " the moment when I hung 
 In rapture on Seduction's specious tongue j" 
 Though, as caprice or conscience may incline. 
 With hurried hand I trace the incongruous line ; 
 Though I am well nigh sunk in Trouble's sea. 
 Yet still this bosom fondly beats for thee.
 
 104 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Then, by our loves, O think how round me wait, 
 The inexorable ministers of Fate ! 
 Think how I shudder, with no vain presage — 
 How shudder at thy consort's restless rage ! 
 O come, lest my pale corpse affright the wood, 
 And arbours, once voluptuous, blush with blood ! 
 
 Perhaps e'en now, through every secret maze. 
 Through every grove, and all the winding ways. 
 The venom'd bowl may hunt the guilty foe. 
 And daggers thirst to triumph in the blow ! 
 Alas ! why write I thus ! — From shade to shade. 
 From walk to walk — from stream to stream convey 'dj 
 In fury through the windings of the grove, 
 And all its depths and thickets though they rove ; 
 Though Jealousy its trembling prey pursue, 
 And Vengeance to my bower detect the clue — 
 Will Henry leave abrupt the pomp of War, 
 To give a pining mistress all his care ? 
 Whilst banner'd glory, 'midst the clang of arms. 
 My Henry's throbbing breast with transport warms ; 
 Whilst Slaughter seals the irrevocable doom. 
 Where thousands crowd the chambers of the tomb, 
 Shall Pity, pouring her low sighs, pervade 
 The proud pavilion, or the spectred shade ? 
 O, whilst the roar of battle stuns his ear. 
 The faultering voice of Love shall Henry hear ? 
 
 Perhaps some captive's all-subduing charms — 
 Some stranger-maid attracts thee to her arms ; 
 Some blooming virgin, whose impassion'd eye 
 Darts its soft beams, and prompts the blissful sigh. 
 Her's be thy love 5 for faded, though so fond. 
 For lost to joy is thy poor Rosamond. 
 Soon on these lips shall hang the quivering breath. 
 And soon these languid eyes shall close in death. 
 Yet would my Spirit through the 'oattle glow. 
 And from my Henry's head avert the blow ; 
 Bind with a roseate wreath thy conquering blade. 
 And with perennial bays thy temples shade !
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 105 
 
 J. C. to R. P. Esq. 
 
 Dear Sir, Ledbury, April 29, 1778. 
 
 As your last letter did not require an imme- 
 diate answer, I have suffered it to lie by me unac- 
 knowledged till this time — longer, I find by look- 
 ing at the date, than I intended. But my time 
 has been more taken up in the interval than usual. 
 And after all I have little else to say, than to re- 
 peat to you, that whenever your other engage- 
 ments wdll allow you, whether those of business in 
 College, or of amusement in vacation, here you 
 will find me glad to see you. Let me, however, 
 congratulate you upon being settled in College ; 
 and though your rooms may not be such as you 
 might wish for, yet perhaps you may be well off 
 in a College so much frequented to get any 
 rooms ; and if you choose to mend your situation, 
 opportunities, no doubt, will soon offer of others 
 vacated by their present tenants, which you may 
 easily avail yourself of. In the mean time, for 
 your comfort, consider, that students of old have 
 sometimes been obliged to put up with narrow 
 lodgings. Does not your friend Horace hint at 
 something of that sort, when he tells his corre- 
 spondent — 
 
 Ad mare descendet vales tuum 
 
 Contractusque leget 
 
 Possibly at this Scarborough he had no more 
 light or elbow-room than you have at Christ 
 Church. 
 
 Pray have you yet received the letter I wrote to
 
 106 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 you at the Cross Inn ? If you have not, I wish you 
 to enquire for it. If you find that the people of 
 that house did not take it up, it is probably still at 
 the post-office. My reason for desiring you to 
 see it is, that it is unpleasing to have letters mis- 
 carry, and to fall into hands that they are not de- 
 signed for ; and besides, I do not wish to repeat, 
 though I wish you to see, what I wrote to you 
 about your tutor ; for 1 cannot help having my 
 fears, from the cast of your expressions in the 
 letter before me, that you have scarce got the 
 better of the disgust you received at first meeting. 
 I should indeed be truly sorry if you do not see 
 that gentleman in the same light with myself; 
 not merely because I recommended him to you, 
 but for your own sake j for there is seldom much 
 attention paid to those we dislike, and without 
 attention there can be but little profit. And then 
 my views in getting you to your present situation 
 must be frustrated ; for, believe me, it was your 
 emolument, and, consequently, your happiness, for 
 which I have a very sincere concern, that entirely 
 guided me in my recommendation. For my sake, 
 therefore, and your own too, let me beg of you 
 not to let a prejudice taken up of a sudden get 
 the better of your good sense, &c. &c. 
 
 Yours, &c.
 
 CORRESPONDKNCE. 107 
 
 J. C. to R. P. Esq. 
 
 My Dear Sir, Ledbury, July 2, 1778. 
 
 You give me so little hopes of seeing you here, 
 that 1 answer your letter, which I have just now 
 received, with a view to wishing you a good jour- 
 ney into Cornwall. 
 
 It gives me no little pleasure to find you so well 
 pleased with your introduction to Dr. Bathurst. 
 He is a gentleman from whose countenance and 
 conversation you will receive, I hope, much satis- 
 faction and instruction. This is a benefit that I 
 had all along in view for you, when I recom- 
 mended you to be placed where you might have 
 an easy access to him ; though I gave you no hint 
 of it before, thinking it might prove the more 
 agreeable to you, by being unexpected. It will 
 also, I hope, make amends for some of those little 
 circumstances which at setting out you have not 
 found exactly answering your wishes, and which 
 have consequently given you uneasiness. That 
 is what I should be very glad to remove, and there- 
 fore beg you will give me credit for my expe- 
 rience, when I tell you, that most people find some 
 matters disagreeable at first entering upon a new 
 mode of life, but which every day will render less 
 so. The want of acquaintance, for instance, is 
 one of these ; and it furnishes general complaint 
 to others, as well as yourself, yet it can scarce 
 be supposed that any man's conversation will be 
 much cultivated by those who do not know him. 
 He must have time to shew himself to make him-
 
 108 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 self known, and to get his character approved of 
 in general, before that can happen ; and then he 
 will find himself happy in the same social comforts 
 for which perhaps he has been envying others. 
 When you are something better acquainted with 
 Christ Church, and better known there, this, I 
 make no doubt, you will find to be the case ; for 
 I assure you that I felt, at first going to College, 
 all the uneasiness from solitude in the midst of 
 society that you can have met with, and would 
 have given sometliing to boot to have exchanged 
 my situation for the school that I had before been 
 impatient to leave. Yet this dull prospect in due 
 time brightened ; and you will soon find, when 
 you return to College, the same change for the 
 better, if you will but believe, and it is no more 
 than the truth, that you have but your share of 
 inconveniences, which all experience in their 
 turn, under one shape or other. 
 
 Let me entreat you, my dear cousin, to allow 
 me to give you courage to bear up against ob- 
 structions, and manfully to push your way ; and 
 I am sure, when you look back hereafter, you will 
 be pleased with the path that abounds with what- 
 ever is necessary or useful. You will be happy, 
 I trust, in the enjoyment of the various fruits that 
 you have gathered there ; and it will be no little 
 comfort to me also, to be thanked by you for 
 having pointed it out to you, and placed you in it. 
 
 Yours, &c. J. C* 
 
 * These letters of the late Mr. Collins (not selected from many 
 
 1
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 109 
 
 J. Randolph* to R. P. Esq. 
 
 Dear Sir, Ch. Ch. Oct. 14, 1779. 
 
 I received your letter last night, with a <^10. 
 bill enclosed. I am sorry to find that you intend 
 being absent from Oxford this Term ; if your 
 health is the occasion of it it is a sufficient ex- 
 cuse; otherwise I should hope you would not 
 shelter yourself under the indulgence of the Uni- 
 versity, and a few bad examples, in opposition to 
 what is more regular and more to your advantage. 
 The University, it is true, allows two Terms at the 
 utmost; but in College we expect every Under- 
 graduate to be resident, unless in case of illness, 
 or some other sufficient excuse ; and I know of 
 no instance to the contrary which has not met 
 with severe reprehension. I make no doubt but 
 you will go on with your Herodotus and Livy, 
 and take pains with them, but your absence will 
 be a great interruption in another respect, 3'our 
 attendance on public lectures ; and, indeed, before 
 the receipt of this, you will have lost the oppor- 
 tunity of being present at the opening of the next 
 course. However, I will mention your excuse to 
 the Dean. 
 
 With regard to the other subject of your letter, 
 I am sorry it should give you any uneasiness ; it 
 
 others in my possession, on account of their superior merit) are 
 a good specimen of epistolary correspondence. They were writ- 
 ten, no doubt, as rapidly as the pen could tiace them. Yet they 
 are far preferable to that long letter to George Hardinge, Esq, 
 which Mr. Collins himself published, 
 * The late Bishop of London.
 
 110 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 is not in my power to make the alteration ; all that 
 I could procure for you would be some casual civi- 
 lities, not w^orth the trouble they would cost ; but, 
 believe me, and I speak from long experience, the 
 cause of uneasiness is in yourself. In so large a 
 society every young man must be left to himself 
 to form his connexions, as his judgment and dis- 
 position may suggest ; but there cannot be want- 
 ing proper and creditable acquaintance to any man 
 who does but exert himself to seek them. Those 
 who come from public schools, come, without 
 doubt, with great advantages; their connexions, 
 in a great measure, are already formed, and they 
 have a knowledge of each other, which is of great 
 service to them if they use it with discretion. But 
 there are many others in the same situation with 
 yourself; many who have a large and good set of 
 acquaintance ; and you don't find others averse to 
 them because they have come from private schools, 
 though they may not be eager to seek their ac- 
 quaintance at first, as having enough already. 
 That an opinion is formed of you to your preju- 
 dice, at first setting out, is a mistake ; the whole 
 is, that you must exert yourself, and make your- 
 self agreeable to others, before you can expect to 
 be well received in a place of such liberty and. 
 such choice, and that you have a difficulty to get 
 over in the first opening. As an encouragement 
 to you, however, I have known those who have 
 lived for one, two, or three years, with little or no 
 acquaintance, and have then got over the difficulty. 
 But let me remind you, and it is of consequence
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. Ill 
 
 to you to understand it, that you will meet with 
 the same difficulties in the world, only on a larger 
 scale, unless you mean to confine yourself to a 
 place where the mere scarcity of inhabitants 
 makes every body acquainted : you should begin 
 to practice now what you will hereafter find so 
 much need of. In short, study to improve and 
 strengthen the powers of your own mind, and 
 then, with the help of a little address, you must 
 be acceptable to others; and that address must 
 be of your own acquiring, no man can supply the 
 place of it for you. Yours faithfully and sincerely, 
 
 John Randolph. 
 
 To R. P. Esq. 
 My Dear Sir, March 15, 17S2. 
 
 It gives Mr. C. and myself much pleasure to 
 find that, upon experience, you like Christ Church, 
 and consider the reputation of your College in the 
 light he described it, and in the light, too, in which 
 we may infer it is generally considered by those 
 who have knowledge, froi^ the compliment with 
 which the promotion of Dr. Bagot to the See of 
 Bristol was attended, from Majesty. A higher 
 commendation could not be given to any one 
 than that alluded to, when what it naturally in- 
 volves in it is fully weighed. Yours, &c. &c. 
 
 E.G.
 
 1 12 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 E. Rack to R. P. Esq. 
 
 Bath, Saturday evening. May 2, 1778. 
 Dear Friend, 
 
 Since I wrote thee last I have been mostly con- 
 fined to my room with a bad cold, fever, and return 
 of my cough. My frame received a violent shock, 
 about five years since, by a fever, which lasted near 
 two months, and I neither have, nor expect ever to 
 recover it fully. I seem to have passed the meri- 
 dian of life, and to be verging downward to that 
 valley which terminates in the shadow of death. 
 Perhaps I may descend it with unexpected cele- 
 rity. This, however, must be left (and I wish not 
 to be solicitously anxious about an event which 
 must be left) to the great Disposer of all things, 
 who will certainly do what is right. 
 
 But although I am not able to write much at 
 present, I could not omit acknowledging the re- 
 ceipt of thy packet, dated the 29th, inclosing the 
 letter and the poem, both which will do well for 
 the intended purpose, and shall have a place as 
 desired. 
 
 I have a high opinion of Tintadgel *, and think 
 
 * High o'er Tintadgel's echoing towers 
 
 Flew the dark genius of the blast ; 
 Around the scene the tempest lours. 
 
 And roars along the spectred waste. 
 Whilst the blue meteor stream'd with transient light. 
 The rolling thunder shook the shades of night. 
 
 ******** 
 ********
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 113 
 
 it not inferior to any of thy other productions. 
 The letter will require some little correction, but 
 
 But yester morn the smiling beam 
 Beheld our troops in bright array ; 
 
 Their helmets waver'd gleam on gleam ; 
 Flusht with warm hope they hail'd the day. 
 
 ******* 
 Alas ! how soon amid the slain 
 
 The dearest to Arvina's soul 
 Lies strecht on Rendro's loaded plain ! 
 
 How soon his eyes in darkness roll ! 
 From conquering Odred flew the avenging steel. 
 And the rocks echoed as the hero fell ! 
 
 Thy death-seal'd eyes shall now no more 
 
 In transport on Arvina gaze. 
 Beneath the green o'er-shading bower. 
 
 Where pleasure sang her thrilling lays. 
 No more, in Denmark, o'er the conscious grove, 
 Shall wanton Zephyr waft the voice of Love. 
 
 O'er thy pale corpse one humble stone — 
 Oh ! that some pitying hand would raise — 
 
 Some minstrel sigh the funeral moan. 
 Sweet as the bards of ancient days. 
 
 Oh ! that my love could give to thee a grave. 
 
 And steal thy actions from Oblivion's cave. 
 
 ******* 
 Hark ! 'tis a hollow sound of woe 
 
 O'er the dark towers assails my ear. 
 Hark ! hark ! the groan of death I know — 
 
 I see the lightning of a spear ! 
 'Tis Sweno ! or illusion mocks my eye — 
 He gleams, half viewless, thro' the broken sky. 
 I
 
 114 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 is a very good one, although written in such a vil- 
 lainous hand that it would puzzle Dr. Warburton 
 himself to pick out the meaning of sundry pas- 
 sages. I wish, however, thou wouldst give me 
 one in the humourous way — the sort we most want. 
 
 I have an ingenious young friend, who lives at 
 Chipping Norton; his name \s, Waring. He is 
 much pleased with thy poems, and intends calling 
 on thee when he comes to Oxford. He has writ- 
 ten me an excellent letter or two, in one of which 
 he has mentioned thy Ode to Mrs. M. with great 
 praise. 
 
 This young man is of an opulent family, a vir- 
 tuous youth, and very polite in his manners. 
 Take a little notice of him, and if thou canst 
 induce him to write to thee, he will be a most 
 pleasing correspondent. 
 
 Feebly she spoke ; and sank away 
 
 With bitter anguish to the grave ! 
 The pale ghost leaves the struggling clay. 
 
 While the last pangs of horror heave. 
 Thus, wrapt around by Midnight's howling shade, 
 Perish'd, alas ! the poor distracted maid. 
 
 Here oft (as pensive poets say) 
 
 Amid these melancholy walls 
 Arvina is yet seen to stray, 
 
 While many a mouldering fragment falls. 
 From yon dim rock her sighs incessant heave. 
 And join the murmurs of the restless wave. 
 
 An excerpt this, from an effusion of twenty-four stanzas, poured 
 out before the author had left school ! It was too late to lament, 
 when a son of alma mater, that he had neglected the Virgilian 
 Mvse.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 115 
 
 Mrs. Macaulay's health is but indifferent ; the 
 Doctor is bravely. Bath is full, but the company 
 mind dress and fiddles, and cantatas and cotillions, 
 more than reading, or any other rational employ- 
 ment. I will take particular care of the copy of 
 Tagtongtidal (what d'ye call it) — your breakteethly 
 Cornish names were never formed for English or- 
 gans — this is a bad word for poetry, and puts me 
 in mind of the jangling of three bells in Bathwick 
 church. 
 
 I have now an idea of my friend, in his scien- 
 tific gown, with square cap and nymph-inspiring 
 tassel dangling over his nose, poring in Aristotle 
 and the rest of the musty tribe, with stockings 
 ungartered, sipping mechanically out of an empty 
 tea- cup, while the water is boiling out of the tea- 
 kettle and quenching the fire. 
 
 The bell tolls — he starts — recollects his prayers 
 — says them — then prays most devoutly for the 
 sale of Lewellyn, " while the loud pealing organs 
 raise his soul to spheres Empyrean." Then he 
 returns to his studies — the bed-maker comes to 
 the door — '* Sir — Sir — Sir" — in vain, she might as 
 well address Homer's Iliad in the library. '* Sir — 
 Sir" — he is forming a syllogism, or unravelling 
 some knotty point of school divinity. " Sir " — at 
 length he starts from his reverie, says yes when 
 he meant no — she curtseys and withdraws. Bye 
 and bye some of his comrades come. " Dick " — 
 he hears them not ; they approach and twirl his 
 cap — " Polwhele — come, d — n your studies, let 
 us go to the coffee-house and have a bit of fun.*' 
 
 I 2
 
 116 TRADITIONS AND REC0LLBCTI0N9. 
 
 He looks up half waked from his repose in the 
 bosom of science, and, with a face of wonder, 
 asks them what they mean. They set up a horse- 
 laugh, d — n him for a book-worm, and — leave him 
 to better company. But this is only a momentary 
 freak of fancy, in one of her frolicsome moods ; 
 and, I am certain, will not (as it is not intended 
 to) give my friend offence. 
 
 To be serious ; I hope the Being who delights in 
 virtue will ever protect him in the paths of inno- 
 cence, which will assuredly lead to virtue's temple, 
 and end in that felicity for the attainment of which 
 life was given, and is only valuable. 
 
 May nothing divert his attention from the great 
 duties of his station, or draw him aside into the 
 secret snares which beset his path, and will, if 
 fallen into, retard his progress in that journey 
 which shall terminate in joy unspeakable. 
 
 I cannot comply with thy injunctions mjillmg 
 the sheet, i'or I find writing hurts my head ; my 
 spirits are stronger than the vehicle they actuate ; 
 and I sometimes think this hand, which now guides 
 the pen of friendship, will soon forget its cunning, 
 and become the food of reptiles in the grave. 
 
 What a curious fund of entertainment would 
 this letter be, were it to fall into the hands of 
 some of the choice sons of divinity and cham- 
 paigne ! Adieu, affectionately, E. Rack.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 11? 
 
 E. Rack to Charles Towgood. 
 
 My dear Friend, Bath, Nov. \6, 1778. 
 
 My silence to several of thine and thy brother's 
 letters has not proceeded from intentional neglect, 
 but from an incapacity of writing, occasioned by 
 near a month's indisposition. My complaint is 
 the yellow jaundice, in a high degree, and of an 
 obstinate kind. I have tried many things, but 
 find them all ineffectual. My apothecary fears its 
 a lost case. He thinks the liver has ceased to 
 perform its office, and to make its natural secre- 
 tions ; if so, my time in this world will probably 
 be short. I have long thought the " silver cord 
 would soon be broken." Be this as it may, the 
 prospect is solemn, although I hope I may say 
 with truth not dreadful. To leave this world and 
 all its comforts, to be separated from every thing 
 of which we can form any idea, to have every 
 connexion dissolved, and the most sacred ties of 
 friendship broken for ever, and to enter into a 
 new and untried state of being, is a change of 
 such magnitude, that it is too much for the mind 
 to contemplate, with tiiat calmness and precision 
 which becomes Christian fortitude and resignation. 
 Perhaps the frequent intimations 1 have received 
 of a transition from this state of being to another, 
 may have been in some degree profitable ; I wish 
 they had been still more so, by exciting a more 
 invariable attention through life to those things 
 which, in the awful hour of dissolution, will appeal 
 of unspeakable importance.
 
 118 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 The friendship which has subsisted between us 
 leads me to wish that, if my disorder should con- 
 tinue to increase, I might see thee here to take 
 one long, long farewell. But perhaps I may yet 
 find help. My case, though very dangerous, is 
 not absolutely desperate ; and, bad as this world 
 is, there are a few in it whom I wish not hastily to 
 leave. I wish, however, to feel my mind in that 
 state of resignation to the disposal of perfect wis- 
 dom and goodness which becomes me, and to 
 await the shock which nature must feel without a 
 murmur. 
 
 This little writing fatigues my spirits, and I 
 therefore only add that a few lines from thee will 
 do me good, and that I am most sincerely, thy 
 affectionate friend, Edmund Rack. 
 
 E. Rack to R. P. Esq. 
 Dear P. Bath, Nov. 19, 1778. 
 
 The occasion of my present writing is to give 
 thee a subject for a little poem, which I think is 
 quite adapted to thy genius. The following un- 
 fortunate circumstance gives it birth ; and, as it is 
 of a temporary nature, no delay can be admitted. 
 
 The Count du Barry, a Frenchman, and Count 
 Rice, a German, had been some time in Bath, and 
 lodged in one house in the Crescent. They were 
 intimate friends, and lived in the highest style. 
 On Tuesday last they had a great deal of com-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 119 
 
 pany to dine with them, among whom were the 
 Duke of Northumberland and General Burgoyne. 
 In the forenoon the two Counts had some dispute 
 (the cause of which is variously related), which 
 ended in a challenge given by Count Rice. Du 
 Barry then made his will ; and, when dinner was 
 served up, the Countess du Barry made an apology 
 to the company for the Count's absence from table. 
 Some of the company, from a visible flutter in her 
 countenance, suspected something was wrong, but 
 were too polite to make any enquiry. They dined, 
 spent the evening, and supped, and about one in 
 the morning retired. As soon as the company 
 were gone, the two Counts ordered a post coach 
 and four to the door, and at two in the morning, 
 with their seconds and a surgeon, got in and or- 
 dered the boys to drive up Claverton Down, a 
 high hill two miles East of Bath. When they got 
 up the hill they stopped in a plain part of it, be- 
 hind a thick wood of lofty firs, which covers several 
 hundred acres of the hill, and ordered the boys to 
 take off the horses and retire to the wood. It 
 was, however, very dark ; they therefore agreed to 
 sit in the coach till day-light, and did so. Between 
 six and seven tiiey got out and entered on the fatal 
 business, with three brace of pistols. Their se- 
 conds marked the ground, 20 paces; they then 
 both fired without effect. The seconds then 
 shortened their ground to 10 paces ; they then 
 faced each other again. Du Barry fired, and 
 lodged his ball in Count Rice's groin ; he fired 
 immediately, and sent his ball through Barry's
 
 120 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 heart. He leapt two yards from the ground and 
 fell ; raised himself a little, and attempted to 
 speak, but instantly fell again, and was dead in 
 less than a minute. 
 
 I think the circumstances of this horrid event 
 are so singular and striking that they will admit 
 of high poetical embelHshment. The act itself — 
 the retiring on such a black business in the dead 
 of the night, up a wild mountain, crowned with 
 gloomy firs, sitting there in that solitude, with an 
 impenetrable wood on one side and dreadful cliffs 
 on the other, waiting for the breaking forth of 
 day to execute their bloody purpose, are circum- 
 stances peculiarly favourable to poetry, and par- 
 ticularly to that species of it in which thou seemest 
 to excel. Here is great scope for imagination 
 and machinery. All the spectres of horror may 
 be introduced. 
 
 I therefore wish thee immediately to write an 
 elegy on the transaction, and send me by the 
 coach ; I will have it printed directly, and doubt 
 not its having a rapid sale. The city is struck 
 with a kind of horror. Call it the Duellists, the 
 Fatal Duel, or any better name. 
 
 I have been very poorly indeed till within a day 
 or two, but am something better. Thy packet is 
 gone to C. Towgood ; I expect his remarks next 
 week, and will transmit them ; at present can add 
 no more than that I am thine, affectionately, 
 
 E. Rack. 
 
 Count Rice it is thought will not recover.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 121 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 My dear Friend, Bath, Dec. 29, 1778. 
 
 Appearances of neglect are against me, but when 
 I have made my defence I doubt not of being ac- 
 quitted. When I received the Cave of Lemorna, 
 and the elegies, I was so bad I could not even 
 read them, much less give my opinion. I there- 
 fore sent them immediately to my friend Towgood, 
 requesting him to examine them and report his 
 sentiments without reserve. From him I received 
 them only on Saturday last ; so that I have not 
 lost much time, as I could not have answered thy 
 last letter to any good purpose sooner. I send 
 the copy of Rosamond also, but Tintadgel is in 
 Mr. Towgood's hands, with the Letters for the 
 Temple of Friendship, he having undertaken to 
 revise them. As soon as he returns them I will 
 send it. I have read the Cave of Lemorna with 
 my best attention, and really think it has many 
 beauties. It has, however, some imperfections, 
 most of which C. Towgood has pointed out in 
 his notes upon it, which I enclose herewith. 
 Thy poems are all full of fine imagery, flowing 
 from a luxuriant imagination, but want simplicity. 
 This must be obtained at the expence of many a 
 favourite flower. Let not this silence thy muse ; 
 it is the fault of all young writers of genius. 
 Where there is no blossom there can be no fruit ; 
 but the number may be retrenched by a skilful 
 hand, and in a manner that will promote the fruit- 
 fulness of the tree. These gardening ideas are
 
 122 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 suggested by an Essay on Horticulture, which I 
 have just been perusing, but the simile will hold 
 good in the general. I differ in opinion from thee 
 with respect to the elegies ; they are pretty enough, 
 but not worthy thy pen without considerable alter- 
 ations. I have lost every poetical idea I ever pos- 
 sessed ; they seem all to be buried in dung-heaps 
 and composts, barley-ricks and under-drains ; sub- 
 jects which demand my attention as much as tri- 
 angles and acute angles, and all possible angles 
 and squares and circles, do thine. I think I have 
 now convinced thee that I mean not to flatter ; it 
 is no part of friendship to do so, and, therefore, 
 I shall enclose my friend Towgood's letter to me 
 on th}^ poems, which will convey his sentiments 
 thereon. Take his advice ; consider, revise, and 
 amend them, again and again. Thou wilt find 
 thy account in it, and no disadvantage can arise 
 from delay. As their principal fault is too great 
 a degree of luxuriance, read them and correct 
 them when the imagination is least sportive, and 
 the powers of cool judgment are most strong. I 
 do not mean that thou shouldst adopt Horace's 
 rule literally, and keep them " nine years." That 
 would sound dreadfully in the ears of a poet, but 
 reduce it to months^ and I think thou wilt not re- 
 pent the delay. 
 
 I have at length got rid of my disorder, but am 
 still weak, and find writing or reading long toge- 
 ther very hurtful to me. I have been obliged to 
 stop twice in writing this letter. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Macau lay ! She is irrecoverably fallen.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 1^6 
 
 " Frailty, thy name is Woman ! '* Her passions, 
 even at 52, were too strong for her reason ; and 
 she has taken to bed a stout brawny Scotchman 
 of 21. For shame ! Her enemies' triumph is 
 now complete. Her friends can say nothing in 
 her favour. O, poor Catharine ! — never canst 
 thou emerge from the abyss into which thou art 
 fallen ! 
 
 Thy subscription to the Bath Society is now 
 due, and may be sent by the Oxford coachman to 
 me whenever it is convenient. 
 
 Your's, &c. E. Rack. 
 
 E. Rack, Esq, to R. P. Esq. 
 
 My dear Friend, Bath, July 6, 1779. 
 
 Our correspondence has, by some cause un- 
 known to me, been interrupted. 
 
 With respect to friendship, I know it's a plant 
 of celestial growth — " of tender violations apt to 
 die ;" but I can truly say I never professed it 
 v^'hen I did not feel it. I am, however, often so 
 disqualified to support that profession by a con- 
 stant interchange of letters, that a consciousness 
 of not being able to say any thing worth postage, 
 frequently keeps me longer in silence than I wish. 
 I am daily convinced that " Life's worn wheel 
 can turn up nothing new."' With respect to sen- 
 timents, they have been dissected, combined, and 
 diversified in an endless variety. Every flower in 
 fancy's gay field has been culled to decorate them ;
 
 124 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 and the most latent paths of nature and science 
 have been explored for materials to improve the 
 understanding and enliven the imagination. When 
 I read the many excellent productions of the 
 learned dead, or of the living authors, and com- 
 pare them with my best thoughts, I am struck 
 with humiliation at the evident disparity, and lay 
 down my pen with a well-grounded consciousness 
 of my own inferiority. 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, to a friend, in a country 
 village, secluded from books and rational con- 
 verse, I venture to cover a sheet with reflections 
 which the partiality of friendship may render 
 pleasing for an hour : but to thee, who reposest 
 on the bosom of science — to whom the choicest 
 treasures of wisdom and knowledge, ancient and 
 new, are ever open — what can I say that will 
 either improve or entertain ? My time and at- 
 tention are so devoted to the business of the So- 
 ciety, that I have little leisure for that calm re- 
 collection which is most favourable to sentiment 
 or poetry. The latter, indeed, I have entirely 
 declined, because I cannot be a good Poet, and I 
 am too proud to be a bad one ; and the paths of 
 mediocrity are already too much crowded. 
 
 With respect to the Temple of Friendship, it 
 has, from my numerous engagements, lain dormant 
 near twelve months ; but I hope in another month 
 to revise it. I am in some doubt whether it will 
 sell so as to clear expences, but intend to run the 
 risk as soon as I can get it ready for the press. 
 The distracted state of the nation is unfavourable
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 125 
 
 to every production of the press, that has not 
 either scandal or some peculiar excellence to re- 
 commend it. Men have little time for serious re- 
 flection, and mere sentimental writing will find 
 few purchasers. 
 
 The general gloom affects my spirits. I feel 
 for my country and for myself. I feel for my 
 friends also ; and if I do not write to them so fre- 
 quently, I love them as well as ever. Read Dr. 
 Johnson's " Lives of the Poets " — there is some- 
 thing new. The same may be said of the last 
 two hundred pages of the first volume of Robert- 
 son's " History of America ;" and of Gibbon's 
 " History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman 
 Empire." These are works of inestimable value, 
 and will live to the period of human existence. 
 
 My respects to Curtis when thou seest him. I 
 hope you both will ever bear in remembrance, 
 that learning is no otherwise valuable than as it 
 improves the understanding and mends the heart; 
 and that virtue is the most excellent and durable 
 of all attainable treasures. I am, most affection- 
 ately, thine, E. Rack. 
 
 The Rev. Charles Towgood to Mr. Rack. 
 
 My dear Friend, Wednesday Evening. 
 
 At length I have the satisfaction to send you 
 
 the packet of poetry with which you favoured me 
 
 so long ago. I wish I had not been prevented 
 
 from sending it sooner j but indisposition, busi-
 
 126 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ness, and idleness, have sadly interrupted my lite- 
 rary application. I think I have told you that I 
 seldom read poetry, and therefore your friend Mr. 
 Polwhele must excuse the cursory indigested re- 
 marks which I have written on a separate paper. 
 They are intended to call his attention to the 
 Poem, in some minute particulars ; and I flatter 
 myself that as they are well meant they will be 
 received with proper allowance. If they retard 
 the publication of the Poem, I think Mr. P. will 
 not, in the end, be displeased ; for I am of opi- 
 nion, that the longer he keeps it by him the more 
 beauties he will add to his composition. He does 
 well to cultivate his poetical talents, as they bid 
 fair to repay him amply for his pains ; but I will 
 take the liberty to observe, tliat if he keeps his 
 pieces by him till the ardour of invention is some- 
 what abated, he will do justice to himself, and 
 probably give more pleasure and satisfaction to 
 the publick. 
 
 I cannot enter so far into this subject as you 
 may expect me to do, after the quiet possession 
 of these papers for so many weeks ; and I hope 
 you will excuse my negligence in not returning 
 them sooner. 
 
 It will give me great pleasure to hear that your 
 health is firmly established ; and then, perhaps, you 
 will find yourself disposed to resume your pen for 
 the amusement and improvement of your fellow- 
 citizens. Yet I allow that you have some reason 
 for your remarks on the inefficacy of moral admo- 
 nition. A book was published some years ago on
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 127 
 
 the inefficacy of preaching — but pulpits are still 
 in fashion. Your aftectionate Friend, 
 
 Charles Towgood. 
 My compliments to Mr. Polwhele, and best 
 thanks for the favour of his Poems. 
 
 The Rev, C. Towgood, to R. P. Esq, 
 
 Dear Sir, Sherborne, Oct. 9, 1779. 
 
 I am afraid our common friend Mr. Rack, in 
 the partiality of his kind regard, has led you into 
 a very great mistake, by representing me as a per- 
 son capable of giving advice to a Poet of your 
 rising genius. He should have considered, that 
 my studies have long ceased to be poetical, and 
 that they were never regularly turned that way ; 
 for even amidst my juvenile amusements, the 
 Muse engaged but little of my attention. I will 
 not, however, take up your time with apologies 
 for my inability, but will rather proceed (agree- 
 ably to your request) to give you my unreserved 
 opinion of your Poem. 
 
 You are pleased to inform me, that it is your 
 first attempt in the satirical way ; as such, it un- 
 doubtedly has merit sufficient to encourage you 
 to persevere in this kind of writing ; but it seems 
 to me to be neither so well digested, nor so com- 
 plete a satire, as one might wish to see upon such 
 a subject. By its title we are led to hope for a 
 distinct view of the absurdities of the present mode 
 of academical education ; but this extensive field
 
 128 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 is only entered upon — not traversed. The follies 
 satirized are those of a buck and a pedant; and to 
 your animadversions on these two characters you 
 have added some cursory strictures on the relaxed 
 discipline of the University, and a few personal 
 touches. Now it occurs to me that there are 
 many absurdities in the general tenour of an aca- 
 demical education, and of academical manners, 
 upon which you might have enlarged with suc- 
 cess. Such, for instance, are the indiscriminate 
 lectures given in Colleges, where one might rea- 
 sonably expect to find students designed for dif- 
 ferent professions differently classed ; the super- 
 stitious abuse of public prayer, by such endless 
 and formal repetitions ; the learned trifling of 
 logicians ; the half-formed lessons of pretenders 
 to the mathematics * ; the miserable conversation 
 of coffee-houses, compared with the more liberal 
 use of those places of resort in London and polite 
 cities ; the awkward dangling of grave Fellows of 
 Colleges in the walks, &c. ; their dozings in the 
 common-room ; their longings after *' Heaven's 
 last best gifts, a living and a wife ;" their low 
 amoiu's, &c. &c. But your satirical reflections 
 should be occasionally contrasted with the just 
 commendation of the deserving. 
 
 Having thus taken the liberty to hint what 
 may be done, I shall now offer you my sentiments 
 on what you have performed. You very pru- 
 
 * Upon this topic of self-sufficient Lecturers, see some re- 
 marks in Dr. Browne's Estimate of the Manners and Principles 
 of the Times.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 129 
 
 dently determine to keep your own secret, as the 
 author of this poem ; for which reason I am in- 
 clined to think that the present exordium should 
 be omitted, and that the poem should begin with 
 the line, which may be read, 
 
 Since you, my friend, desire a knowledge — 
 Or, 
 
 Well — since my friend desires a knowledge — 
 
 And, indeed, exclusive of this particular reason, 
 I think the poem would best begin here. 
 
 In your description of the " Buck," I am doubt- 
 ful whether you do not make him too learned in 
 his exclamations, and consequently render your 
 character of him inconsistent. I have, likewise, 
 some doubts concerning the propriety of your di- 
 gressive address to '' Ticking." I think, too, that 
 your introducing the " Dun," will serve only to 
 recall to the minds of your academical readers 
 the inimitable description of that monster in the 
 " Splendid Shilling." What you say of the per- 
 jury of Fresh-men may, I think, be enlarged upon 
 with propriety; and the subject of subscription, 
 though it be a very delicate point, may, perhaps, 
 be treated more fully with success *. Your per- 
 sonal strictures -f- will, I apprehend, be more read 
 at Oxford than any other part of your poem ; but 
 before you give them the finishing touch, it may 
 
 * See the debates in Parliament, on Subscription at the Uni- 
 versities, in the year 1772, and the following year, 
 t They are all expunged. 
 
 K
 
 130 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 not be improper for you to run over the law of 
 libels — Incedis per ignes, S^c. I think your con- 
 clusion is very pertinent ; and, with a little cor- 
 rection, it may be made very beautiful. 
 
 Pensive " around the common room," 
 While Walton " snuffs his pipe's perfume," 
 
 See , whose inglorious name 
 
 Will never grace the rolls of Fame, 
 Strut dignified, without one sprig 
 Of bays to decorate his head *. 
 
 " Lo ! there (indignant Genius cries), 
 Lone ia that bower a Warton lies. 
 How oft, whilst Eve her landscapes drew, 
 He hail'd my steps to yonder yew. 
 For him I wove, in Fancy's loom, 
 A texture of perennial bloom. 
 For him, with joy, the assembled Nine 
 Their amplest wreath conspired to twine. 
 Yet what, alas ! but idle praise. 
 Rewards my sweetest minstrel's lays ? 
 Thus droop my sons, with scorn repaid, 
 Listless amidst the sombre shade. 
 
 " What tho' I raise the Muse's flame. 
 With ardent hopes of deathless fame ; 
 Yet cold Neglect's severe controul 
 
 Chills the warm current of the soul. 
 "And see the silver-slipper'd maid — 
 
 Her robes of glossy verdure fade ! 
 
 See, to yon urn in anguish prest — 
 
 To yon pale urn her heaving breast ! 
 
 " Still Nature's hand her streams around 
 
 Scatters with simple flowers the ground ; 
 
 But, mark'd by no poetic eye. 
 
 They sicken, and their colours die. 
 
 * Yet the candour of maturer years must acknowledge that he was a good 
 scholar and a good man, and every way better calculated for the government of a 
 college than T. Warton.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 131 
 
 Well may the slighted virgin glow 
 With many a sigh from bitter woe. 
 Alas ! she deems her ' Triumphs ' vain, 
 The' her loved poet framed the strain. 
 Haply e'en he may breathe, e'er long. 
 The spirit of despairing song ; 
 And own (reclined his throbbing head) 
 "■ The Tears of his ' justly shed." 
 
 This, Sir, is what I have to suggest, in regard 
 to the general strain of your epistle ; in which, 
 when you peruse it again, you will see reason for 
 much emendation with respect to the style. I 
 have thfs day returned it to Mr. Rack, accompa- 
 nied with some slight remarks, which you will 
 candidly accept, as they are well intended. The 
 judicious observations in your letter, respecting 
 the ardour of composition, and the first fondness 
 of an author, convince me that you are a poet 
 with whom one may safely use these friendly liber- 
 ties ; and perhaps you will even not accuse me of 
 pedantry, if I put you in remembrance of the 
 practice of an eminent writer in such cases : 
 " Usus Horatii consilio (says Quintilian) qui in 
 arte poetica suadet, ne prsecipitetur editio, nonum- 
 que prematur in annum ; dabam eis otium, ut re- 
 frigerato inventionis amore, diligentius repetitos 
 tanquam lector perpenderem." 
 
 I hope my detaining your poem so long will not 
 be attended with any great inconvenience to you ; 
 andj without any further apology for the freedom 
 of my remarks, I shall conclude with assuring you, 
 that I shall always esteem myself happy in an 
 opportunity of testifying my sincere respect for 
 
 K 2
 
 132 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 your character and abilities. I am, dear Sir, your 
 most obliged and obedient servant, 
 
 Charles Towgood. 
 
 E. Rack, Esq. to R. P. Esq. 
 
 Dear P. Bath, Nov. 21, 178 1. 
 
 ******** 
 
 In answer to thy former queries (which I beg 
 pardon for forgetting to answer before), Pratt is 
 the author of Sympathy ; it is a sweet poem. 
 He sent it to me before it was published, and 
 Mr. Graves had the finishing hand before it went 
 to press. Graves told me he corrected above 100 
 lines ; but this is entre nous. Ticket is the sup- 
 posed author of the Abbey of Kilkhamton * ; but 
 I know not certainly who wrote it. It contains 
 some wit and 7nuch ill-nature. Its day is over, 
 and it now " Sleeps with its Fathers.' ' How 
 short is the duration of human fame! how little 
 is it intrinsically worth ! how far beneath the 
 proper pursuit of an intellectual being, who 
 can extend his view beyond the limits of terres- 
 trial existence, and anticipate the honours of im- 
 mortality ! It is the highest wisdom to keep this 
 inestimable prize ever in prospect, and to seek it 
 with that conscious dignity which arises from the 
 knowledge of what we are, and what the Author 
 of our being intends we should be, when stript of 
 this " mortal vesture of decay," and joined with 
 kindred spirits in a more exalted sphere. 
 
 * It wiis written by Sir Herbert Croft, (N.)
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 133 
 
 Pratt is also the author of Emma Corbet — a few 
 lines, by way of eulogium, would be highly ac- 
 ceptable to him. He forms great expectations 
 from his new comedy, the Fair Circassian, which 
 is to make its entry on the stage next week. He 
 has a fine imagination, and no inconsiderable share 
 of genius ; but I wish he had better motives for 
 writing than profit and fame. 
 
 Bath is now exceedingly full of nobility and 
 gentry, and in the zenith of annual glory. Who- 
 ever would form an estimate of the pomp and 
 splendour of this world, may here see them con- 
 centrated in all their strength and weakness, their 
 plenitude and emptiness; while the mind, feeling 
 within itself a vacuity which all these things can- 
 not fill, will frequently ask " if this be real joy." 
 
 Among the bright galaxy of female beauties 
 which here 
 
 " Shine in the box and sparkle in the ring," 
 
 is a Miss Woodley * from Norfolk ; who, like the 
 new comet, draws all eyes and warms all hearts. 
 She is of the first order of fine forms, and shines 
 the brigchtest amono; a thousand constellations. In 
 her person every thing which constitutes beauty is 
 united ; in her manners ease, politeness, and ele- 
 gance, are distinguishably eminent. Her mind 
 seems enriched with every amiable excellence, 
 and properly refined to be the inhabitant of so 
 
 * This lady was afterwards married to Henry Bankes, Esq. 
 M.P. for Corfe Castle ; and died Nov. 2'2, 1S23.— 5ee Gent. Mag. 
 vol. XCIII. n. 0'4 1 .
 
 134i TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 beauteous a temple. She is not engaged — thou- 
 sands are dying at her feet — come, then, and se- 
 cure, if possible, this inestimable prize. Address 
 her in numbers, soft as the love-inspiring lute, and 
 tuneful as the music of the spheres. Her soul is 
 harmony, and she must be reached with what is 
 congenial to her finest feelings. She delights to 
 wander in the academic grove, to cull the flowers 
 of science, and to sip at the Castalian spring. 
 
 The Macaroni butterfly beaux that frisk and 
 buz around her can make no impression on her 
 heart. She is of a superior class in the intellec- 
 tual scale, and cannot but despise them. Come, 
 then, and enter the lists -, victory will secure an 
 invaluable prize, and even the want of success 
 will reflect honour on the adventurer. She is the 
 daughter of Governor Woodley, and will be a 
 handsome fortune. 
 
 " There is a tide in the affairs of men," &c. &c. 
 And who knows what a spirited manoeuvre in this 
 case might effect? I must now bid thee, affec- 
 tionately, adieu, E. Rack. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Dear P. Bath, March 17, 1782. 
 
 There is a particular friend of mine (Mr. Hen- 
 derson *, of Pembroke College) to w^hom I would 
 
 * See a memoir of Henderson by Dr. John Watkins, in his 
 " Peeper," pp. 219—316. 
 
 " That J. Henderson (says Dr. VV.) maintained the reality of a
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 135 
 
 refer thee. He is a prodigy of knowledge and 
 learning, and possesses every good and honourable 
 quality that can adorn or enrich the human mind. 
 But he is quite an original, and will pretend to be 
 very aukward and ignorant at first : however, his 
 friendship is worth purchasing at any price. As 
 an introduction, wait on him, and tell him I have, 
 with much impatience, expected the letter he 
 promised to send me when he left Bath, and that 
 his friend W. M. is also very anxious to hear from 
 him. 
 
 Of all men I have yet seen he is the first in 
 point of understanding; when thou art acquainted 
 with him thou wilt readily subscribe to this opinion. 
 I could, with great truth, tell thee what is still more 
 wonderful of him, but will not trust it to paper. 
 
 communication between the material and immaterial world, and 
 that, too, on the ground of his own experience, is well known 
 among his friends. I have often been amused in talking with 
 him on this subject." 
 
 Did a spirit ever " render itself visible or audible" to Hender- 
 son ? Dr. VV. does not assert this expressly ; but that such was 
 the case is a fair inference from the general narrative. 
 
 In his notions of physiognomy Henderson certainly anticipated 
 Lavater. This I can myself affirm, from conversations with 
 Henderson at Pembroke College. But of spiritual intelligencies 
 and revelations, I believe he dropped not a syllable among the 
 men of Pembroke ; fearful of exposing himself to scepticism, 
 incredulity, and ridicule. 
 
 Of Henderson's " cold bath," alluded to by Watkins, I was 
 once a witness. He stripped himself naked to the waist, and 
 washed himself thoroughly, and, with his shirt completely 
 drenched, went to bed. This was one of his strange habits, 
 among many others. For more of Henderson, see a paper on 
 Physiognomy, in tlie third volume of the Manchester Transac- 
 tions, and Agutter's Sermon.
 
 136 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Thou wilt find him out by degrees, for he has no 
 wish to be known as a man of learning and abili- 
 ties. He will often sit whole evenings in com- 
 pany and not say twenty words ; but when he 
 does open, all are astonished, and have cause 
 to be so. His mind is as pure as his knowledge 
 is extensive. He is a pattern of virtue in his 
 conduct*; and can, with his mind's eye, per- 
 vade both the natural and aerial worlds. This 
 will make thee smile, but it is true ; and I could 
 produce thee proofs of it that would astonish thee. 
 I am, with great esteem, thine, affectionately, 
 
 E. Rack. 
 
 C. T. to R. P. 
 My Dear Sir, March lo, 1782. 
 
 I was amused by your account of the ferment 
 which your Christ Church wits have occasioned 
 at Stratford-upon-Avon, among the gentle fair of 
 that celebrated place. I had read your lines in 
 the Birmingham papers, and I think some of the 
 poetry worthy of being transplanted to a more 
 genial spot. 
 
 " There mild Complacence holds her sober seat 3 
 There Gentleness and pleas'd attention meet. 
 There Prudence sits, and e'er decides aright ; 
 Reflecting on calm thought a steady light. 
 
 * In College, perhaps unjustly, we entertained a different 
 opinion of him.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 137 
 
 Now Wit its brilliance in a flash displays. 
 While Meekness softly tempers the quick blaze. 
 Now, sweetly changeful, in her eye appears 
 Pity ! the dewy lustre of thy tears." 
 
 Nor are the following lines inferior ; 
 
 " Wild is the dream that paints no real maid, 
 
 A fair Circassian and a citron shade. 
 
 For me, while Truth and Celia prompt the strain, 
 
 No fairy lay runs musically vain. 
 
 For me, how oft, my Celia, when we roved 
 
 'Midst the deep shades our early friendship loved ; 
 
 Or to the banks of Avon sloped our way. 
 
 Soothed by clear murmurs at the close of day j 
 
 For me, how oft her sprightly converse gave 
 
 Each silver hour to glide like Avon's wave.'' 
 
 For the rest, you will excuse me in saying that 
 the texture of the verse is too loose. But I will 
 not criticise such a jeu cf esprit — your party is 
 more laudably occupied than at the Tennis Court 
 or the billiard-table. 
 
 Your's, truly, C. T.
 
 138 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Section I. 
 Lamorraii—l7S% 1783. 
 
 *' In the year 1782 Mr. Polwhele entered into 
 holy orders, and served, for a short time, the cure 
 of Lamorran, near Truro*." 
 
 '* Confirmed'" by Bishop Keppel, I was " qr- 
 dained** by Bishop Ross. " You have a good 
 Curate/' said the Bishop to Mr. Bedford, the 
 Rector of Lamorran, at his visitation at Truro ; 
 and Mr. Whitaker (from the first to the last my 
 enthusiastic friend) would have repeated to Mr. 
 Bedford the words of our diocesan : but they had 
 not energy enough for Whitaker. " Did you hear 
 (cried the Rector of Ruan Langhorne) what his 
 Lordship said .'' you have a very excellent Curate." 
 
 The excursion on Sundays, from Truro to La- 
 morran, was delightful. Along the windings of 
 the river Fal, across the passage of Molpas, and 
 through the grounds of Tregothnan, where land 
 and water, hill and valley, woodland scenery and 
 
 * Public Characters, p. 266.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 139 
 
 pasturage, and corn, and hops, and meadows, met 
 the eye in rich variety, till we descended into 
 the silent recess ; where we perceived, contiguous 
 to the ruins of a once magnificent mansion-house, 
 the humble church of Lamorran, without a tower. 
 Detached, indeed, from the church, there was a 
 little bell-house, which rendered the scene still 
 more grotesque. It was a sweet sequestered 
 spot. My rustic congregation, from the few 
 farms and cottages in that little parish, were all 
 respectful and obliging. There was a simplicity 
 in their manners, there was a decency in their be- 
 haviour, not the feature of the present day. They 
 stood up, or knelt, or sat down, according to the 
 rubric. But they had neither bibles nor prayer- 
 books — for they could not read. Yet several of 
 the elderly people could repeat the prayers and 
 the psalms, more accurately than many who 
 " read, and write, and cypher too," repeat them, 
 at this moment. 
 
 Between the morning and evening services I 
 sometimes ate my solitary dinner at the parsonage; 
 or, winding through a romantic wood, reached, at 
 its extremity, a hospitable farm-house, where the 
 fresh boiled round of beef, with onions and sip- 
 pets, welcomed my arrival ; or, after the duties of 
 the day, partook of the more elegant entertain- 
 ment of his Lordship, at Tregothnan. They were 
 pleasant days ; but, 
 
 " Man never is, but always to be blest."
 
 140 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Section II. 
 
 Epistle to a College-friend*, 1783. 
 
 While yet 'tis mine to trace the feeling hour. 
 And win young Fancy from the Muses' bower, 
 Ere pressing cares, too numerous, intervene 
 To disenchant the bosom-soothing scene j 
 Come, ere your finer tints to memory fade — 5 
 
 Ye views — how soon to sink in sombre shade ! 
 O come, where never cares engender'd strife. 
 Ye transient visions of imtroubled life ! 
 There may 1 colour, where our College-day 
 Triumph'd in youthful spirits light and gay, 10 
 
 The generous mind expanding into joy. 
 While no mean passion mixt its base alloy; 
 Melt o'er our parting moments not in vain. 
 Fresh as I read my Greville's heart again ; 
 Rescue each sparkle of our wishing eyes, 15 
 
 And from severe oblivion steal our sighs ! 
 
 Far from our letter'd groves when fancy droops. 
 Or feebly pencils our aerial groupes ; 
 When dull realities, fast gathering round. 
 Scatter the forms that dance on fairy ground ; 20 
 
 Thy dear idea lightens up the whole, 
 And gilds with friendly rays my soften'd soul ! 
 
 'Tis then I see the sacred domes arise. 
 And Wolsey's tower-crown'd Gateway pierce the skies; 
 And pass the Gothic arch in eager haste, 25 
 
 And greet the bowers that nurs'd our kindred taste: 
 Fond to renew the philologic task, 
 Tho' wakeful study ten long hours may ask ; 
 But, still with all our former feelings, prone 
 To fly the circles of the problem-drone. 30 
 
 'Tis then I cry : how little dash'd with woe — 
 The days, when Euclid was our only foe ! 
 
 * To Greville, one of those Christ Church friends who (as I expected) have 
 " soothed my cares and heightened my enjoyments." Tliis Epistle is now printed 
 as it was originally written.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 141 
 
 T ho' doom'd to stretch attention on the rack 
 
 That twists the cranium of the plodding pack, 
 
 We found our mathematic toils repaid 35 
 
 By the sweet contrast of the classic shade ; 
 
 There met, with all the enthusiast's glowing rage. 
 
 The trophied chiefs of many a former age ; 
 
 Mus'd o'er the historic tales that simply tell 
 
 How Roman glory rose, how Athens fell j 40 
 
 And caught each accent of the critic's tongue 
 
 That gave new lustre to Maeonian song ! 
 
 Nor to vain ardours emulation stirr'd 
 
 Our souls : her voice with willing ears we heard ; 
 
 Whether the strife of declamation blew 45 
 
 The sparks of young Invention into view ; 
 
 Or (as the flame our weekly theses fann'd, 
 
 And diffidence held out the tremulous hand,) 
 
 Each offer'd to the censor sapient stuff. 
 
 Some into sermons spun, some brief enough — 50 
 
 Where the long hall, with hoary portraits hung, 
 
 Its iron-wreathed gate far open flung ; 
 
 Or, as Collections breath'd the pale affright 
 
 Thro' the still vigils of the studious night. 
 
 Each closing Term our kindred wishes crown'd, 55 
 
 And Bagot smil'd applause, nor Jackson frown'd ! 
 
 Yet Memory with a fonder glance pursues 
 Of vagrant Joy the many-colour'd views — 
 Congenial bliss that, bosom'd in the vale. 
 Drank the first fragrance of the summer-gale ; 6*0 
 
 The painter's taste, that saw mild Autumn print 
 Deep on the mazy grove her magic tint ; 
 And converse that, with Attic humour fraught. 
 Sported in all the free career of Thought. 
 
 How often have we scaled the breezy mound^ 65 
 
 And gaz'd upon the hamlet's distant bound ; 
 And, sauntering, criticised the pastoral notes 
 Of peasants whistling near their wattled cotes ; 
 O'erleap'd the stream, or trod the mossy plank 
 That trembled to the quaking willow-bank j 70
 
 I 
 
 142 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 And reach'd the forest skirts, that struck the sight 
 
 A mass of shadow and of yellow light — 
 
 That to pale crimson, as the sunbeams sunk, 
 
 Resign'd the brightness of the burnish'd trunk; 
 
 When the night- warbler's melancholy lay 75 
 
 Stealing in liquid stillness on the day 
 
 'Till each cool cloud had lost its lilac hue. 
 
 Our sympathies to every quaver drew ; 
 
 And the fair scene retiring, seem'd to faint 
 
 Into soft shade (what Melchier lov'd to paint), 80 
 
 'Till, curtain'd all, we heard, and hied us home. 
 
 The far-off echoes of the mighty Tom ! 
 
 How oft, as less excursive Fancy mov'd. 
 Not unimpeded by our gowns we rov'd — 
 (Our careless gowns that vaunted no degree) 85 
 
 And climb'd the hill, and clasp'd Joe Pullens tree; 
 Or winded thro' our own contiguous glade. 
 Or Merton, that arch'd high its bowery shade. 
 
 How oft, saluting the piazza'd dome. 
 We pierc'd, great Addison, thy holy gloom, 90 
 
 And own'd thee Cato's bard, that oak beneath * 
 Whose brazen plates, gigantic armour ! sheath 
 Its hollow trunk from ruin, to proclaim 
 How Maudlin-fellows prize a poet's fame — 
 Or hint, that ev'n to college wisdom clings 95 
 
 A secret craving for less shadowy things ! 
 
 Nor seldom, where the skiff light glancing flew 
 Or flash'd the colours of the gay canoe, 
 The Summer's swift-descending hour we gave 
 To social pastime on the classic wave j 100 
 
 The paddler's evolutions pleas'd to mark 
 From the broad benches of our safer bark, 
 Whether beneath the wide spread awning glow'd 
 Our circling glass, while trovvser'd rustics row'd ; 
 
 * The great Oak of Magdalen College fell from " his high estate " on the 
 29th of June 1789. For some account of this oak see Evelyn's ♦' Sylva," and 
 Plott's << Natural History of Oxfordshire."
 
 CORRESPONDENCE, 143 
 
 Or to hale exercise we strove to pour 105 
 
 The fluid silver from each feather'd oar ; 
 
 Or strait becalm'dj where low incumbent trees 
 
 Wav'd to the whisper of the shifting breeze. 
 
 Among the rustling sedge and lilies moist 
 
 Mourn'd our rude efforts that essay 'd to hoist 110 
 
 The slacken'd sails no more by zephyrs fiU'd, ] 
 
 And ran aground, in steerage all unskill'd. 
 
 Ah then, what pleasing murmurs swell'd the gales — 
 The village merriment that never fails ; 
 The skittler's noise beside the o'ershadow'd roof j 115 
 Fast o'er the level mead each prancing hoof; 
 The shouts of many an academic buck 
 O'er diving spaniels and the quaking duck ; 
 From fragrant haycocks, where with wooden fork 
 Each peasant plied, till eve, the frolic work ; 1^0 
 
 The laugh, loud echoed, of the sunburnt throng ; 
 And, still more sweet, the milkmaid's simple song. 
 
 Faint as the sounds at distance seem'd to die. 
 The smoke, that curl'd o'er Godstowe, caught our eye: 
 
 And the pale fane, with duskier ivy hung 125 
 
 Where hoary moss beneath its meshes clung ; 
 The monkish record on the rifted wall, 
 lU-rhym'd the buried beauty to recall ; 
 The labyrinth's secret maze, but dimly seen. 
 Where Rosamonda fled her tyrant Queen, 130 
 
 Our spirits wafted, in a wizai'd trance. 
 Far back into the days of old Romance ! 
 
 Oft too, when Winter bade his torrents rush 
 O'er the dank meads, and hide each scatter'd bush. 
 What time the tempest all the skies o'ercast, 135 
 
 We wander'd, buffeting the boisterous blast; 
 And from the height, whose summit overbrow'd 
 Fair Isis' towers, survey'd the heaving cloud j 
 Shrunk from the leafless tree's fantastic form. 
 Now bent to earth, now straining to the storm ; 140 
 
 And, as congenial terror touch'd our minds, 
 Beheld the brooding spirit of the winds
 
 144 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Sail downward to Ihe vale, and sudden throw 
 His bursting gloom on Isis' towers below. 
 
 Meanwhile, retreated from the pathless waste, 145 
 
 Our pensive steps the glimmering cloister pac'd. 
 Where to each moaning gale, each murmur deep, 
 Scar'd Fancy saw the beckoning spectre sweep ; 
 'Till, satiate, the Cathedral aisles around. 
 With every dreary sight and dismal sound, 150 
 
 We hail'd (no longer wrapt in wintry glooms) 
 The cheerful blaze illumining our rooms : 
 Where Mason's muse the charm'd attention took. 
 Or, unconfin'd, we rov'd from book to book ; 
 Or, as our desultory converse flow'd, 155 
 
 The differing spirit of opinion glow'd. 
 That haply started, in the warm dispute, 
 MoNBODDO sinking man into a brute. 
 
 'Twas thus, from all but surly censors free. 
 In serious musing or in social glee 160 
 
 We spent our eve; now reason'd and now rhym'd, 
 And sat, 'till chapel bells had duly chim'd. 
 
 Yet, tho' our suppers we postpon'd for prayers 
 As the late vespers clos'd our College cares. 
 Returning with an added friend in haste, 1(»5 
 
 We sliar'd, like Horace, a divine repast. 
 
 Not that luxurious appetite, uncheck'd, 
 Long'd for such cates as graduate mouths expect ; 
 Since, oft, at broken vespers, we deplor'd 
 Our cooling commons on the silent board, 170 
 
 And found, each heavenly aspiration o'er. 
 The cutlets, smoking once, that sniok'd no more ! 
 
 These were our sore vexations ! Yet unchill'd 
 Gay Fancy sparkled, as our glasses fiU'd. 
 Then the fair outline of our hopes we drew, 175 
 
 And fondly nurs'd them, as each figure grew ; 
 Sketch'd for our different friends the future plan. 
 And form'd our systems, as our wishes ran ; 
 Contented crown 'd a living with a wife, 
 JMor mark'd the varied ills that checquer life ; 180
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 145 
 
 View'd, halcyon-bright, domestic ease appear. 
 
 Nor saw pale Grief distain it with a tear ; 
 
 Bade the sweet pledges of Affection rise, 
 
 To melting blushes and entrancing eyes j 
 
 Pictur'd the bliss of Love's romantic morn, 185 
 
 And prest the rosy couch, without a thorn ! 
 
 But ah ! too soon the dear delusive dream 
 Fled, with the golden groves of Academe ! 
 Alas ! in scenes of vulgar life, I meet 
 Indifference ! thy cold damps, thy chilling sleet ; 190 
 
 While Envy's clouds diffuse their sullen gloom, 
 And blasts from Avarice nip young Fancy's bloom ! 
 
 Ah ! be it mine to fly the ignoble tribe, 
 Nor the dull maxims of the world imbibe j 
 To bid no generous sentiment expire, }9^* 
 
 And yet, tho' distant, breathe Affection's fire ! 
 And while, beneath this low sequester'd thatch, 
 I scorn the false opinions that attach 
 The rich, the great, to many a vain pursuit. 
 And mark of all their toils the bitter fruit ; 200 
 
 And hold the sweet compassion doubly dear 
 That drops o'er Woe the solitary tear ; 
 O may my Greville, since his spirits glide 
 With fervid impulse in a stronger tide. 
 The Christian patriot's pure ambition feel, 205 
 
 A bright example of unerring zeal ! 
 
 And, if kind Heaven in wisdom hath decreed 
 The radiance of a mitre for his meed. 
 Be his, amidst the venal and the proud. 
 The officious fawner and the unfeeling crowd, 210 
 
 Be his to value independence most. 
 And, not a spark of early virtue lost. 
 Muse o'er the mirror calm Reflexion rears. 
 And view it spotless thro' the lapse of years.
 
 14G 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Section I. 
 The Author's Residence at Kenton. 
 
 *' Mr. P. had not long served the Cure of La- 
 
 morran, before he married a Miss \V . With 
 
 her he removed to the Curacy of Kenton, near 
 Powderham Castle, the seat of Viscount Courte- 
 nay. Here he resided about ten years, and pro- 
 duced the greater part of his publications, both 
 in prose and verse *." 
 
 " Among his poems, * The English Orator' is 
 the principal in point of magnitude. Its rules 
 are, in general, judicious. But rules for eloquence 
 are read to better advantage in Quintilian, Fene- 
 lon, or Blair, than in a didactic poem. Yet there 
 are fine touches in this work ; and, as a whole, it 
 manifests a truly classical taste and elegant fancy. 
 The following is oneof its most pleasing passages: 
 
 In those avenues that erst 
 
 O'erarch'd a Bagot (proud to embower such worth. 
 Such virtues in their venerable shade), 
 There, musing oft on future scenes, he form'd 
 
 * Public Characters, &c. 1S03, p. 9.66.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 147 
 
 The prospect of ideal good to flow 
 From his impassion'd preaching. Nor unmark'd 
 His decent fane, nor unreview'd his charge j 
 That not at distance from his natal spot. 
 Beyond the woody Tamar, Fancy trac'd ! 
 And, as she spread the glowing tint, it seem'd 
 No fairy picture. For young Hope reliev'd. 
 With golden rays, each figure Fancy drew *." 
 
 *' The rank in which Mr. P. stands the most con- 
 spicuous is, undoubtedly, that of a poet; possessing 
 all that liveliness of imagination, fertility of inven- 
 tion, variety of literature, and command of language, 
 which are necessary to those who would cultivate 
 the Muses with success." And for translated works, 
 *' his Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus, are among 
 the best versions of the ancient poets. Here Mr. 
 P. has shewn poetical feeling and judgment, as 
 well as sound learning. His notes and illustra- 
 tions are appropriate, cimous, and entertaining f." 
 
 " The collection of ' Poems by Gentlemen of 
 Devon and Cornwall:}:,' was, we understand, edited 
 by our poet ; several of whose pieces enrich the 
 work." 
 
 " In divinity he has published two volumes of 
 discourses, and some single sermons; by which 
 he has proved that he is master of a clear, and 
 even of an elegant style. But his success, we 
 think, is most conspicuous, where the subject ad- 
 mits of pathos §." 
 
 " It was at Kenton, also, that he planned his 
 valuable ' History of Devonshire.' For such a 
 
 * Public Characters, pp. 27-2, 273. t Ibid. pp. 271, 272. 
 X Ibid. p. 273. § Ibid. p. 275. 
 
 1.2
 
 148 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 history, Chappie, a steward of Lord Courtenay, 
 had made collections, and Badcock had revised 
 them— but all to little purpose. Mr. P. conceiving 
 the idea of a similar plan, certainly possessed great 
 advantages. His vicinity to Powderham, to Mam- 
 head, and particularly to Haldon House, where 
 various books and MSS. necessary to the design 
 were treasured up, was a matter of no small con- 
 sequence. And the gentry of the county were 
 anxious to see due honour paid to their native 
 province." " His prospectus was evidently the 
 production of a man of genius, learning, and dis- 
 crimination. His talents as a writer, though not 
 as an antiquary, were already well known ; and 
 his printed queries were admirably calculated to 
 elicit complete and accurate information. His 
 list of subscribers soon filled ; and many noble- 
 men and gentlemen engaged to furnish plates, at 
 their own expence, for the illustration of the work." 
 " In the mean time the ' Historical Views of 
 Devon ' made their appearance." *' And in 1793 
 was published the second volume of the History, 
 handsomely printed, and adorned with some very 
 good plates." " This volume was merely the cho- 
 rographical part ; for the first volume was reserved, 
 with sufficient reason, the chronological detail of 
 events, and the biography of characters." Thus 
 far the proceeding adopted was approved ; but of 
 the execution of the work different opinions were 
 formed. That it displayed ingenuity, and a talent 
 for description, was generally admitted ; but some 
 supposed it was not sufficiently minute for the
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 149 
 
 magnitude of the volume." '* And, in his * His- 
 torical Views/ Mr. P. seemed wedded to a vision- 
 ary hypothesis — that Danmonium was originally 
 colonized from the East." " The notion was 
 worked up with that glow of colouring which a 
 poetical imagination can lay on, in such a manner 
 as to convince those of its truth, who are more 
 apt to pronounce according to their fancy than 
 their judgment." 
 
 " But, unfortunately, a circumstance of a do- 
 mestic nature, the death of his wife, impeded for 
 a while the progress of the Historian *." 
 
 Thus much, again, for the report of the com- 
 pilers -f" of the " Public Characters;" to which I 
 may be pardoned in subjoining som.e few remarks. 
 
 * Pp. 268, 269, 270. He retired into Cornwall, and then the 
 subscribers most unfeelingly withdrew themselves, to his great 
 pecuniary loss. And the consequence was, that he could not 
 afford to print more than an abridgement, a mere slight outline 
 of his history; the materials of which (particularly the biography) 
 had been collected and arranged with a labour to injure his health 
 and his spirits beyond recovery. 
 
 t For the report of monthly reviewers, and of contemporary 
 writers, see the following : 
 
 In 1785 " The Follies of Oxford " were published anony- 
 mously, " Of these satiiical sketches we cannot but observe, 
 that they are such as at least do credit to an undergraduate." 
 — Monthly Review for June 1785, p. 468. 
 
 In the same year Mr. P. published, also anonymously, " ^1n 
 Epistle from the Rev. M'illiam Mason, to the Right Hon. William 
 Pitt, petitioning for the vacant Laureateship." 
 
 " This fictitious Epistle is above mediocrity, both with regard 
 to wit and versification. The imaginary poet, after promising 
 his patron an eternity of fame, on condition of a compliance 
 with his request, concludes with the following lines:
 
 150 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Let me first observe, that visiting my little flock (or 
 rather family) at Lamorran, and amusing myself 
 
 Tell then thy Sovereign (should his will incline 
 
 To bid the Laureate's luxury be mine, 
 
 Assur'd, with Horace, that no bard should lack 
 
 The sweet enjoyment of a butt of sack). 
 
 Tell him. that if I soar not like a Pindar, 
 
 May lightning blast my pinions to a cinder ! 
 
 Tell him, that every blush of New-year's day, 
 
 Thy Muse shall more than Whitehead's worth display; 
 
 And, soaring far superior to the themes 
 
 Of war-worn armies, or a nation's dreams. 
 
 Triumph, as oft she pictures to his view. 
 
 That work to wonder at, imperial Kew ! 
 
 Tell him, her heart shall glory, thro' her lays. 
 
 Associate of his hunts, to trace the maze. 
 
 Tell him, in fine, his favours to repay. 
 
 Her zeal shall tear Macgregor's masque away > 
 
 And crush the monster who could dare asperse 
 
 Scenes, that shall flourish in my living verse. 
 
 While Genius hastes to hang with fadeless flowers 
 
 Thy throne, O Albion ! and thy laureate bowers." 
 
 English Review for August 1785. 
 
 " The English Orator." — " The author is evidently a man of 
 genius and observation. Of the episodes, better adapted for the 
 display of poetic talents than the subject itself, the story of Fos- 
 cari is truly affecting. The descriptive part is happily pourtrayed, 
 and the melancholy state of the exiled youth feelingly delineated." 
 " The story of Eugenio, who, reduced by his licentious com- 
 panions, quits the abstracted page of knowledge for the destruc- 
 tive pleasures that attend a life of dissipation, is admirably well 
 told. It is a copy from nature, elegantly drawn by the pencil of 
 truth. It is too long for a transcript; and, being uniformly good, 
 any detached part would convey but an imperfect idea of its 
 general merit." — Critical Review, vol. LXIV. p. 433. 
 
 " The sonnets and other small poems will afford the I'eader 
 pleasing proofs of Mr. P.'s poetical abilities." — Monthly Review 
 1791,75. 464.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 151 
 
 with my paternal acres, as fancy, taste, caprice, 
 suggested improvements or alterations, and join- 
 
 " The English Orator." — " We think the whole poem manly, 
 just, and discriminative in -its sentiments j lively, strong, and 
 brilliant in its images." " In many descriptive parts he is poeti- 
 cally great. The asbestos-robe of religion, particularly, is new 
 and striking." — See English Review, vol. XIX. p. 415 — 419. 
 
 " The English Orator." — " In his progress through this work, 
 the vigour and harmony of his muse have suffered no diminu- 
 tion." " The muse never appears in so dignified and captivating 
 a form, as when her fascinating powers are exerted in the cause 
 of truth." " His personification of Religion is beautiful." 
 " From these specimens, all who ' love the lyre ' will agree with 
 us in assigning to Mr. P. no mean rank among those bards, 
 whose productions have conferred honour on their country, and 
 benefited mankind." — Gent. Mug. for June 1789, pp. 534 — 536". 
 
 " As a beautiful didactic poem, we have already had the plea- 
 sure to recommend " The English Orator," and are glad to see 
 our opinion ratified by the best judges." — July 1791, p. 645. 
 
 In the same strain speak the critics of the New Annual Register 
 for 1787, see p. 2/5. 
 
 " The reader may peruse with advantage Polwhele's " English 
 Orator." — The Abbe Maury, " Principles of Eloquence," p. xi. 
 
 In Todd's " Deans of Canterbury," " The English Orator " 
 is quoted and spoken of with high approbation. vSee p. 247. 
 
 In a letter of Miss Seward to Mr. Urban, dated Sept. 15, 1789, 
 the author of " The English Orator " is classed by this lady with 
 Lord Lyttelton, Anstey, and Mickle. 
 
 In vindication of Mickle as a, poet, the ingenious editor of the 
 European Magazine observes: " The sentiments of those whose 
 taste cannot be disputed, may have more weight than even a 
 reference to Mickle's works. We, therefore, add, that Mr. Hay ley 
 says : ' The epic powers of Camoens have received their due 
 honour in our language, by the elegant and spirited translation 
 of Mr. Mickle.' And Mr. Polwhele: ' Read the Lusiad in 
 Mickle's translation, and the ^Eneid in its native strain, and, 
 unless classical prejudices interpose (Mr. P. might have added 
 other prejudices than classical), you will undoubtedly prefer
 
 152 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ing the Truthan hunt, though not foremost In the 
 field, and making occasional excursions into Rose- 
 
 Mickle; though it may appear strange, that the version of a 
 modern poem should outvie the original of the finest ancient 
 epic. Such an eclipse seems a phenomenon in literature. But, 
 perhaps, the Lusiad is become brilliant by transfusion '." — See 
 European Magazine for August 1791, p. 135. 
 
 The " Idyllia " of Theocritus, &c. — In praise of these trans- 
 lations the numerous registers, and reviews, and magazines of 
 the day, seem to have unanimously concurred. " Polwhele's 
 Theocritus, Bion, Moschus, and Tyrteeus, are recommended to 
 us by the general ease and harmony of the versification, the 
 fidelity and spirit with which some of the best pieces of his ori- 
 ginals are rendered, and the critical and learned observations 
 which occur in the notes." — New Annual Register, 1786, p. '275. 
 
 The Critical Review is particularly animated in its applauses. 
 See vol LXIII. pp. 355— 3G2. And the " Monthly" scruples 
 not to announce Mr. P.'s translations as far superior to any for- 
 mer versions."— See vol. LXXVIII. pp. 308—311. 
 
 " The difference (saith Badcock to Major Drewe) between the 
 old translators and the new is this : the former were mere versi- 
 fiers, the present is a poet." 
 
 It is only in answer to my calumniators that I repeat such 
 things. 
 
 The Idyllia of Theocritus have been incorporated with the 
 best translations of this country, in Sharpe's very elegant edition 
 of the Translated Poets. 
 
 " Poems, by Gentlemen of Devon and Cornwall." — " The 
 greater part of the lyric pieces by Mr. P. are replete with true 
 poetic fire, though not alv.'ays absolutely free from smoke. Wit- 
 ness, in the ' Ode after a Thunder-storm,' 
 
 ' The foliage lash'd the forest steep. 
 Then shrank into a gloom more deep.' 
 
 * The Coly,' * The Mona,' and ' The Poetic Mind,' demand our 
 warmest praise. Among the pastoi'al pieces, ' The Cottage Girl ' 
 is most deserving attention." — See Gent. Mag. for September 
 1792, p. 833.
 
 « 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 153 
 
 land, where all its Squires and Parsons were inva- 
 riably glad to receive me at their own houses, or 
 
 See, also, European Magazine for August and September 1792, 
 and Monthly, Critical, and English Reviews, and New Annual 
 Register, for the same year ; where the poems are criticised, and 
 praised in terms of high approbation. 
 
 " A Discourse, preached at Kenton Dec. 30, 1792, and pub- 
 lished at the joint request (and at the expence) of the parishes 
 of Kenton and Powderham." — " The writer of this sermon is 
 well known to fame ; his sermons and translations have already 
 passed the ordeal unhurt, approved, and honoured. It is written 
 in a style of spirited declamation ; and throughout has much of 
 the vigour of genius, with some of its inequalities." — British 
 Critic, vol. I. p. 109. 
 
 " This is a popular discourse, adapted to the times, in which 
 Mr. P. employs those talents for easy and elegant harangue with 
 which the public is already well acquainted, in contrasting the 
 present state of France with the happy condition of Britain. It 
 is a handsome offering from patriotism and loyalty, at a crisis in 
 which the author judged, that silence or reserve might seem to 
 argue disaffection. We sincerely wish that the offerer may not 
 go without his reward." — Monthly Review, vol. XII. p. IIS. 
 
 " Mr. P. with that elegance and animation with which his 
 sermons are commonly marked, represents the happy influence 
 of Christianity in diff'using a spirit of philanthropy unknown in 
 ancient times." " His eulogy on Howard is peculiarly animated." 
 " He predicts that the republic of France will vanish, and a 
 milder monarchy be estabhshed. It is bold to hazard any pre- 
 diction amidst a series of events entirely new." — Analytical Re- 
 view, vol. XV. p. 312. 
 
 That the author believes Whitaker to be the British Critic, he 
 is proud to own ; but of his Monthly and Analytical panegyrists 
 he knows nothing. With the Monthly and Analytical Reviews 
 he had never, at any time, the most distant connexion. 
 
 On the two volumes of sermons the critiques will be given in 
 a future chapter. 
 
 For a list of " The Living Poets," see Gentleman's Magazine
 
 151' TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 on the cheerful bowling-green of Gerrans ; and 
 sometimes taking a wider range, to see a school 
 or a college acquaintance ; — to acquiesce for a few 
 years of my youth, in such a distribution of my 
 time, might have been conceived no arduous task. 
 But I married, and was invited into Devonshire 
 by Archdeacon Sleech, whose daughter was my 
 wife's most intimate friend. From the Archdea- 
 conry at Exeter, after the interval of a month or 
 two, Miss Sleech conducted the young couple to 
 Kenton. Her kindness had introduced me to the 
 Curacy, and her father would probably have done 
 more. He died *, however, and the patron was 
 
 for July 179*2, p. 615, from which the Edinburgh Magazine pub- 
 lished an extract in August ITQ'Z, as follows : 
 
 " The Rev. R, Polwhele, of Kenton, near Exeter (of an ancient 
 Cornish family), is distinguished for his elegant fancy, his great 
 classical learning, and the variety of his acquirements. 
 
 " He has translated Theocritus; is author of the English 
 Orator ; has written Sonnets, which he published in 1785, under 
 the title of ' Pictures from Nature ;' and has produced a volume 
 of Sermons ; besides, probably, other things. 
 
 " He has now undertaken to write the History of the County 
 of Devon; and though, perhaps, his knowledge of that kind 
 might not be, when he engaged in it, very cojiious or minute, 
 yet that application of a mind so accomplished, to such subjects, 
 is the only thing that, in my opinion, can throw a grace upon 
 them. And there is no reason to doubt that, from his pervading 
 talents and indefatigable application, lie will do the undertaking 
 ample justice." — Seep. 152. 
 
 * He was a venerable Archdeacon ; but, at his visitations, we 
 used to be in pain for him whilst he read his Charges, from scraps 
 of paper, some of which had sHpped from their places. Educated 
 at Eton, he became a scholar of King's College, Cambridge, in 
 17 '29. He was collated to the Aichdoaconry of Cornwall on the
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 155 
 
 lost. At Kenton the country was beautiful, and 
 the society most agreeable. Of four families, 
 Andrew, Lee, Polwhele, and Swete, the initials 
 of the names suggested to me the " Alps ;" and 
 by that lofty appellation was our full-moon club 
 distinguished. The Downmans of Exeter were 
 afterwards of the party, though not admitted as 
 
 regular members. The D — • would have 
 
 dissolved the " Alps ;" its decomposing quality 
 would have operated more decidedly than the 
 vinegar of Hannibal *. 
 
 death of Charles AUanson, M. A. aboxit the year 1741 . In March 
 1746-7 he was elected Canon of Exeter 3 and in August 1*69 
 presented to the first Prebend of Gloucester, by his schoolfellow. 
 Lord Camden. A hospital sermon, which he preached in Exeter 
 Cathedral in August 1743, affords no adequate specimen of his 
 ability and taste. We have seen him delighted with the elegancies 
 of fine writei's — but his was not fine writing. He was a man 
 of feeling, and he suffered much in the deaths of several children ; 
 of whom the Rev. Charles Sleech (educated at Christ Church, 
 Oxford,) occasioned to him nuich distress, by phrenetic ramblings 
 in the pulf>it and out of the pulpit, till he died in December 1785, 
 The Archdeacon died in 1788. 
 
 * It was a favourite amusement of " The Alps " to give out 
 rhymes for sonnets or songs. Every member, after the rhymes 
 had been given out, was expected to write with all possible rapid- 
 ity. The following are specimens : 
 
 " While in sweet warbled notes the redbreasts sing 
 To Eve's pale shadow, and on solemn wing 
 The grey owl sails along ; the fading face 
 Of Nature wears a melancholy grace ! 
 But lo ! on yonder streamlet's duskier banks 
 The merry fairies rise in fiery ranks ! 
 And, glancing to the moon, their circlets link. 
 Then sudden, from the eye of Fancy, sink
 
 156 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 We, of Kenton, had also a sort of venison-club — 
 the venison from Powderham. 
 
 That " The Literary Society" of Exeter, how- 
 ever, was of a higher flavour, the names of Down- 
 man, Drewe, Hayter, Burrington, Kendal, Sheldon, 
 must instantly determine. 
 
 With the conversation, likewise, of the great 
 men around me, I was sometimes favoured. The 
 Earl of Lisburne was a man of exquisite taste. I 
 remember assisting him in taking books we had 
 referred to from their shelves ; which, indeed, his 
 palsied hand could not have grasped. At one 
 
 Into the gloomy dell. And now, cold fear 
 Sees the deep-labouring cloud its burden bear 
 Down chasmy crags, as from the moorland far 
 Vi^histles the gale ! When, quenching the soft star 
 Of Hesper, in slow rounds, fell wizzards turn. 
 And bid to mutter'd spells the drugs of Magic burn." 
 
 " While light-finger'd Peg, in the presence of Robin, 
 
 Runs through a broad hem with a bodkin, her bobbin. 
 
 The rustic, declaring his love in a sonnet. 
 
 Now sings of her eyebrows, and now of her bonnet ; 
 
 Till at length with his jingling the maiden, quite crazy. 
 
 She tells him ' her brain with his nonsense is hazy ;' 
 
 That ' she has no notion of sich sort of fun,' 
 
 Tho' the beams of her eyes he compares to the sun. 
 
 Still Robin, o'erpower'd by the blaze of her beauty. 
 
 Endeavours in vain to return to his duty. 
 
 Thus moths are allur'd by the light of a candle ! 
 
 No longer his tools the poor fellow can handle ; 
 
 But all he can do is, in praise of his Peg, 
 
 Like Horace's poet, to rhyme on one leg !" 
 
 One v\as D 's, the other P-
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 157 
 
 interview, I recollect, his Lordship quoted lines 
 from Catullus, which he had advised his brother, 
 the General, to inscribe on the front of the Mam- 
 head Cottage. With what enthusiasm did he re- 
 peat these pathetic verses ! This led to some 
 remarks on Cowley's epitaph on himself; and his 
 Lordship was pleased with my idea, that the *' ci- 
 nerem calenfem " seemed to clear up the obscurity 
 of Gray's : 
 
 " Even in our ashes live their wonted _^rcs." 
 
 Sir R. Palk was no scholar, but he was unajffect- 
 edly attached to literary characters. He, more 
 than once, was honoured (as he was pleased to say) 
 with *' The Alps '* at Haldon House. And a 
 curious circumstance, owing to our presence 
 there, though trivial in itself, should not be for- 
 gotten, as it is illustrative of the still reigning 
 superstitions even of Exeter and its neighbour- 
 hood. In any other light it would have been 
 dismissed with contempt. That Haldon was 
 haunted by infernal spirits, seems to have been 
 the belief of its vicinity. And the importation 
 of four parsons in Sir R. Palk's own carriage, 
 was a phenomenon not to be accounted for on 
 any other ground than their conjuring character, 
 and their instrumentality in clearing the house 
 from those infernal spirits. This, accordingly, 
 was the work assigned us. And one of the cham- 
 pions, after a long struggle, was successful in 
 sending a devil through the roof, and another in 
 locking up the archfiend himself in an iron chest.
 
 158 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 like the enchanted chest of Orismanes. Such 
 was the report of the neighbourhood ; and even 
 now it is firmly believed by many people at Exeter, 
 of no mean understanding. 
 
 But not the least pleasant to ray " Recollections" 
 are the kind attentions of Bishop Ross ; at whose 
 palace I never called without an invitation to din- 
 ner, with whom I enjoyed the intellectual feast 
 (more richly seasoned than at any other table, ex- 
 cept, perhaps, Dr. Bathurst's *), and to whom I 
 was indebted for the revisal in MS. and even the 
 publication, of my " English Orator ;" for my 
 name had been concealed till the Bishop an- 
 nounced it-j-. 
 
 Among the occasional visitors of Starcross, I 
 had opportunities of conversing with persons of 
 high excellence ; with Mr. Stone and his elegant 
 family. Dr. Andrew J, Vincent §, Drury, and 
 
 * Now Bishop of Norwich. 
 
 t For anecdotes of Bishop Ross see Histories of Cornwall and 
 Devon. 
 
 X For Dr. Andrew see my Cornwall Biography. He is there 
 noticed as possessmg all the simplicity of a child. For a sermon 
 of Dr. Andrew's my Kenton congregation thanked me, and for 
 his ju\enile epigrams I thanked the Doctor. There is one line 
 just occurs to me, decent in sense though not in sound ! At a 
 cottage he had partaken of a pudding and some small birds, and 
 he celebrated his Thestylis in a droll distich, of which the second 
 line was, 
 
 " Turdum et plstum fartum mi anus asse dedit." 
 
 § The master of Westminster-school was also kind enough to 
 give me a sermon. Both Doctors had commanding voices, and 
 both Doctors were school boys at Starcross — diilce est desipere in 
 loco.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 159 
 
 General Donkin : and I walked upon stilts as 
 the correspondent of Whitaker *. 
 
 In all these connexions I felt and confessed my 
 own inferiority. And now that they are broken 
 for ever, I feel (as a man of letters) deprived of a 
 prop that was necessary to support my feebleness. 
 
 The latest of my acquaintance, though not the 
 last in my esteem, was John Jones, Esq. who suc- 
 ceeded his uncle as solicitor at Exeter. My social 
 days with Jones were truly cretd notandi. He 
 was all candour, honour, and integrity. In the 
 antiquarian part of the *' History of Devon," the 
 assistance of Jones was most important. To that 
 
 In passing, however, from Starcross to Exmouth, in a little 
 sail-boat, with Dr. Vincent, I should have shuddered, had not 
 the Doctor's courage checked my fears, " Caesarem vehis ! " I 
 exclaimed. The Doctor laughed at my compliment, half uttered 
 in a panic ; but scarcely could his " Red Sea " have been more 
 boisterous. 
 
 * Whitaker was at this moment in Cornwall, fighting tythe- 
 battles with his parishioners. On his own ground at Ruan 
 Lanyhorne, he had (literally) laid low the sturdiest of his pa- 
 rishioners, with the Squire at the head of them ! And at a special 
 sessions at Truro he had incurred the indignation of the Bench 
 (who were on the point of committing him), by threatening, 
 with a clenched fist an insolent antagonist. Such was the sud- 
 denness of his anger, but it soon subsided. He had no deep 
 resentments ; " the sun went not down upon his wrath." His 
 enemy in distress he would have assisted " with all his soul, and 
 with all his strength." To Bishop Ross his parishioners com- 
 plained of his violence. The letter of complaint was produced 
 at a visitation, when the Bishop took occasion to compliment 
 him as a literary character, in the highest strain of panegyiic. 
 As to the merits of the contest, it hath since been abundantly 
 proved that Whitaker's tythe-demands were moderate.
 
 160 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 work I owe numerous inconveniences, discomforts, 
 and disquietudes ; but, whilst I associate Jones 
 with the spirit of investigation, I do not repine. 
 Yet, incited by that spirit, I burst a blood-vessel 
 in my stomach ; and, at Mamhead, where it' hap- 
 pened, the Lisburne family considered me as irre- 
 coverably gone. It was the assiduous care of Dr. 
 Downman * restored me to my health : but I did 
 not long enjoy it. My wife, also, was ill, and our 
 kind physician sent us to Dawlish. There I con- 
 ceived the idea of the " Local Attachment," and 
 wrote the poem (as it first appeared) within a week. 
 
 Not long after, in 1793, my w ife was taken from 
 me ; and, having seen her remains deposited at 
 Kenton (where two of my children had been in- 
 terred), I w^ent into Cornwall to my mother's house. 
 
 In the mean time (I would, in justice to my- 
 self, suggest to you, my children !) amidst all my 
 domestic cares or literary avocations, I was never 
 inattentive to my church duties. It is not from 
 the pulpit we can do most good. More is to be 
 effected, I will not say by " domiciliary visits," (it 
 is a hateful word) but by familiar conversation, if 
 sustained with dignity. The catechetical lecture 
 is often preferable to the sermon ; and the expla- 
 nation of the catechism, pro re natd, to the lecture. 
 i endeavoured, therefore, to bring a little audience 
 around me ; nor was I remiss in guarding them 
 against the schools of the Methodists. 
 
 It was bold to meddle with Methodism, but it 
 
 * Whom, on the bed of sickness, I thanked in a poetic epistle 
 praised by Hayley,
 
 BIOGfRAPHICAL NOTICES. l6l 
 
 was bolder still to attempt to reduce to order the 
 singing of the Kenton choir. Determined not to 
 admit of any psalmody but such as was set forth 
 by authority, I scrupled not to put a stop to their 
 irregularities j and they all seceded from the gal- 
 lery. 
 
 It was, however, but a temporary secession. Tn 
 the regulation of the vestries, and the adjustment 
 of the church pews, where the property was doubt- 
 ful, I spared no pains. But my great work (to 
 which I hardly expected a happy termination), I 
 mean the internal decoration, or rather neatifying 
 of the church, was at length accomplished by one 
 Churchwarden and myself, in spite of the opposi- 
 tion of vestry after vestry. After the expiration 
 of three years, when its compass-roof was com- 
 pleted, and other things " set in order,'* I was 
 gratified with the thanks of the parish, even of 
 those who had opposed the measure. 
 
 Before I bade adieu to Kenton, I had the plea- 
 sure of being thanked for my poHtical conduct, 
 by the united parishes of Kenton and Powderham ; 
 in which were resident a Viscount, four Justices, 
 and two dignitaries of the church. 
 
 Amidst the parochial associations of the day, 
 the Kenton and Powderham meeting is thus upon 
 record : 
 
 Kenton, Devon. 
 
 At a meeting of the principal inhabitants of the parishes of 
 Kenton and Powderham, held at the Dolphin, in the town of 
 Kenton, on Wednesday the 2d day of January 1793 (In conse- 
 quence of previous notice), 
 
 M
 
 lG2 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 The Rev. Richard Polwhele in the Chair, 
 
 Resolved unanimously, That, at the present alarming crisis, 
 when silence and reserve are not unjustly construed into disaf- 
 fection, it behoves even village communities that feel an interest 
 in the welfare of the State, to avow their allegiance to their 
 Sovereign, and their reverence for the Constitution. 
 
 That we, inhabitants of Kenton and Powderham, are, there- 
 fore, anxious to unite in expressing our loyalty to his Majesty, 
 King George the Third, and our attachment to the British sys- 
 tem of Government, by King, Lords, and Commons. 
 
 That, as attempts have been made by the circulation of trea- 
 sonable * writings, to raise a ferment among the different ranks 
 of society, we will endeavour to arrest in their progress such in- 
 flammatory works, to mark the first symptoms of disorder, and, 
 as far as our influence may extend, to restore tranquillity. 
 
 That, the authors or dispersers of such pamphlets as may tend 
 to counteract the effects of those pernicious publications, be 
 gratefully regarded as friends to their comitry. 
 
 That, we will lend the Magistrates every assistance in our 
 power, to enforce the laws relative to taverns or alehouses, which 
 are, in many instances, the nurseries of sedition. 
 
 * We recommend to attention the following opinions, from the Commentaries 
 of the late Justice Blackstone : 
 
 " If a party apprized of any Treason, does not, as soon as conveniently may 
 be, reveal it to some Judge of Assize, or Justice of the Peace, he is guilty of 
 Misprision of Treason, which is punished by the loss of the profits of lands during 
 life, forfeiture of goods, and imprisonment during life. But if there be any pro- 
 bable circumstances of assent, as if one goes to a treasonable meeting, knowing 
 beforehand that a conspiracy is intended against the King, or being in such com- 
 pany once by accident, and having heard such treasonable conspiracy, meets the 
 same company again, and hears more of it, but conceals it, this is an implied 
 assent in law, and makes the concealer guilty of actual High Treason. — Con- 
 tempts and Misprisions against the King's person and government may be, by 
 speaking or^vriting against them, cursing or wishing him ill, giving out scandalous 
 stories concerning them, or doing any thing that may tend to lessen him in the 
 esteem of his subjects, may weaken his government, or may raise jealousies be- 
 tween him and his people." — " It has been also held an offence of this species 
 to drink to the pious memory of a traitor, these being acts which imj)liedly en- 
 courage rebellion. For these species of contempts a man may not only be fined 
 and imprisoned, but suffer the pillory, and other infamous corporeal punish- 
 ment." — Book iv. Ch. 9.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. l63 
 
 That, though at present we observe, with heartfelt pleasure, 
 a general spirit of loyalty pervading the parishes of Kenton and 
 Powderham j yet, as these parishes contain more than 4000 in- 
 habitants, we cannot but see the expediency of a meeting or 
 association, the purpose of which is by vigilance to preclude 
 even a murmur of discontent. 
 
 That, duly awakened to the blessings of the present Govern- 
 ment, we will endeavour to manifest our sense of them, by con- 
 tent and cheerfulness in our several stations. 
 
 That, instead of indulging any chimerical ideas of a political 
 reform, we should rather look to the amendment of our moral 
 conduct — a species of reform which depends immediately upon 
 ourselves. And, since the happiness of the State must ultimately 
 rest on decorum and regularity of manners, that we will spare no 
 pains to evince the sincerity of our professions, by sobriety of 
 conduct both in public and private — by a becoming deference to 
 superior station, a due regard to the poorer classes, and a uni- 
 form attention to the morality of our respective families. 
 
 That, the thanks of this meeting be piesented to the Right 
 Honourable Viscount Courtenay, for his strenuous exertions in 
 disseminating the principles of loyalty, and particularly for his 
 republication (and distribution in this neighbourhood) of " A 
 plain and earnest Address to Britons, especially Farmers," &c. 
 
 That the thanks of this meeting be given to the Rev. Richard 
 Polwhele, for the excellent sermon he preached on the 30th of 
 December 1792, for the promotion of religion and loyalty, and 
 that he be requested to publish the saaie. 
 
 That the Chairman be appointed to correspond with any asso- 
 ciation, formed for the same purpose as the present, throughout 
 the Kingdom. 
 
 That these Resolutions be inserted once in the General Evening 
 Post, Sherborne Mercury, and each of the Exeter papers. 
 
 R. Polwhele, Chairman, 
 
 That the following gentlemen be empowered to act as a Com- 
 mittee, five of whom shall be competent to form resolutions 5 
 but that these resolutions, in order to be carried into effect, re- 
 ceive the sanction of a general meeting. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 
 
 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Rev. J. Swete, 
 Rev, J. Andrew, 
 Rev. R. Polwhele, 
 Rev. W. Bussell, 
 Rev. John Bussell, 
 Rev. W. F. Mackenzie, 
 Rob. L. Newcombe, Esq 
 W. Marler, Esq. 
 Mr. CoUyns, 
 
 Mr. Land, 
 Mr. Turner, 
 Mr. Woolcombe, 
 Mr. Diinsford, 
 Mr. Ayre, 
 Mr. Bulkeley, 
 Mr. Fryer, 
 Mr. Beard, 
 
 Mr. Oram, 
 Mr. Brutton, 
 Mr. Pooke, 
 Mr. Hemson, 
 Mr. Anning, 
 Mr. Bond, 
 Mr. Rabbage, 
 Mr. Tho. Pearce. 
 
 Mr. Teage. 
 Signed by Viscount Courtenay, 
 and all the respectable inhabitants. 
 That a subscription be opened for defraying the expences of 
 this meeting ; that Mr. CoUyns be appointed Treasurer, and Mr. 
 James Bond Secretary. 
 
 Section II. 
 
 Countess 
 
 Dowager 
 
 Edgecumbe — Seward 
 
 Letters from 1784 to 1793. 
 
 of Chatham — Loi'd Blount 
 Downman — Badcock— 
 Drewe — IVhitaker — Coivper — Hay ley — Dar- 
 win, and others. 
 
 Mr. Rack to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 I think thy Poem on Eloquence will establish 
 thy reputation as a poet. The lines on the late 
 Earl of Chatham, and our present young Cicero, 
 are so animated, that I wished to introduce them 
 to the Countess Dowager of Chatham. Accord- 
 ingly I presented her with a copy, as the produc- 
 
 I
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. l65 
 
 tion of a friend. I was certain it could not be 
 attended with any disadvantage. By her Lady- 
 ship's answer thou wilt see its effect. Whenever 
 thou comest into Somersetshire thou will meet a 
 polite reception at Burton-Pinsent *. 
 
 Yours, &c. E. R. 
 
 Lord Mount Edgecumbe to R. P. 
 
 Sir, Mount Edgecumbe, Aug. 20, 1785. 
 
 I am much obliged to you for the compliment 
 
 intended of dedicating your Theocritus to me ; I 
 
 believe the work is worthy of a better patron — I 
 
 am sure a more learned than myself. I must re- 
 
 * Lady Chatham to Mr. Rack. 
 
 Sir, Burton, March S, 1785. 
 
 I had the pleasure, a few days ago, of receiving your very 
 obhging letter, with the poem that accompanied it, for which I 
 have many thanks to return you. It has answered perfectly the 
 kind view you had in sending it to me. Though I cannot by any 
 means think myself a competent judge of such a subject, yet I 
 may allow myself to say, I was extremely pleased in reading it j 
 and that I think the animation with which it is written will en- 
 gage that attention to which I should believe it justly entitled. 
 The writer has undoubtedly interested me by the affecting lines 
 which relate to persons so near to me. The character which you 
 give of him, in addition to the rest, naturally leads me to wish 
 
 for an opportunity of being acquainted with him Since 
 
 your being at Burton, the house has received considerable im 
 provement, by the library being filled with books brought from 
 Hayes, and an addition of pictures in different rooms. 
 
 I am. Sir, your obliged humble servant, Hesteu Chatham.
 
 l66 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 peat how sensible I am of your civility, and what 
 little pretensions I have to such a work being in- 
 scribed to me. But I am glad of this opportunity 
 to shew my regard to the name of Polwhele. 
 Should you be inclined to come this way, I shall 
 be very happy to see you, and am your obedient 
 humble servant. Mount Edgecumbe. 
 
 Miss Seward to 
 
 Miss Seward's compliments to Mr. B. She 
 thanks him for introducing her to a poem of 
 much ingenuity. She had attentively re-perused 
 the first part, which they read together, and many 
 of those obscurities vanished, which, on a first 
 reading, rendered several passages unintelligible 
 to the whole trio. She would not attempt the 
 part which remained unperused that morning by 
 herself, as, really, the carelessness of a hand-writ- 
 ing to which she is unaccustomed, is perpetually 
 eluding her utmost endeavours to make out a 
 number of the words. But on receiving Mr. B.'s 
 message from H. White she instantly sat down to 
 finish the poem, and, with all the disadvantages of 
 frequent illegibility in particular words, the latter 
 part appears to her more clear in the arrangement 
 of its ideas than the first. 
 
 Miss S. could wish the author of a manuscript 
 so rich in poetic ideas, would sedulously remove 
 from them every mist of obscurity. Perspicuity, 
 so necessary to the perfection of most poetic com-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. l67 
 
 positions, is particularly required from the didactic 
 poet. 
 
 There is a kind of poetry in which a portion of 
 obscurity has a fine effect ; where an image acquires 
 added sublimity from being indistinctly painted ; 
 as in Milton's portrait of Death, in his Satanic 
 episode ; as in Mr. Gray's noble Prophetic Ode ; 
 as in the Spirit mentioned by Job, in the 13th, 
 14th, 15th, and l6th verses of the 4th chapter; as 
 in the description of Crugal's Ghost in Ossian. 
 It is, I think, the sublimest apparition in our whole 
 poetic stores ; and is of itself sufficient internal 
 evidence, that the Erse fragments are not the 
 creation of Macpherson's brain. 
 
 " Connal lay by the sound of the mountain stream, beneath 
 the a^ed tree. Shrill, through the heath of Lena, he heard the 
 voice of Night. At distance from the heroes he lay, for the son 
 of the sword feared no foe. He saw a dark-red stream of fire 
 descend from the hill. Crugal sat upon the beam — a chief that 
 lately fell by the hand of Swaran. His face is like the beam of 
 the setting moon ; his robes are of the clouds of the hill ; his 
 eyes are like two decaying flames, and dark is the wound on his 
 breast. Dim, and in tears, he stood, and stretched his pale hand 
 over the hero ! Vainly he raised his feeble voice, like the gale 
 of the reedy lake, ' My ghost, oh Connal ! is on my native hills, 
 but my corse is on the sands. Thou shalt never more talk 
 with Crugal, or find his lone steps on the heath. I am light 
 as the blast of Cromla, and I move like the shadow of mist. 
 Connal ! I see the cloud of death I it hovers over the plains of 
 Lena — the sons of green Erin shall fall ! ' Like the darkened 
 moon he retired, in the midst of the stormy blast." 
 
 As Miss S. had occasion to mention this passage, 
 she could not resist the temptation of quoting it, 
 as a fine specimen of poetry, w^hich bears, to its 
 advantage, some degree of indistinctness. Simi-
 
 168 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 lies are also not always the less beautiful from the 
 want of philosophic accuracy. But all which be- 
 longs to a didactic poem should be instantly ob- 
 vious to the understanding, at least amongst 
 readers who are used to poetry ; for there are 
 many people who either do not, or affect not to 
 understand the plainest observation, if it is made 
 to them in measure. To such the poet is not 
 accountable. 
 
 Miss Seward to R. P. 
 
 Sir, Lichfield, July 19, 1785. 
 
 I had more immediately expressed a sense of 
 the honour and pleasure I have received in your 
 acceptable present, had I been able to obtain a 
 direction to you. 
 
 Instruction and pleasure resulted from my pe- 
 rusal of the '^ Art of Eloquence ;" it is ingenious, 
 learned, and harmonious. I wish I could com- 
 pliment the times we live in so far as to depend 
 upon its becoming popular ; but I have my appre- 
 hensions that, like the noblest didactic poem the 
 world ever produced, Mr. Hayley's " Essay on 
 Epic Poetry," it may " prove caviare to the mul- 
 titude." That as yet Mr. Hayley's Essay should 
 be so little read, is a disgrace to our country. It 
 ought to be in the hands of every being who is 
 capable of receiving delight from the eldest and 
 loveliest of the Muses, since it contains so much 
 that is to the heart j amidst the treasures of in-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. l69 
 
 formation, the wise discriminations of unerring 
 judgment, the brilliant effusions of fancy, and the 
 beautiful harmony of numbers. 
 
 Never was there an age so rich in poetic genius 
 as the present. If it has not produced a Shakes- 
 pear or a Milton, we must impute the deficiency 
 to the fastidiousness of refinement, to the severity 
 of criticism, to their restraints of that wild, yet 
 noble daring, which, hazarding every thing, often 
 rises to the solar heights of sublimity, and often 
 becomes enveloped in the mists of exuberant ab- 
 surdity. 
 
 But amidst the poetic wealth of this era, how 
 utterly insensible of the value of these treasures 
 are the modern multitude ! " Let not, however, 
 the spirit of rising genius be depressed ; but rest 
 assured that, though its efforts may be temporarily 
 quenched by the torpor of the public, they cannot 
 be extinguished. Let the seventy years oblivion 
 from which the juvenile works of Milton emerged, 
 in the thirty-eighth year of the present century, 
 teach the poet not to rest his hopes of fame on 
 present popularity. 
 
 I am, Sir, your obliged humble servant, 
 
 Anna Seward. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Sir, Lichfield, Sept. IS, 1785. 
 
 A train of indispensable engagements has pre- 
 vented my acknowledging earlier the favour of
 
 170 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 your obliging letter, and of those beautiful verses 
 which flatter me so highly. 
 
 I have been obliged by a sight of the second 
 book of your present work, or rather a part of it ; 
 for the manuscript breaks ofF abruptly. There 
 can be no doubt of its being acceptable to the 
 public ; since 1 hear, with pleasure, that the first 
 book is nuich read and admired. I confess I had 
 suspected that your poem, ingenious as it is, would 
 have been too learned and abstruse to interest the 
 generality. For the credit of the age, as well as 
 for the author's sake, I am glad to find myself 
 mistaken ; but it is astonishing how few people I 
 meet with who have a taste for poetry of any kind. 
 That dislike and ignorance of all its essential graces, 
 which, a few years past, people were ashamed to 
 acknowledge, and even purchased poems to avoid 
 such imputation, seems now avowed, and even 
 gloried in. Stupidity and fastidiousness alike shel- 
 ter themselves beneath the Johnsonian strictures, 
 in despising and depreciating the most charming 
 of the arts. The unjust contempt which that 
 envious Colossus has expressed for many of its 
 greatest masters, seems replete with injury to its 
 present and future professors. 
 
 I had much rather read an original work of 
 yours than a translation. If a translation is not 
 close, the learned quarrel with it. If it is not 
 free, and liberal enough to preserve the spirit of 
 original composition, I fall asleep. Not having 
 ever been able to peruse a translation of Virgil 
 with delight, not even that of the immortal Dry- 
 den, I dread to see any person attempt this line in
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. I7I 
 
 composition, whose fame interests my wishes, and 
 whose works I desire to read. 
 
 You would probably say that I had little right 
 to talk in this style, if you knew that I have, in 
 the course of the past winter, amused myself with 
 endeavouring to make spirited and intelligible little 
 English poems of some of Horace's odes, which 
 are vapid and obscure in all the translations I have 
 seen ; but then I take only the general ideas, 
 scrupling not to add w^hatever appears to me eli- 
 gible to elucidate their sense, and strengthen 
 their imagery. Idioms, local customs, and allu- 
 sions to circumstances over which time draws a 
 veil, involve a faithful translation in the disadvan- 
 tages of hard and laborious language, and in all 
 the vapidness resulting from every species of fetter 
 upon the imagination and the style. If we eman- 
 cipate ourselves, and seize on the beauties of our 
 author, which remain unimpaired by the changes 
 of passing ages, and, without attempting to pre- 
 serve what they have rendered valueless, supply 
 the place of obsolete by intelligible allusion, then 
 it is that scholastic pride rings its grating changes 
 upon " modern tinsel " being substituted for the 
 '* pure gold of antiquity," &c. ; while the fidelity 
 it requires is incompatible with all my poetic en- 
 thusiasms ; and to read verse without feeling our 
 enthusiasm awakened, is like conversing with mere 
 good sort of people. 
 
 I am, Sir, with every wish for your happiness 
 and your fame, your obliged and very obedient 
 humble servant, Anna Seward.
 
 172 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Sir, Lichfield, Dec. 27, 17S5, 
 
 If I had not been very ill, and therefore obliged 
 to abstain from every species of writing not ab- 
 solutely indispensable, I had more immediately 
 answered your letter. 
 
 jf, ^ ^ J£, 4^ Jl, ^ 
 
 •TE* Iv" ■TV' *«* ■TV* TT '»• 
 
 You will scarcely, perhaps, believe, that until 
 Mr. Hayley's works came out in octavo, mine was 
 the only set in this town or neighbourhood. 
 
 A taste for shewy expense, upon very moderate 
 incomes, characterizes the inhabitants of Lichfield 
 and its environs. The best original poetry interests 
 them not. The generality of them even avow 
 their contempt for what they deem the useless 
 labour of the bards. I don't believe there are six 
 individuals, within ten miles of the spot on which 
 I now sit, who have read the " English Garden." 
 
 This is not the period in which literature is en- 
 couraged, any more than was that of which your 
 poet complains, in the specimen you sent me ; the 
 versification of it is musical, without the detest- 
 able cramped air, which makes me so sick of 
 translations ; but, for the reasons you have your- 
 self specified, it is impossible the work can interest 
 many — and there is yet another reason why it 
 cannot — all the striking thoughts and pleasing 
 images in the Greek and Roman writers, have 
 been given, over and over again, to the world, in 
 endless repetition, from the period of their exist- 
 ence to that of ours.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 173 
 
 The people to whom a translation of them can 
 be desirable, are only those who have avidity for 
 our science, without knowing the dead languages. 
 Consider how few the number of these, and that 
 those few are well aware that they have met with 
 every beauty of the celebrated ancients in the 
 compositions of their poetic descendants, either 
 translated, or interwoven into original composi- 
 tion, from the elegant and happy plagiarist Virgil, 
 to the elegiac, heroic, and lyric bards of our own 
 day. 
 
 My Horatian bagatelles are not a dozen in num- 
 ber, nor have I time to bestow upon an under- 
 taking so fruitless as their completion j 
 
 " For, as I'm a sinner, 
 I as soon should expect a roast phenix for dinner," 
 
 as that fifty people in this nation would willingly 
 purchase a new translation of writers so known as 
 either Horace or Theocritus, were it to cost them 
 only five shillings. 
 
 I am, Sir, your obliged servant, 
 
 Anna Seward. 
 
 R. P. to Dr. Downman. 
 
 Dear Sir, Kenton, 1785, 
 
 You owe the sonnets which accompany this to 
 an observation which, you know, we heard the 
 other day, respecting picturesque poetry. It was
 
 174 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 observed (you may recollect) that " genuine po- 
 etical painting consists in the exhibition of the 
 little particularities of an image ; and that it is 
 only in the power of appropriate and distinctive 
 colouring to bring it, as it were, immediately be- 
 fore our eyes." This remark, though it be not 
 applicable (at least the former part of it) to all 
 kinds of poetry, very evidently accords with the 
 true idea of the sonnet ; the intention of which is 
 surely to fix the mind to the contemplation of an 
 object presented in its most striking attitudes, and 
 marked by its more trivial, yet pleasing peculiari- 
 ties. Such a close and accurate inspection of 
 those parts of nature which deserve imitation, is 
 frequently as engaging to the poet, as microscopic 
 observation to the philosopher. Poetry on a larger 
 scale, where a variety of general images must be 
 introduced, and sometimes in rapid succession, 
 will not always display to advantage so particular 
 a delineation ; while the smaller pieces oi^ com- 
 position seem absolutely to require the minuter 
 touches of the pencil. And as the sonnet should 
 consist of one single image, illustrated by its more 
 pleasing appendages, it is here (and almost here 
 only) that an imitated object may be contemplated 
 at leisure, under all its little forms of beauty. 
 Hence, perhaps, some latent attribute may be 
 drawn forth, which may diffuse over it an air of 
 novelty. 
 
 In this light the sonnet seems peculiarly turned 
 to the beautiful ; and (in the province of the 
 beautiful) the more picturesque objects of still
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 175 
 
 life. But the sublime (though some writers in 
 this Hne have attempted it) is obviously incom- 
 patible with such miniature-painting. 
 
 With respect to the structure of this little com- 
 position, the Italian method, perhaps, needs not 
 in all cases be abandoned ; though (as some ju- 
 dicious critics have lately observed) it often gives 
 the sonnet an air of formality and constraint. 
 
 In the sonnets now offered to your perusal, every 
 leading image was derived from real incident, or 
 actual observation. Attached to rural scenery, I 
 have been disposed to devote my leisure hours 
 rather to the contemplation of Nature, than to 
 amusements of a less retired kind. The mind 
 that is at peace with itself is not in want of dissi- 
 pation. I am at least conscious of having been 
 innocently employed; and often^ amidst my po- 
 etical musings, have I been warmed insensibly 
 to pious fervours ! Often have I looked up with 
 gratitude to the Father of that Nature I was at- 
 tempting to depicture ; and often have I said in 
 my heart, that poesy, so unworthily depreciated 
 by the disingenuous and unfeeling, must be highly 
 favourable to religious meditation. 
 
 But a truce to preaching. Should you like the 
 little effusions here submitted to you, it is my in- 
 tention to print them. It is with trembling I 
 await your award. 
 
 Yours, &c. R. P.
 
 176 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Dr. DowNMAN to R. P. 
 My DEAR Sir, Exeter, 1785. 
 
 Seated as you are at Kenton *, with Powder- 
 ham t in full prospect, I wonder not at your poetic 
 raptures. You have likewise Haldon J, over 
 which your Pegasus may expatiate ; and Haldon 
 is too extensive and too various for a sonnet — it 
 merits an epic poem. 
 
 Of the sonnets that treat on trivial subjects, I 
 like your '* Woodcock''' best, and your ^^Part- 
 ridge " least. What you say of colours adapted 
 to the hare or the partridge may be true enough ; 
 but there seems something forced in the incident 
 which closes your sonnet. Apropos — will you 
 and Mrs. P. come in to-morrow, to partake both 
 of a hare and a partridge ? if, peradventure, your 
 bowels yearn not, and your commiseration spoil 
 not your appetite §. 
 
 Yours truly, H. D. 
 
 * See the annexed Engraving of Kenton Church, and Mr. P.'s 
 house. 
 
 * t See Engraving of Powderham, in the " History of Devon- 
 shire, vol. II." 
 
 % See Engraving of Haldon, in Hist, of Devonsh. vol. II. 
 
 § In consequence of the above, the following sonnet was sup- 
 pressed ; though the incident was unquestionably true. A similar 
 one happened, indeed, to a tenant of mine, who shewed me the 
 very spot where he had trodden on the poor bird, so that it be- 
 came an easy prey. 
 
 Sure Nature, with a fond parental care. 
 
 Soon as her skreen of foliage she withdrew. 
 O'er the dun scene her wintry mantle threw: 
 
 For was it not to veil the timid hare. 
 
 She
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 177 
 
 Mr. Whitaker to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, Kuan Lanyhorne, 1785. 
 
 I return you many thanks for your kind present 
 of the didactic poem and the sonnets. I did not 
 know before, that you was the author of either. 
 I knew not, indeed, that you w^as a poet ; and, on 
 the first intimation that you was, and had published 
 two such specimens of your poetical spirit, I was 
 as much surprised, I believe, as the first man was, 
 that discovered a flint to be a body of fire. I had 
 read the sonnet to your wife, and had been pleased 
 with it. I had read an extract from the " Art of 
 Eloquence," and had admired it. But I had not 
 the slightest idea that you was the author of either. 
 I find, since, that this was occasioned by my igno- 
 rance, as a foreigner, of your character at school, 
 &c. But I read over your poem and your sonnets 
 with additional eagerness, from my mistake. I 
 was much delighted with them both. There is a 
 striking originality in the imagery of the sonnets ; 
 but there is a nerve and an energy, a judiciousness 
 
 She bade his brown seat, stript by Winter bare, 
 
 Suit to his furry vest its friendher hue ? 
 And scatter'd his own colours thro' the lair 
 
 To hide the pillow'd Partridge from the view ? 
 Yet in the source of blessings oft we trace 
 
 The springs of ill : or else, poor Flutterer ! say. 
 Could I have crush'd thee, 'mid the bordering grass 
 
 The path-way waves ? Could else its tuftings grey. 
 Whose teints unheeded stole into the mass 
 Of thy own plumy sliade, my feet betiay? 
 N
 
 178 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 and justness, in the didactic poem, that particularly 
 struck me. 
 
 Your obedient servant, J. Whitaker*. 
 
 * It is melancholy to consider, that Whitaker was now entering 
 on the arena of a contest with his parishioners ; a contest which 
 was, doubtless, unavoidable, but which was pursued with intem- 
 perate warmtli. Strong in body, as well as mind, he knocked 
 down several of Captain Luke's men, I apprehend, or put them 
 to an ignominious flight ! Of all his prosecutions he was him- 
 self the conductor j his attorney was, in a manner, his clerk. 
 The following are selected from a bundle of sixty or seventy 
 letters, all written with breathless anxiety. They are addressed 
 to Mr. C. his attorney, of Truro, a gentleman of sense and honour, 
 and high classical attainments. Mr. C. would have gladly cor- 
 responded with his friend Whitaker on any other than profes- 
 sional subjects. 
 
 The Rev. J. Whitaker to Mr. C. 
 
 Ruan Lanyhorne, 
 a Quarter past three, Wednesday afternoon. 
 Dear Sir, Aug. 2, 1786. 
 
 I return you enclosed the list of the special jury. I have al- 
 ready struck out the names of twelve, and I send Roger over 
 with it immediately, that you may return it by this night's post. 
 That you should do this, seems of considerable importance to 
 me, because 1 would have you direct the trial for the road to be 
 entered directly. Mr. Luke is scheming to bring on his 
 action for the road and for the assault together, but this intention 
 will be defeated by bringing on our trial for the road first. And 
 I beg you will just write a line by this night's post, to direct our 
 trial to be entered instantly ; remaining, in great haste, dear Sir, 
 yours, J. Whitaker. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 Dear Sir, Wednesday afternoon. 
 
 I send you, as I promised, some more instructions for the As- 
 zes. I could have sent you all, as I have at last completed
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 179 
 
 them J but I have detained the two last sheets of instructions for 
 Mr. Luke's action of assault against me and Anne Peters. I 
 want to shew the questions intended to be asked to the witness 
 of whom they will be asked. By reading them over to him care- 
 fully, some notions may be revived in his memory, and he may 
 speak to some main points more decisively. The collateral cir- 
 cumstances often help out the main facts. 
 
 The instructions for Mr. Luke's action are very large. They 
 are made so, in a great measure, by the cross-examinations, and 
 by drawing into the questions so many particulars. But this 
 seems to me to be quite necessary. The counsel can have no 
 notion of the many little points that are requisite to be dwelt 
 upon in a cause like this, and that appear so to a man actually 
 engaged in the quarrel ; and it is better to overdo than underdo 
 in questions. 
 
 But, after all, I cannot think Mr. Luke is such an ideot as to 
 try either of these actions for assault. His conduct is so plainly 
 malicious and cowardly in both, that he must be an ideot indeed 
 to have a tithe of his conduct exposed. But what is the latest 
 day for giving notice of trial ? I thought the time was three 
 weeks before the Assizes ; your clerk thinks it is eight days j and 
 what is the real time ? 
 
 Mr. Luke, as far as I can hear, is making no preparation for 
 trial at all. He is examining no witnesses, and Mr. H. has 
 never been yet to view the road. 
 
 What have you done about the Non Pros. ? If Mr. Luke did 
 not file a declaration against Mrs. W. and' Mary Benny, before 
 the last day of last term, as I understood from you, you might 
 have a Non Pros, against him, and so make him pay a few shil- 
 lings to us. 
 
 I write by the bearer to Mr. Mitchell, and desire him to come 
 over hither on Friday or Monday, and plan the road with its ac- 
 companiments ; and on Thursday I mean to come over to Truro 
 myself, and bring the rest of the instructions for Mr. Luke's 
 action. I shall then send for a young fellow in Truro, who was 
 present at the second skirmish, and see whether his testimony 
 will be of any moment. And I beg to hear by the bearer, if you 
 do not think that the evidence for the road, as sent you last 
 week, very strong and powerful. 
 
 N a
 
 180 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 But I wish one argument and one address to be suggested in 
 the brief concerning it, IVIr. Luke's witnesses can be but nega- 
 tive; he therefore tights to great disadvantage. He can only 
 prove that persons have gone through and not been stopped ; 
 but fifty such witnesses cannot stand against one positive witness 
 of people asking leave, or of people being stopped. And this 
 may be strikingly exemplified by a fact. In towns it is not very 
 uncommon for ways through entries or coiuts to be open, and 
 for people to pass thi-ough them without asking leave, on eveiy 
 day in the year except one. Upon one day the passage is shut 
 up, in order to assert the private nature of it ; and this does 
 assert it. Here, therefore, is the testimony of 364 days super- 
 seded by the evidence of one ; because that is negative evidence, 
 and this is positive. 
 
 The address which I mentioned is to the jury, farmers, &c. 
 upon the loss that would ensue to them, in having their farm- 
 yards made into public roads, theirpoultry-courts to be run over 
 with carts and horses, their gates left open for strange pigs and 
 other animals to come and trespass upon them, and at last, per- 
 haps, their very right to straw their farm-yards contested and 
 denied. 
 
 Since I wrote the above, I find that Mr. Luke's hind, Francis 
 Dungay, has been saying on Sunday and Monday, in the neigh- 
 bourhood of St, Columb, that Mr. Luke has given up the action 
 for the assault, and that / have given up Mary Benny's. This 
 comes from such a man as must know his master's mind ; and it 
 comes to me by Mary Benny herself, who has been equally in the 
 neighbourhood of St, Columb, and is just returned. I have, 
 therefore, kept back all the instructions for the assaults, and I 
 hope to hear from you that this is true. If I do not 1 shall bring 
 them all with me on Thursday next. 
 
 I remain, dear Sir, your most obedient servant, 
 
 J, Whitaker, 
 
 The distance from home to Bodmin is about 17 miles to many, 
 and about 22 to some, or about 20 generally. The witnesses in 
 all the causes reached Bodmin about six on Monday evening. 
 The action for the road was heard by three on Tuesday afternoon, 
 and all the witnesses on that point might then have gone home.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 181 
 
 Some of Mr, Luke's, R. Stephens and C. Williams, and all of 
 Mr. Whitakei's actually did. 
 
 Mr. Luke's action for the assault was tried about nine on 
 Tuesday night *, 
 
 Mary Benny's action for the assault was tried about eleven on 
 Tuesday night. 
 
 I, John VVhitaker, Bachelor of Divinity, and Rector of Ruan 
 Lanyhorne, Cornwall, do depose, &c. that my maid-servant, 
 Mary Benny, having been ill used by John Luke, Esq. I did 
 furnish her with money and credit for bringing an action 
 against the said John Luke. That she having subpsenad myself, 
 Mrs. Jane Whitaker my wife, Anne Peters one of my maid-ser- 
 vants, and Richard Philips a carpenter employed by me, to appear 
 at Bodmin as her witnesses, I did hire a double horse for carrying 
 the said Richard Philips and Anne Peters to the said town of 
 Bodmin, at the rate of 2s. 6d. the first day, 2s. 6d. the last day, 
 and Is. the intermediate day or days, and did supply them with mo- 
 ney for their expences to and from and at Bodmin. That I myself 
 and Mrs. Jane Whitaker did also go to the said town of Bodmin, 
 attended (as usual) by one man-servant, upon my own horses. 
 That we all reached Bodmin on Monday evening, and the said 
 cause was not decided till about eleven o'clock on Tuesday night. 
 That I paid for the said double horse, being out three days, six 
 shillings. That the said Anne Peters and Richard Philips cost me 
 at least fifteen shillings each in these three days. That for my 
 own horse and Mrs. Whitaker's, 1 think I may justly charge 
 eight shillings, &c. &c. &c. 
 
 Major Dkewe to R. P. 
 
 Rev. SiRj E.xeter, 1785. 
 
 Mr. H. Drewe has just shewn me your letter to 
 
 * This action was tried by a special jury; but the judge declared in Court, 
 that Mr. Luke should pay for the jury, as he, the judge, would not certify it 
 was requisite.
 
 182 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 him of the 15th of October, which had been mis- 
 laid amongst a number of papers. 
 
 From the testimonies to your " Art of Elo- 
 quence/' I long to see our Sicilian rustic dressed 
 in his Sunday's coat, by a gentleman we may call 
 our own. 
 
 I have a quarrel with you, though to the best of 
 my belief I have never seen you but by character ; 
 and, since I have been robbed of my sword, will 
 fight it out in words. 
 
 You compliment me on my literary fame. I 
 assure you, Sir, that I possess no merit but what 
 arises from making use of advantages most gen- 
 tlemen claim, and of which many have reaped a 
 more ample harvest. What little I have gleaned 
 has been of some advantage to me, however; 
 amidst the tumults of war it has softened the 
 horrors of my situation, in the very few moments 
 I could snatch from employ. In peace it has 
 filled up a few hours of a very idle man, and of 
 course kept him from increasing dissipation. In 
 a more advanced period of life, books (such as I 
 can read), and the conversation of a few literary 
 men who will give me proper allowance, will, per- 
 haps, form my principal enjoyment. 
 
 I know not if I am writing to a man of !25 or 
 66, but I well know that I address myself to a 
 man of sense, and I wish (should we meet) to 
 undeceive him now, by assuring him that a soldier 
 who has wandered over half the globe^ with an 
 unsteady mind, fluttering betwixt ambition and 
 calamity, wishes much for the acquaintance of the
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 183 
 
 translator of Theocritus, but sincerely regrets that 
 he can never rival him on classical ground. 
 I am. Rev. Sir, your very obedient servant, 
 Edw^ard Drewe*, Jun. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Dear Sir, Exon, 1785. 
 
 I have just finished your " Theocritus." An 
 active youth spent in turmoil, and flir from books 
 and literary conversation, will enable me to judge 
 of it only as a very pleasing and elegant perform- 
 ance. But it may give you pleasure to learn, that 
 it has met with the approbation of one whose 
 judgment is held in high estimation, and whose 
 testimony to your praise will weigh much more 
 than mine can ever do -f-. 
 
 I shall be very happy to know personally the 
 gentleman who has so very flatteringly held me 
 forth to notice in his " Pictures from Nature." 
 
 * Whitaker and Drewe were contemporaries at Corpus Christi 
 College. They are here by accident brought into contact, and 
 their correspondence with Mr. P. commenced about the same 
 time. 
 
 t Badcocls. " I waited for you, the other day, till twelve j 
 and as the weather was bad despaired of you. Badcock has been 
 twice at my house } this day I saw him for the first time, he came 
 to speak with me viva voce. He expresses a high sense of you as 
 a scholar and a man of genius, and wishes you every possible 
 success, and bids me, with his best compliments, tell you so ; 
 but, alas ! he has declined the Monthly Review for seven months 
 past. Yours, E. D."
 
 184" TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 But as great characters (if you will think me such) 
 are best (to use an Iricism) seen at a distance, I 
 fear the only way left me to preserve youi' esteem 
 is by casting round me the veil of obscurity. 
 I am, dear Sir, yours, &c. E. Drewe, Jun. 
 P. S. The 27th Idyll is mentioned as a very 
 close translation, with all the rustic simplicity of 
 the original. 
 
 S. Badcock to Major Drewe. 
 
 17B5. 
 
 Mr. Badcock would be glad to have those 
 papers, with a few more, returned to him, that 
 he may peruse them at his leisure. What he hath 
 read he much admires ; but he had not time to 
 examine them critically, as he was preparing for a 
 jom-ney. 
 
 R. G. to R. P. 
 
 My dear Friend, Aug. 29, 1785, 
 
 'Tis a long, very long time, since I had the plea- 
 sure of writing to you ; but permit me to assure you 
 that, notwithstanding my dilatoriness and inatten- 
 tion, there is no person for whom I have a more 
 solid and sincere esteem than yourself. Mrs. P. 
 I trust, will accept of my very best acknow- 
 ledgments for the postscript she was so obliging to 
 add to your last favor. To have my cause supported 
 by a woman of her understanding and disposition.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 185 
 
 is an honour to which I have not the least shadow 
 of a claim, particularly when I consider the pal- 
 pable proofs I have given her how unworthy I 
 have been of her husband's (Husband ! how that 
 word mortifies me ! that you so soon have gotten 
 the start of me,) correspondence. If you have 
 any faith, however, in the promise of a young 
 volatile bachelor, one who flaunts away his time 
 amid giddy-pated girls, to the neglect of his talents 
 and occupation, I promise, in verho sacerdotis, to 
 be more regular for the future. 
 
 * .jf» JL. 4£, ^/f U^ ^t, 
 
 TV* TV" TV" TV •TV* TV* 
 
 I am told you are admitted into the corres- 
 pondence of the literati of Lichfield. The high- 
 sounding Seward, and the smooth-flowing Hayley, 
 are unanimous in admiring your poem upon Elo- 
 quence ; the judgment of the latter I conceive, 
 however, to be that of the sounder. The former, 
 in her mode of thinking and expression, seems to 
 me to be too much inflated. Her whole soul ap- 
 pears, in all her poems, to be actuated by that 
 wild species of enthusiasm, which has little of the 
 leaven of inspiration, and which gives one the idea 
 of froth rather than substance. The luxurious 
 and the dazzling are the medium through which 
 she evinces her conceptions, rather than the ele- 
 gant or the striking. Compress the substratum of 
 her productions, and divest them of their mere- 
 tricious imagery, and you will find how small the 
 claim she has to the sacred appellation of poet. 
 
 Surrounded with the noise of a dozen political 
 disputants, I must break off, by assuring you how 
 sincerely I am your friend, R. G.
 
 186 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 The same to the sa?ne. 
 
 My dear Friend, Nov. is, 1785. 
 
 I beg you will receive my best acknowledgments 
 for your sincere and affectionate letter. You have 
 some reason, I confess, to beware of relying im- 
 plicitly upon my promises, as far as they relate to 
 regularity in epistolary correspondence, and con- 
 sequently are justified in expressing your apprehen- 
 sions of your letter's sharing the same fate with 
 those that preceded it. You must permit me, 
 however, to do myself justice, in a point wherein 
 I think my character is at stake, and that is, that 
 though J do not pay that due attention to the 
 epistles of my friends which they indisputably 
 deserve, yet still there is no person (I can write it 
 firmly, without feeling myself checked by any 
 consciousness of assuming an assertion to which 
 I have no claim,) who more frequently calls up to 
 his imagination the many happy hours he has 
 shared in their society, or who more ardently 
 wishes for the same opportunities to return. The 
 reply to this already 1 anticipate. If a person, 
 you will say, has a real and unaffected esteem for 
 his correspondent, he will certainly write in every 
 instance. By no means. Indolence of disposi- 
 tion, the "penury of insular conversation," gaiety, 
 and dissipation, with many other concurrent cir- 
 cumstances, will interfere in his determinations to 
 write, though at the hazard and expence of his 
 friend's affection. Tomorrow is the answer that 
 every idle fellow gives to his own mind whenever
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 187 
 
 the propriety of writing occurs. But tomorrow 
 never comes. 
 
 With respect to the translation of Theocritus, 
 I am persuaded you will certainly succeed, and 
 establish your character upon a firm unshaken 
 basis. Be not too rapid, too easily satisfied, and 
 I am fully convinced your friends will do me the 
 justice to say, that 1 was not deceived in your 
 powders and abilities. The prime requisite in a 
 Translator (understanding the author is taken for 
 granted) is that of a good ear. That you have ; 
 and it was that rendered Pope so eminent, so 
 singularly successful in his version of the Iliad. 
 Dryden was unquestionably superior to him in 
 strength and brilliancy of imagination, could ex- 
 pand a fine thought with equal advantage, and 
 give a nervous sentiment the same dignity and 
 force ; and yet the effect of his Virgil is much 
 inferior to that of Pope's Homer. What is the 
 effect of the latter owing to ? To nothing but the 
 soft persuasibility of his versification ; that species 
 of syllabic music, which, like the harmony of co- 
 louring, gives diction its true proportion, so that 
 the sound of one syllable in a line shall not pre- 
 dominate over the sound of another. Attend 
 only therefore to that faculty which nature has in- 
 vested you with, and that, superadded to your 
 intellectual powers, will qualify you to excell in 
 the branch of literature to which you seem, on 
 your entrance on life, to have devoted yourself. 
 
 As for the success of the sale, that, to speak my 
 mind ingenuously, I have some doubts about. A
 
 188 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 quarto volume of 1/. 1*. is a formidable sum to 
 the general readers of Poetry. If you were to 
 publish it in the form of a large octavo, I am firmly 
 persuaded the sale would answer your most san- 
 guine expectations ; and your fame become more 
 extensive. Dont you recollect an observation of 
 old Fletcher the bookseller, when we were talking 
 with him concerning Gifford's intended quarto 
 publication of Juvenal? " Translation," said he, 
 " is at present a mere drug ; those who under- 
 stand the original are not solicitous to purchase 
 the translation, and those who do not, wish to pur- 
 chase it in its cheapest form. Mr. Gifford's per- 
 formance," he continued, " will not succeed unless 
 he reduces it to an octavo." Accordingly his 
 work has never yet made its appearance, though 
 the specimen you shewed me was an admirable 
 proof of his qualifications and abilities. Yours 
 most unaffectedly, R. G. 
 
 E, S. to R. P. 
 
 Dear PolwhELE, December 3, 1 785. 
 
 You oblige me much by giving me an oppor- 
 tunity of renewing that acquaintance, let me call 
 it friendship, which commenced between us at the 
 University ; and which I am convinced has re- 
 mained unshaken in our minds, however absence 
 and difference of connexions may have conspired 
 to weaken its force. It is a common observation, 
 and upon the whole a true one, that when a man
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 189 
 
 quits the society he had formed in college, and 
 enters into what the arrogance of the world has 
 denominated life, the first step he takes is, to 
 drive from his remembrance those very connex- 
 ions which in his probationary state seemed to 
 constitute his chief happiness. I am sure how- 
 ever, you will agree with me in thinking, that 
 where mutual respect is the basis of any friend- 
 ship, though it may suffer a thousand interrup- 
 tions, yet it can never be totally extinguished. 
 Such, I am persuaded, is that friendship which 
 subsisted for two years without any intermission 
 between you and me. And which nothing but 
 the distance betwixt T. and P. has prevented (on 
 my part at least) from flourishing with its original 
 vigour. 
 
 *^/, JA, 4^ ,AA, M^ J^ M^ ^£, 
 
 W 'TV* TV* tR~ TV" -Tr ^ TT 
 
 You certainly have undertaken a very arduous 
 task. The Pastorals of Theocritus, Bion, and 
 Moschus, unless the elegance of the translation 
 recommend them, will never take in an English 
 dress. Pastoral Poetry is quite out of fashion. 
 There is not a pert school-boy of fourteen that 
 has not been taught to run it down as unnatural, 
 and to laugh at the soft complainings of a Thyrsis, 
 a Corydon, or a Daphne. Prejudices in general 
 increase with years ; and what the school-boy im- 
 bibed from the lessons of his master, the man 
 cannot divest himself of. I myself, though I ad- 
 mire the excellence of the poetry, cannot but 
 think the sentiments are often trivial, and still 
 oftener bordering upon the burlesque ; and you
 
 190 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 perhaps will laugh at me when I assure you I 
 think the 15th Idyll, of Theocritus, Ei/Sot H^aJ- 
 ivoTj, &c. (as being the most natural), infinitely 
 the best of any I have read. There certainly are 
 many wonderfully fine passages dispersed up and 
 down through the works of Theocritus ; and I 
 think Moschus has one which is scarce equalled 
 by any Poet either antient or modern ; vid. E:riTa(p. 
 Bicovog, V. 104i to 110. The Ojt) ttso (pyXXtov yevsT] 
 &c. is nothing to it in my opinion. You (with- 
 out flattery I speak) are the only man I ever 
 met with at all equal to such an undertaking, 
 and I have not a doubt of your success, I mean 
 with regard to the intrinsic merit of the transla- 
 tion. Whether the world may not be blind to 
 that m,erit I cannot pretend to say. It is a very 
 difficult matter to combat prejudices successfully. 
 If you had offered to publish a burlesque upon 
 the Pastorals of Theocritus, &c. I sincerely believe 
 you would have had more admirers *. 
 
 Yours, &c. E. S. 
 
 R. G. to R. P. 
 
 My Dear Sir, April 23, 1787. 
 
 I should have apprised you before of the safe 
 arrival of your packet, had I not been absent from 
 my D friends. I have perused your work 
 
 * Yet (said Dr. Bathurst, the now venerable Bishop of Nor- 
 wich) " Theocritus has long wanted a poetical translator 3 and 
 such a one, I have no doubt, he will find in you." Dec. 10, 1785.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 191 
 
 with much attention, and am of opinion that it 
 will tend not only to establish your reputation as 
 a scholar as well as a poet, but turn out of no 
 small advantage to your future productions ; as it 
 has given you more copiousness of expression, 
 more smoothness of diction, and more grace and 
 volubility of versification. In this country I have 
 the satisfaction of informing you, it has met with 
 the most liberal reception ; and has placed your 
 name in a very conspicuous point of view. Every 
 one that has inspected it, has admitted it as pos- 
 sessed of a decisive superiority over Fawkes ; not 
 only with regard to fidelity of translation, but in 
 the more characteristic felicities of spirit and 
 animation. 
 
 The English Review for last month I met with 
 the other day, and was agreeably surprised on 
 meeting a criticism upon it at so early a period. 
 Considering that the Editors of that production 
 ( Justamond, Thompson, &c.) are a little fastidious, 
 1 think you ought to deem yourself as treated with 
 peculiar respect, in their acknowledging it to be 
 " a work of considerable merit, and the best trans- 
 lation extant." But the Monthlv Review is the 
 fiery ordeal, through which as you pass you must 
 expect to be singed a little. Young Burney (the 
 son of Dr. Burney) is the revievver of the Greek 
 productions, and consequently will have the charge 
 of examining " the translation of Theocritus." 
 You may form an idea of his ability, and critical 
 acumen, by turning to his criticisms on Glasse's 
 Caractacus. His decisions, however, will not shake
 
 192 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 the foundation of my present opinion. A Critic, 
 elated with the idea of dispensing his sentiments 
 to those around him, and shielded too from reta- 
 liation by the barrier of secrecy, is frequently 
 tempted to severity with the view of magnifying 
 his own sagacity, rather than that of giving a 
 faithful account to the publick. But the generality 
 are influenced by nobler motives ; they look at a 
 production as they do to the sun, with the view of 
 contemplating its beauty and tasting its effects. — 
 He (the Critic) to discover the spots, and to make 
 them the subject of his spleen and animadversion. 
 
 As you are now (to speak in the Oxford phrase) 
 in for it, and likely to support the cause of the 
 Muses, what say you to a subject, original and 
 susceptible of all the graces and embellishments 
 of poetry ? I have frequently thought of pro- 
 posing it to you, but have been retarded by the 
 variety of avocations with which I have of late 
 been so much engaged. What I mean is an essay 
 upon music. Mr. Hayley, you know, has written 
 one upon history, and another upon painting. 'Tis 
 only pursuing the same plan, and I am convinced 
 your genius and ability will enable you to execute 
 it with equal success. As I am master of the 
 subject, as far as regards the principles of musical 
 taste and the characters of the writers from Timo- 
 theus down to Haydn (the present musical lumi- 
 nary), I may be qualified to give you much assist- 
 ance. Take it into your contemplation, and in 
 your next let me know your sentiments upon it. 
 
 With regard to the diminution of my friendship
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 193 
 
 for you, that I can seriously assure you, is merely 
 ideal. An esteem founded, in the sunshine of 
 our days, and cemented by mutual pursuits and 
 similarity of thinking, is not likely to be subverted 
 so easily as you seem to apprehend. I may be 
 culpable in neglecting to answer your communi- 
 cations so regularly as they deserve, but I never 
 forget you. Divided as we are by a distance of 
 more than a hundred miles, there are a thousand 
 little occurrences which daily remind me of my 
 Cornish friend. No, I may be volatile, but never 
 fickle, never fluctuating in my attachment to him. 
 In respect to the increase of your family, I am sin- 
 cerely of opinion, that there is nothing that levels 
 the asperities of age, nothing that gilds the even- 
 ing of our days so effectually as a numerous off- 
 spring. I could wish, however, you could contrive 
 to add to your income by some method or other. 
 Mere publication seldom contributes much to a 
 mans pocket, though it gives liberally to his fame. 
 Excuse haste, ^nd believe me to be, 
 
 Yours, very affectionately, R. G. 
 
 R. G. to R. P. 
 
 My Dear P. Nov. 8, 1787. 
 
 Harrison, the celebrated singer, has spent some 
 weeks with us. 
 
 The character of Harrison, I have no doubt, you 
 are acquainted with. He is in fact the most affect- 
 ing singer I ever heard, and has the peculiar 
 
 o 
 
 •'
 
 194 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 felicity of making music as interesting as Mrs. 
 Siddons does tragedy. There is a scene in the Ora- 
 torio of Jephtha, in which Jephtha is represented 
 as debating with himself concerning the fulfilling 
 of his vow. He there reviews the amiable charac- 
 ter of his daughter, dwells upon her obedience 
 and filial affection, then adverts to the oath that 
 he made to Jehovah, and at the last is seised with 
 a species of madness. The effects he produced 
 when he performed this scene are almost incredi- 
 ble. All were in tears. Some whose feelings were 
 more susceptible than the rest, could not help 
 starting from their seats, when he came to that 
 part where he exclaims, 
 
 " 'Tis this that racks my brain. 
 
 And pours into my breast a thousand pangs 
 That lash me into madness," 
 
 Others again could not help audibly sobbing, 
 when they found him at last inflexibly determined, 
 *' on to-morrow's dawn," to sacrifice her to his vow. 
 Yet these effects are produced without gesture 
 or ostentation. The whole conduct of this scene 
 I look upon to be one of Handel's finest compo- 
 sitions. 'Tis simply nothing but a continued reci- 
 tative ; but as recitative is nearer the irregular 
 rythm of speech than air, there is greater proba- 
 bility of its making its way to the heart, and of its 
 accomplishing its end. 
 
 Have you thought any more of your Essay on 
 Music? I have been working for you, and have 
 made many extracts from Sir George Hawkins' 
 History of Music. The subject, however, I per-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 195 
 
 celve is attended with many difficulties. So far as 
 relates to the grammatical rules of joining sounds 
 together, much has been written ; but nothing 
 has hitherto been said to the purpose on the rheto- 
 rical part of it. This, therefore, is breaking up 
 new ground, and requires a discerning head to 
 extract a code of musical laws, for the purpose ot 
 establishing the didactic part. Rousseau, in his 
 Letter upon the French Music, may be made 
 much use of. We must be upon our guard, how- 
 ever, in adopting his sentiments, even upon a sub- 
 ject of entertainment. From Avison on Musical Ex- 
 pression we may glean likewise something to our 
 purpose ; but the chief materials must be drawn 
 from our own reflections. These (on my own part) 
 I continue to accumulate, and am in hopes of deli- 
 vering into your hands a prose essay, from which 
 you may derive much advantage. If Dr. Burney's 
 last volume of his Musical History should come out 
 soon, more advantage may be extracted from his 
 work than from all the works of his predecessors 
 put together. 
 
 How goes on your English Orator ? As you 
 mentioned in your last that it was nearly ready 
 for the press, I should suppose, before many days 
 elapse, that I shall have the pleasure of seeing it 
 announced in the public prints. 
 
 Have you seen the English Review for the last 
 month ? If you have not, procure it, and you will 
 have the satisfaction of reading the best delinea- 
 tion of Miss Seward's powers that has ever been 
 
 o2
 
 196 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 produced. I coincide most heartily in all the 
 author's observations, and agree with him that 
 she is only in possession of one part of the poet's 
 character, that of combining metaphors. As vanity 
 is peculiarly susceptible, and as pride is naturally 
 vindictive, I am in daily expectation of meeting a 
 flaming invective in some of the periodical pro- 
 ductions, against the illiberality of the Critic's 
 aspersions. When Pratt analyzed her Louisa, she 
 there betrayed her deficiency in the necessary re- 
 quisites of Authorship, by shewing to the world 
 how much her feelings were irritated by his obser- 
 vations. You may depend upon it, that in this 
 instance she will not shew herself superior. Her 
 Litchfield admirers are now, I am informed, ex- 
 citing her to arms ; and as she thinks them supe- 
 rior to the rest of the kingdom in critical skill, she 
 will not be able to resist the impetuosity of their 
 remonstrances. 
 
 Her best productions are her Translations of the 
 Odes of Horace. These, however, are not trans- 
 lated from the original. She understands not a 
 word of Latin. 
 
 Your verses to the memory of Rack, in the 
 Gentleman's Magazine, I have read, and much 
 admire. The three last stanzas breathe the plain- 
 tive elegance of Collins in the happiest manner 
 imaginable. There are parts too in the other 
 poem which I equally applaud for its descriptive 
 scenery. 
 
 Now I am conversing with you concerning 
 poetry, you will be pleased when I tell you that I
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 197 
 
 have received an invitation from Mr. Mason, the 
 author of Caractacus, to spend a few days with 
 him at Christmas. 
 
 He has sent word to me that he will shew me 
 the music which he has adapted himself to his 
 own chorusses. 
 
 Yours, affectionately, R. G. 
 
 In the Gentleman's Magazine appeared about 
 this time a Sonnet to the Translator of Theocritus. 
 
 " To thee, Polwhele I in friendship's grateful lays 
 A rustic Bard pours forth his artless praise ; 
 Pleas'd in thy gently flowing verse to trace 
 Doric simplicity and pastoral grace. 
 Roused by thy fame, his Muse shall soon aspire 
 To catch a spark of Hesiod's ancient fire ! 
 See the bright ploughshare in the furrow shine. 
 And gods adorn the long extended line ! 
 See Hercules his ponderous shield display. 
 And its own work assign'd to every day !" 
 
 B.C. 
 
 I suspect, but was never informed, that the au- 
 thor of the above was J. Basset Collins, who was 
 engaged some years in translating Hesiod. His 
 English was inferior to his Latin verse. 
 
 - T. Esq. to R. P. [respecting an episode in 
 
 the E. Orator.'] 
 Sir, Exeter, I787. 
 
 =^ * # 
 
 It would complete the severity of young Fos- 
 cari's fate, if, after being exiled by a decree, 
 hasty and unjust, from his native country, he was 
 by a decision more precipitate, and perhaps
 
 198 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 equally erroneous, to be banished from the pages 
 of your Poem, and after the sacrifice of his life 
 to one false proscription, to lose his immortality 
 by another *. 
 
 T. Pennant Esq. to R. P. 
 
 Sir, Downing, March 22, 1788. 
 
 I must without flattery pronounce your English 
 Orator one of the best Didactic poems I ever 
 read. There is a truth in the painting of the 
 
 characters I rarely meet with. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Let me request you will accept a likeness of 
 the Author, since I have been so unfortunate as 
 not to be personally known to you. I am, with 
 much regard, Sir, 
 
 Your obedient humble Servant, 
 
 Tho. Pennant. 
 
 H. D. ^0 Opie the Painter. 
 
 Sir, June 27, 1788. 
 
 I was lately struck by Mr. P — *s Maria There- 
 sa [see his "English Orator"], and as our most 
 eminent artists are now (after the example of the 
 Grecian Apelles copying Homer) engaged in 
 painting from the English Poets, I could not help 
 thinking that the Cornish Artist had here a fine 
 
 * Mr, T. had objected to the story of Foscari, as a digression 
 too slightly connected with the main subject ; and in conformity 
 with his judgment the author had expunged it from the Poem,
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 199 
 
 opportunity of paying his respects to the Cornish 
 Poet, by translating him into colours. 
 
 Your genius is principally turned to Historical 
 picture; and where can you find a nobler sub- 
 ject than Maria Theresa? 
 
 Yours, &c. H. D. 
 
 It was remarked, in a letter to the Editor of the 
 General Evening Post, Oct. 25, 1785, that Mr. 
 Sargent and Mr. Polwhell (as the name is there 
 spelt) have, without any communication with each 
 other, given a poetic portrait of Maria Theresa. 
 " The circumstances (says Literator) of their 
 having appeared at the same time, in the present 
 year, is worth observation. They are probably 
 ignorant at this moment of the curious coinci- 
 dence in question. Mr. Sargent's '' Mine" exhibits 
 Theresa, 
 
 When in Presburg's walls 
 
 She sought her brave Hungarians I — In her arms 
 The infant Prince she clasped, who to her neck 
 Clung, trembling at the dazzling files, and sound 
 Of martial minstrelsy ! — " Defend (she cried) 
 Your Queen with foes beset — her son protect. 
 And save the guardian of your laws and realm ! 
 What loyalty ! what ardent valour bearo'd 
 In every eye ! " 
 
 The parallel passage in the '* Art of Eloquence," 
 is as follows : 
 
 -Such the strings. 
 
 Where quick vibration ran through every note. 
 When erst, (her Kingdom tottering) when pursued 
 By hostile powers, the fair Theresa fled 
 Amidst the Hungarian council, and displayed 
 (With all the eloquence of youthful charms
 
 200 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Touch'd by distress) her Infant, of her griefs 
 
 Unconscious, yet more eloquent than all ! 
 
 'Twas then the affections, blending as they rose, 
 
 Rush'd foith ! Then Pity throbb'd in every breast. 
 
 And Love, dissolving at the sparkling glow 
 
 Of Beauty's tears, and reverence for the form 
 
 Of royalty — its hallow'd purple rent 
 
 Thus rudely — and fierce anger at her foes ; 
 
 While, drawn aloft to vengeance, in one blaze 
 
 The lightnings of their sabres fiash'd around ! 
 
 And " let us die" (unanimous they cried) 
 
 " Die for our King Theresa !" — Triumph opes 
 
 The sounding portals, as Persuasion's voice. 
 
 The hostile spirit rousing, bids it seize 
 
 The plumed casque, and blow the trump of war !" 
 
 Mr, Opie to R. P. * 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 I am return'd but a few days from Cornwall, or 
 I should not have delayed answering your favor 
 so long. I sent immediately to Cadell for the 
 books, and have receiv'd much pleasure from the 
 parts I have perused. I think the subject you 
 recommend is a fine one, and should have no 
 objection, provided it falls in with Mr. Macklin's 
 plan, to attempt it ; but before I speak decisively 
 on it, I should wish to see the historical account 
 of the event, as I should stand in need of more 
 minute information on many points than the poem 
 affords, or than it was necessary it should as a 
 poem. If you will be so good as to inform me 
 where this information is to be had, I will endea- 
 vour to procure it ; and if, after attentive consi- 
 
 * In consequence of the Letter signed H. D. I had written to 
 Opie, with a present of my Poem.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 201 
 
 deration, I find it equal to the expectations already 
 raised in me, I will speak to Mr. M. on the sub- 
 ject J but cannot after all promise to be successful, 
 as I am afraid he will object to having any subject 
 taken from a living poet ; — an objection which I 
 hope is far enough from being removed on your 
 part, and my Cornish oratory I doubt will not 
 be strong enough to remove it on his. The in- 
 stance you allude to in your letter I will explain 
 to you : Mr. M. was very desirous of having a 
 picture of Sir Joshua Reynolds's, and finding he 
 could not readily get him to paint one for him, at 
 least as soon as he could wish, he bought a picture 
 already finished by Sir Joshua, and got somebody 
 to make a poem to suit it, but his success in this 
 instance I fear will not tempt him to repeat it ; 
 however, on the condition already stated, my influ- 
 ence, whatever it be, shall be exerted to oblige 
 you to the utmost. Dear Sir, 
 
 I am your humble servant, J. Opie. 
 
 Please to direct to me in Great Queen Street, 
 Lincoln's-inn Fields, London. 
 
 Dr. DowNjviAN to R. P. 
 My Dear Friend, Exeter, 1788. 
 
 The third book of your English Orator is supe- 
 rior to the other two ; it is more correct. Perhaps 
 the subject admitted of more ease — more poetry. 
 You have certainly a difficult task to come. I
 
 202 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 am curious to know how you will be able to 
 manage the subject of Pulpit Eloquence. I 
 should think it a most intractable theme. 
 
 I had read the whole, and made some remarks 
 before I saw those of the Critical Reviewers. They 
 are right as to the general character, but in some 
 of the particular instances dull and illiberal. 
 
 There is some justice in their first remark as to 
 Jlippant and glides : but verbage is a good word, 
 and deserves to be naturalized ; nor could you 
 have well written it verbiage. They have printed 
 hollow in italicks ; why, I know not ; unless they 
 confound it with the literal sense ; whereas it 
 means deceitful, insincere. 
 
 Floats may be objected to with some shew of 
 propriety ; yet I do not think it so objectionable 
 but that it may very well remain. 
 
 **Beam in his looks enlightened," 
 A paltry ignorant criticism. 
 
 " Misdeem'd, " &c. Ditto. 
 
 Though Thule struck me on reading it, yet I took 
 no notice of it, as I imagined you meant Ire- 
 land ; which island was (or I am much deceived) 
 by some supposed to be the most antient Thule 
 of the Phcenicians. 
 
 How could the writer be such a fool as not to 
 know that Lethe was a river of Crete, as well as 
 Afric ! 
 
 These remarks seem to be made on the princi- 
 ple that a critic must find some fault to shew his
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 203 
 
 acumen ; but the manner in which it is done is 
 mean and dirty. 
 
 Yours, truly, H. D. * 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 My Dear Friend, Exeter, 1778. 
 
 Read the enclosed sonnets. I have copied one 
 from the Gentleman's Magazine ; the other, you 
 will perceive, is to your wife. 
 
 In haste, yours, &c. H. D. 
 
 Sonnet, to Mk. Polwhele. March, 1778. 
 
 " Polwhele ! with whose sweet lay I many an hour. 
 
 Ah ! many a dreary hour have oft beguil'd. 
 
 Sure fancy mark'd thee for her darling child. 
 And twin'd a wreath of ev'ry lovely flower 
 To crown thy infant brow ! Else whence that power 
 
 Of magic that attunes thy woodnotes wild ? 
 
 For, whether thou dost breathe some sweet strain mild. 
 My sense is wrapp'd in soft Elysian bower : 
 
 Or if the lyre with rapid hand divine 
 Thou sweep'st, I'm huriied with thy lofty muse 
 
 To realms empyreal ! To this lay of mine 
 Would but thy song some happy fire infuse ! 
 
 Then might I at thy flower-inwoven shrine 
 Offer a garland of no sordid hues." 
 
 To Mrs, Polwhele. 
 
 The charms of Laura in immortal verse 
 
 More than one bard hath sung. Thy fabled name 
 
 * We had here, for the first time, to lament "judicium 
 PARidis." This was treacherous j so thought Dr. Downman.
 
 204< TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 My homelier strains, Polwhele ! shall not rehearse. 
 
 To truth and friendship sacred, not to fame. 
 Sacred to those mild attributes of soul 
 
 Which from the public haunts of life recede, 
 To virtue, to unbiast judgment dear j 
 
 For which not even he can form a meed 
 Of due desert, whose heart possessing whole 
 All other mortal goods but dross appear. 
 
 Oh ! may the Muses guard their favourite son ! 
 And bless with health, with love, those mindis I prize 
 
 Above all riches by the vicious won. 
 Above all titled honour's rain-bow dies ! 
 
 H. D. 
 
 J. T. to R. P. 
 
 My Dear Sir, Nov, 5, 1788. 
 
 It is with much pleasure I sit down to fulfil a 
 promise I have some time made to myself, of ex- 
 pressing my acknowledgments to you for tlie satis- 
 faction I have felt in reading your late several 
 productions, more especially your elegant version 
 of Theocritus, &c. which I read with singular 
 pleasure, feeling myself much interested in your 
 increasing reputation. The attempt was bold, the 
 task arduous, but your merit rose in proportion to 
 the difficulties you had to contend with. But what 
 makes me nib my pen just at this moment is, the 
 perusal of your excellent Anniversary Sermon, 
 which breathes the sentiments of a pious, friendly, 
 and ingenuous heart ; and its simplicity of dress 
 comes with peculiar acceptance from one whose 
 literary character was so highly established, as to
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 205 
 
 warrant an expectation of a more elaborate (though 
 not on that account rriore pleasing) composition. 
 I was happy to see at the back of the Sermon a 
 new edition of Theocritus announced, and in a 
 different form ; I much approve of the 8vo plan. 
 The beautiful Pastorals of your favourite Poet 
 have been long withheld from many readers of re- 
 fined taste, who are unacquainted with the original 
 language ; but the translation you have given the 
 world, and the plan you are about to adopt, will 
 introduce your original to more extensive acquaint- 
 ance, will diffuse your own reputation, and be 
 truly accommodating to a variety of readers, who 
 wanted only such an edition to render your version 
 the companionable 8vo of the drawing room, as 
 well as the authentic quarto of the library. 
 
 In your 4to edition of Theocritus you acknow- 
 ledge the correspondence of some of your friends. 
 I marked the ingenuous passage at the time, and 
 in the perusal of your book I noted some things 
 that struck me, intending, when I saw you, which 
 I then expected to fall out long before this time, 
 to communicate my remarks ; but not having 
 been so fortunate as to meet you, and seeing the 
 second edition about to come from the press, I 
 am induced to write to you, concluding that should 
 any of my remarks appear just, you would not be 
 displeased with an old and sincere friend for the 
 communication ; and if not of any importance 
 they will however serve to convince you that 
 neither you nor your publications are unnoticed 
 by me.
 
 206 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 I will premise that I have seen no other edition 
 of Theocritus than an old 8vo, published at Cam- 
 bridge in 1677) by Winterton; and, as he professes, 
 after H. Stephens's edition of 1566, which he says 
 ^^ quantum licuit secutus sum ,-'* confessing that he 
 has in some matters ventured to differ from him. 
 I have long wished to see Mr. Warton's edition, 
 which I think you chiefly confide in. Now I have 
 been much puzzled by your version of the 23rd 
 Idyl, where you have characterized the object of 
 love as a female, 
 
 " An amorous shepherd lov'd a cruel maid." 
 
 Whereas the edition I speak of reads, 
 
 Avqp Tis TToXvfiXTpos airijve os TjpaT e<papu>. 
 
 But to give you my remarks as they occurred, I 
 will take them in the order I find them. In the 
 second line of the first Idyl I fancied " tuneful 
 whisper" a more literal translation of A5>] to 
 
 Page 42 of your edition I read, 
 
 " O were a little Bee's my happier lot !'* 
 I seem to miss the favourite epithet of Theocritus, 
 
 Ai0e yevoifiav 
 A (iofifievfra fieXuraa, — 
 
 a reading that you have preserved in your trans- 
 lation of the 107th line of the first Idyl : 
 
 Qibe. KaXoy ftofijievi'Ti ttotl (Tfxareacri fieXiaaai. 
 There bees in busy swarms hum round their hives.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 207 
 
 I am unwilling to lose an epithet that Dryden 
 has classicized, 
 
 '* About the boughs an airy nation flew 
 
 Of humming bees, that haunt the golden dew." 
 
 Page 96, line 57 — " For thee ten does." Virgil. 
 My edition reads 
 
 Tpe(j)U) be TOi evSeica vejSpws. 
 
 Page 143, line 10 : 
 
 *'And glanced their many-twinkling feet around." 
 
 I remember a couple of lines in the poem on 
 dancing (Dodsley's Coll.) that seem to me to ex- 
 press the poet's meaning of Tocro-i TrspnrT^sxrois more 
 clearly. 
 
 " And see the sprightly dance is now begun ! 
 In steps confused the giddy maze they run." 
 
 This may be a little hypercritical ; for your version 
 is certainly more poetical, and agreeable to Mr. 
 Gray's fancy, 
 
 " To brisk notes in cadence meeting 
 Glance their many twinkling feet," 
 
 though not positively literal. 
 
 Page 201 — " The bright Agave with her cheeks of snow" 
 
 does not give me the idea that Theocritus in- 
 tended to convey by his /xaXoTrapTjop Ayauuy which 
 comes up nearer to our vulgar phrase " cherry 
 cheek'd." 
 
 Page 221 — " For heaps of native earth a foreign tomb !" 
 
 I have here wished again and again for Mr. 
 Warton's edition, or for some of the Scholia of 
 Toup and others ; for I cannot persuade myself
 
 208 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 that the poet sung avn S? TroXXa^, &c. ; it conveys 
 no meaning ; and in so short an affair as an epitaph 
 or an epigram every word should have its sense. I 
 have little doubt but the original reading was 
 
 AvTL Se TTvpai 
 Trarpibos oQveir]v Keipai €(()e(r(Tafieyo$. 
 Pro pyr^ 
 Patern^ perigiinS. jaceo coopertus. 
 
 This reading seems to restore both the sense 
 and truth of the epitaph. 
 
 Your notes display much learning and good 
 observation, illustrating the very many dark pas- 
 sages of your author ; and indeed Theocritus and 
 the minor poets stand in need of able commen- 
 tators, inasmuch as they are very obscure, and 
 have not had their share of notice hitherto. 
 Here I could not but observe that you ascribe 
 to many of the Greek and Roman poets an ac- 
 quaintance with the sacred writings ; and to The- 
 ocritus, in particular, you give credit for his imi- 
 tations of Isaiah (page 353). In these opinions 
 you are not singular. Amongst others the elegant 
 Blair has entertained similar notions, as appears 
 by his Dissertation on Ossian*s Poems ; but, I 
 cannot help thinking, with little or no reason. 
 Surely very little probability attends the conjecture 
 that the Greek and Roman poets borrowed their 
 finest passages from the Jewish writers ; for it is 
 now generally admitted that Josephus (circ. an. 
 Ch. 80.) was the first person who introduced the 
 Hebrew nation to the acquaintance of the Romans ; 
 and after his time Tacitus, that most enlightened
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 209 
 
 historian, was so ignorant of the Jewish writings, 
 that he could not distinguish between the religion 
 of the Jews and that of the Egyptians. Longi- 
 nus (an. Ch. 27O.) was the first heathen author that 
 seems to have been acquainted with the sacred 
 Scriptures. Now Theocritus flourished near 300 
 years before Christ ! 
 
 I confess myself much puzzled by the follow- 
 ing note, page 365, line 98 : 
 
 " Prisoned in his ample chest," 
 
 Krj^ov according to Palmerius, not KeSgov. I sus- 
 pect some omission of the press here, otherwise 
 it sounds as if " in his ample chest" was meant for 
 the translation of *' Ke^pov eg aSsjay." There 
 seems to be a considerable difficulty in this pas- 
 sage, which Palmerius certainly has not lightened. 
 His substituting xspov must affect either the metre 
 or concord of his author, xepo^ being of the mascu- 
 line gender ; at best his word xrjpos (wax) must be 
 used per metam. in the sense we find it in Ovid, 
 
 *' Nonne vides quos cera texit sexangula foetus ?" 
 
 Neither can I think that the poet writ Ke^pav, for 
 if we may rely on the testimony of ^lian and of 
 Pliny, the cedar tree, from its pitchy qualities, is 
 found destructive of insects. I have here little 
 hesitation in reading 
 
 Qis re viv ai (Tifiai XeijuwvoQe ^€.ft(iov loitrai, 
 EAPAN es abeiav fxaXqicois avBetrai fxeXiaaai. 
 Utq. ipsum simse ex prato pascebant euntes 
 Sedeni in dulcem moUibus floribus apes. 
 P
 
 210 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Page 395. I am clearly of opinion with you 
 that Brodeus is right in restoring Theocritus's 
 reading, 6 ;faXa (rupiyyi MEAI^AilN, &c. not only 
 because, as you justly observe, it is more natural 
 and easy than ixspia-^cou, but because it is agreeable 
 to the idiom of the poet; thus the word occurs in 
 the 20th Idyl, v. 28, twice in the same line 
 
 Abv §e fiOL TO MEAISMA, kui yw avpiyyi MEAISAfll. 
 
 But a truce for a while to these crooked letters ; 
 let me inquire for Mrs. Polwhele and your dear 
 fire-side. I always ask after you whensoever 
 opportunity offers, and have always received the 
 most pleasing accounts of your household. I 
 lament, indeed, that you are not likely to remove 
 from Kenton to a more fixed habitation. I had warm 
 hopes that your interest and inclinations would 
 have led you to have set down finally in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Truro, and I should have rejoiced in 
 such an accession. But I hope time and chance 
 will throw us yet often together. 
 
 I believe you are scarcely yet admitted to the 
 jus trium llberorum, a distinction I have been 
 blessed with for upwards of 18 months, since which 
 my dear wife has presented me with a fine boy, 
 now just 3 months old : as far as I can judge at 
 present they appear to enjoy the meiis sana in 
 corpore sano ; and that is a never ceasing call 
 upon our gratitude. Believe me, my dear friend, 
 yours, most sincerely, ^ J. T.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 211 
 
 R. G. to R. p. 
 
 March 7, 1788. 
 
 Six weeksj my dear Polwhele, Have I resided in 
 this place with the D. and am not certain whether 
 I shall not be obliged to reside as much longer. 
 I begin now to be heartily sick of this idle dissi- 
 pated life, and to pant for the peace and tran- 
 quillity of K. Here is nothing pursued after, but 
 eating, drinking, and card-playing. As for the 
 last, it absolutely constitutes the very existence 
 of the inhabitants. They would literally die of 
 the tcedium vitce without it. I do not know what 
 occasions it, but I have observed in most cathe- 
 dral towns the same turn j and, what is worse, 
 generally unattended with any thing to compen- 
 sate for this contemptible manner of spending 
 their time. At L. they are absolutely a century 
 behind, the rest of their neighbours in literature 
 and taste. 
 
 Dr. G. however, who is the Precentor of the 
 Church, has contributed to make my time glide 
 away much more satisfactorily than it otherwise 
 would have done in his absence. He is a well- 
 known Cambridge character ; a man of first- 
 rate abilities, and possessed of a most uncommon 
 fund of solid information. He is very warmly 
 my friend, and interests himself very much in my 
 welfare. If you were to be present at some of 
 our morning t^te-a-t4tes it would recall to your 
 mind many of our college disputations ; for we 
 sometimes enter into the discussion of a literary
 
 i21g TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 point with as much spirit and animation as if our 
 reputation depended upon the event. 
 
 This morning he entertained me with an account 
 of Gray the poet, with whom he lived for some 
 years upon terms of the closest intimacy. He 
 speaks in the highest raptures of his poetical 
 powers and abilities, and asserts that he was supe- 
 rior to all mankind in every thing he undertook. 
 He gave me a specimen of his satirical talents, 
 which were written under a caricature (designed 
 and etched by Mason his brother poet) of a per- 
 son who was originally a Jew, but who renounced 
 his religion for the sake of a valuable living. The 
 lines are 
 
 " Such Tophet was ; — so grinn'd the bawHng fiend, 
 Affrighted Prelates bowed and call'd him friend. 
 Our Mother Church, with half averted sight, 
 Blush'd as she bless'd the griesly proselyte. 
 Hosannas rung through Hell's tremendous borders. 
 And Satan's self had thoughts of taking orders. 
 
 To understand the second line, 'tis necessary 
 to inform you, that this Tophet kept the con- 
 science of the minister. 
 
 As I am in a scribbling mood I cannot resist 
 communicating to you some more stanzas of the 
 above author. They were given me by Miss W. 
 The thought is chaste and elegant ; but I cannot 
 discover the hand of Gray in them. 
 
 *' Thyrsis, when he left me, swore 
 Ere 'twas Spring he would return ! 
 Ah ! what means that opening flower 
 And the bud that decks yon thorn ?
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 213 
 
 ** 'Tis the lark that upwards springs I 
 'Tis the nightingale that sings ! 
 Idle notes ! untimely green. 
 Why this unavailing haste ? 
 
 " Gentle gales and sky serene 
 Prove not always winter past ! 
 Cease my fears, my doubts to move. 
 Spare the honour of my love." 
 
 Gray's eifeminacy was the means of making 
 him a perpetual subject of ridicule among the 
 young men of the University. He took it into his 
 head, the Doctor informed me, of once letting his 
 whiskers grow, in order to counteract the idea of 
 his being less masculine than befitted the charac- 
 ter of the sublime author of the Bard. A wag; 
 of the same college bribed one of the scouts to 
 let his whiskers grow likewise. As he was a large 
 black looking fellow, he very soon exceeded Gray 
 in the dimensions of his mustachios ; and when 
 a vulgar joke from a bed-maker was superadded 
 to this piece of ridicule, the poor poet was ob- 
 liged to give up to the wits this only proof of 
 his manhood. 
 
 Sunday night, 9th. — To day has been passed 
 away in conviviality and parade. We have just 
 parted with the Judge (Baron Thompson) and with 
 about 30 council, who dined and spent the evening 
 here. His Lordship appears to be a sensible pene- 
 trating character, and was patronized and pro- 
 moted to his present elevated station by the Chan- 
 cellor, on account of those qualities. I should have 
 been happy to have enjoyed more of his conversa-
 
 214 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 tion, but I was obliged to preside at the side table, 
 where, if we did not equal the opposite table in the 
 depth of our remarks, we exceeded it in the bril- 
 liancy of our repartees. 
 
 Your friend, R. G. 
 
 R. G. to R. P. 
 
 May 17, 17SS. 
 Your last letter, my dearest Polwhele, was pecu- 
 liarly flattering. It proves beyond the least sha- 
 dow of doubt that your heart still glows with the 
 same degree of warmth and friendship for me, as 
 it did when we parted from each other at Christ 
 Church. Mine I can sincerely affirm has not 
 yielded to yours in point of intensity. It still 
 feels the same ardour, and will ever continue to 
 interest itself in your welfare. But what shall I 
 say to that unequivocal instance of your affection 
 and esteem which you have offered to give me, of 
 joining my name with your own in handing me 
 down to posterity as the friend of your youth ! 
 Shall I accept it ? When I consult my heart, I 
 cannot but confess but that I feel a ray of warmth, 
 which animates my whole frame, and leads me to 
 exult in the idea of being thus honoured by one 
 who concentrates the varied qualities of the head 
 and heart ; and who unites in himself the virtues 
 that dignify the private character, and the abiHties 
 that have made him conspicuous as a public cha-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 215 
 
 racter ! On the other hand, when I reflect that 
 riiy name carries neither weight nor authority 
 along with it, that it can add nothing to your in- 
 terest, nor tend to increase your influence ; when 
 I consider these objections, I cannot but acknow- 
 ledge, but that it would turn out more to your 
 advantage to select an object of greater impor- 
 tance to dignify the theme you have chosen. 
 
 Should you, however, continue to remain im- 
 moveable in your determination of publicly tes- 
 tifying your friendship for me, may it turn out 
 propitiously ; may we lead each other by the hand 
 as w^ell through the rugged scenes of life, as 
 through the no less rugged roads of literature, till 
 we be crowned with the same success ; you as 
 possessing one of the highest points of Parnassus, 
 and myself as inheriting a seat upon the same 
 lievel on Mount Sion. 
 
 On Monday next I go to Aston, to spend the 
 week with the above mentioned poet. I cannot 
 say but that I feel a degree of trepidation, in the 
 apprehension of visiting this veteran of the muses. 
 His manners, however, I am told, are mild and 
 amiable ; and he is particularly partial to the so- 
 ciety of young men of frank and ingenuous cha- 
 racters. Dr. G. (who has spoken of me in terms 
 that alarm my imagination, as they may lead Mr. 
 Mason to expect more from me than he will find,) 
 firmly asserts that the connection will turn out 
 much to my advantage. But here I trust you 
 will do me justice — you will not for a moment 
 suppose me influenced by a mercenary motive in
 
 Sl6 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 accepting his invitation. It proceeds from a 
 curiosity of knowing and conversing with a 
 man who has equally distingished himself in the 
 cause of humanity, as well as in poetry ; that is, 
 who literally unites in himself the characters of 
 the priest, the poet, and the philosopher. 
 
 In the course of the week I shall now and then 
 have an opportunity of employing my pen. If 
 the conversation should be interesting, you shall 
 receive a transcript of it, as I know your curiosity 
 will be excited, to be acquainted with the par- 
 ticulars. 
 
 I am now spending my time with Mr. G. of H. 
 in Derbyshire, a gentleman of about ^.5000 /?er 
 annum, literary, but eccentric. His wife is the 
 intimate friend of Miss Seward, who is expected 
 here in the course of the summer ; and who is no 
 less eccentric than her husband. She is by no 
 means a bad poetess, as you will find from the 
 subscribed stanza, which I transcribed from a poem 
 she shewed me this morning, upon friendship. 
 
 " Nice Honour was surely thy sire. 
 Sensibility calls thee her child, 
 Enthusiasm gave thee her fire. 
 Soft Sympathy nursed thee and smil'd." 
 
 When Miss Seward arrives, I am under an en- 
 gagement to give her the meeting. I am not 
 more solicitous to see this votary of the Ele- 
 giac Muse, than to converse with that of the 
 Tragic Muse. 
 
 Yours affectionately, R. G.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 217 
 
 R. G. to R. p. 
 
 Kirkby, July 28, 1788. 
 My visit, my dear Polwhele, has at length been 
 paid to the author of Elfrida. I went there on 
 the Monday, and returned on the Saturday, con- 
 sequently had time sufficient to form an idea of 
 his character. You can easily conceive, that the 
 man who first introduced himself to your friend- 
 ship at college, by observing at collections when 
 going up to be examined, (do you recollect this ?) 
 that he felt the tortures of the d d, would ex- 
 perience some degree of diffidence and trepida- 
 tion on hearing his name announced as he entered 
 under Mason's roof. And not the less so, when 
 I tell you, that my friend H. had been endeavour- 
 ing to beguile the length of the way, by expati- 
 ating on the pleasure lis felt in introducing me to 
 a character of such eminence, and that he hoped 
 Mr. Mason would find that his account of me 
 was neither visionary nor exaggerated. There 
 was a kind of sedate benignity in his countenance, 
 however, which soon dissipated these terrors of 
 apprehension, and taught me instantaneously to 
 rely on him as a man, the leading traits of whose 
 disposition were feeling and reflection. This im- 
 mediate impression of his character I found after- 
 wards to be strictly just. I never yet met with 
 a human being, whose head and heart appear to 
 act and re-act so reciprocally, so concordantly 
 upon each other, as his. 'Tis this harmonious 
 conjunction of body and mind, which in my 
 opinion constitutes the genuine poet. 'Tis this
 
 218 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 which enables him to mark the beauties of nature, 
 to taste their effects, and to groupe them in such 
 a manner as to affect, through the medium of 
 imitative representation, others of equal suscep- 
 tibility with himself. 
 
 I cannot say for some time that I felt myself 
 at my ease. I could not help considering him 
 (see with what awe you poets strike us inferior 
 mortals !) as a species of being of a higher order 
 of intelligence ! as a writer whose honours were 
 blooming rich around him ; and as one whose 
 name time had already begun to immortalize on 
 his rock of adamant ; his condescension how- 
 ever, soon enabled me to collect myself. I after- 
 wards conversed with him freely and unreservedly 
 upon general topics, and enjoyed the satisfaction 
 of having my vanity flattered, on perceiving that 
 we mutually coalesced in our principles and 
 opinions. 
 
 In his style of conversation, you can trace 
 nothing of the vis vivida of the poet. Here his in- 
 ventive powers apparently lie dormant. Those 
 flashes of genius, those intellectual emanations 
 which we are taught to believe great men cannot 
 help darting forward, in order to lighten up the 
 gloom of colloquial communication, he seems to 
 consider as affected; he therefore rejects them 
 whenever they occur, and appears to pride himself 
 on the preference v»^hich he gives to simplicity and 
 perspicuity. Conversation (if you will excuse a pe- 
 dantic allusion !) w^ith him resembles the style of 
 painting mentioned in the earlier part of the 
 Athenian History, which consisted in represent-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 219 
 
 ing the artist's ideas in a simple unaffected point 
 of view, through the medium of one colour only ; 
 whereas his writings are like the pictures of Polig- 
 notus. They glow with all the warmth of an in- 
 vigorated imagination, an animated diction, and 
 a rich luxuriant phraseology. 
 
 'Tis unnecessary, I presume, to tell you, that 
 Polygnotus was the first person who introduced 
 the mixture of colours. 
 
 His manners, too, are equally as chaste and un- 
 affected as his conversation. The stream that 
 winds its easy way through woods and verdant 
 meads, is not less artificial or more insinuating 
 than he is in doing the honours of the table, or 
 promoting the graces of the drawing room. That 
 peculiar happiness which some few I have met 
 with possess, of reconciling you implicitly to their 
 superiority, he enjoys in an eminent degree, by 
 the amiability of his sentiments, the benignity of 
 his attention, and particularly by an indescribable 
 way with him, of making you appear to advantage, 
 even when he convinces you of the erroneousness 
 of your opinions, or the inconclusiveness of your 
 reasoning. 
 
 In regard to his morals, I believe from what I 
 have collected, that few can look back upon a 
 period of sixty years existence, spent so uniformly 
 pure and correct. In the course of our chit chat, 
 he informed me, in an unostentatious, unaffected 
 manner, that he never was intoxicated but once. 
 I give the man credit for the possession of the 
 sublimest merit, that can say this at his time of
 
 220 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 life. I give him the same degree of credit, Uke- 
 wise, for another instance of temperance equal to 
 this, though not of the same species ; when he 
 was a young man, he made a determination as 
 soon as he came to the possession of his present 
 property, which at that time was entailed upon 
 him, to accept of no additional preferment. 
 This resolution he has invariably adhered to, 
 though many have been the temptations to induce 
 him to break through it. But I should not omit 
 mentioning, that when he came to the possession 
 of his estate, the first thing he did to testify to 
 the world his principles, was the giving up his 
 Chaplainship to the King. A priest (says he) in 
 that situation, cannot help looking forward to- 
 wards a Bishoprick — a species of ambition incom- 
 patible with the simplicity and purity of the chris- 
 tian character ; for the moment (he superadded) 
 that a man aspires to the purple, that very mo- 
 ment virtue goes out of him. 
 
 He may, with great truth, be said to be the 
 successor of Pope in the elegancy of his retire- 
 ment, and the respectability of his connections. 
 He has about ^1500 per annum to live upon ; 
 and one third of this, I am informed, he devotes 
 to patronage and charity. He keeps a regular 
 table of two courses, which is open to all his 
 friends who visit him, without waiting for the 
 formality of an invitation. 
 
 His genius (you observe I write without order 
 or method) is not confined to poetry. It has 
 penetrated the regions of the other arts ; and that
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 221 
 
 too with no small success. Some of his produc- 
 tions in painting rise considerably above medi- 
 ocrity, and have extorted praise even from the 
 sublime Sir Joshua. His compositions in music, 
 specimens of which he has given me, possess so 
 many strokes of originality, that I am convinced 
 had he devoted the same proportion of time in 
 cultivating the smiles and good opinion of that 
 bev/itching nymph as he has done to her Parnassian 
 sisters', he would have been equally interesting 
 and great : even in architecture he has shewn the 
 same elegance and taste. His house at Aston, 
 with the ornaments, &c. were made after his own 
 designs. 
 
 You would have been highly delighted had you 
 spent the week with us. We constituted among 
 us a little academy of the Arts and Sciences. In 
 one corner of the library his curate was construct- 
 ing a dial ; in another, Mr. H. was copying a head 
 of Addison, which Mr. Mason intended as a pre- 
 sent to the Bishop of Worcester ; in a third was 
 your friend, placed at the piano-forte, correcting 
 some of Mr. M's. productions ; and, lastly, there 
 was he himself sitting pensively, " bodying forth 
 the forms of things unknown." I wished very 
 earnestly for you -, I knew it was a set that was 
 exactly calculated for your character. 
 
 We conversed much upon poetry ; and particu- 
 larly upon Dry den. Would you conceive it, that 
 he disapproves of many parts of the celebrated 
 Ode on St. Cecilia's Day. He objected, in some 
 respects, against the measure, as partaking too
 
 222 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 much of the ballad species ; and as being too re- 
 mote from the lyric genius ; such as 
 
 "War, he sung, is toil and trouble, 
 Honour but an empty bubble, &c." 
 
 " With ravish'd ears 
 The monarch hears, &c." 
 
 The repetition of 
 
 " Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'ii, &c." 
 
 he said, was devoid of all meaning ; and that it 
 rather tended to excite something bordering on 
 the ludicrous, than to add to the pathetic impres- 
 sions already excited. 
 
 Gray he seems to idolize. He says he had more 
 true poetical enthusiasm, more of that divine 
 phrenzy whicii constitutes what ought to be 
 deemed the true bard, (but which the present 
 rage after philosophical pursuits has nearly ex- 
 tinguished,) than all the modern poets put together. 
 
 We conversed, too, about yourself. Praise 
 from such a character as Mason, must be deemed 
 sterling. Receive it, therefore, with due respect, 
 when I tell you, that he passed the highest com- 
 pliments on your Theocritus. He said, that for 
 smoothness, and harmony of versification, you had 
 considerably exceeded your originals. In par- 
 ticular, he instanced those lines in the " Vernal 
 Voyage," from the l65th line to the 176th. When 
 I told him that you had completed that volume 
 within the small space of six months, he appeared 
 surprised, and observed, "with application such
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 223 
 
 powers of mind might aspire to the completion 
 
 of great things." 
 
 * * # * * *^ * 
 
 Of Music we had so divine a treat ! at the first 
 pause Dr. G. seized a pen, and immediately scrib- 
 bled the following lines : 
 
 " Orpheus, 'tis said, once touch'd the lyre so well. 
 He drew his loved Eurydice from Hell : 
 Vain boast ! — To Mason's pious harp 'tis given 
 To raise enraptured multitudes to Heaven !" 
 
 With that he threw them into the fire. I told him, 
 however, it was useless ; for I was sure of retain- 
 ing them. 
 
 It will aflPord you pleasure to know that we are 
 upon the best terms. He was so condescending 
 as to say, that he considered my friendship as an 
 acquisition, and that he hoped, as I was now free 
 of his house, I would come to see him, whenever 
 
 I had a week to devote to him. 
 
 ******* 
 
 In my way from L I stopped a day at 
 
 my friend's, Mr. B. Unfortunately, the very day 
 I left it, who should arrive and spend his evening 
 there, but J.*. He was introduced by a brother 
 
 counsel, in their way from L to N 
 
 How extremely vexatious ! When I heard of it 
 I could not help shewing my philosophical pro- 
 ficiency, by the expletives that flow'd from me 
 on the occasion. He made many enquiries about 
 me, and seemed to envy the life I led, which con- 
 * One of our Christ Church party.
 
 2S4 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 sisted (as he poetically observed) in gathering 
 flowers, while his was spent in plucking nettles ! 
 Yet the rogue has no reason to complain. He 
 met with two briefs, which (considering this was 
 the first time he attended the Circuit,) was more 
 than he had any claim to expect. Don't you 
 think that his nettles will produce better seed 
 than my flowers ? 
 
 Little S.* has succeeded to his father's living 
 in Bucks. When J. was at Northampton, arrayed 
 in black, and his full flowing wig, he happened to 
 espy S. in court, and tapped him upon the shoulder; 
 but to his surprise found that his little friend 
 gaped upon him, without shewing those signs of 
 joy which generally attend the unexpected meet- 
 ing of brother Collegians. When he mentioned his 
 name, however, he found the Lilliputian as warm 
 as he could wish. 
 
 Before I conclude I must tell you that I am 
 studying Italian very hard, and have entered into 
 a correspondence in that language with a gentle- 
 man who lives within a few miles of me. Mr. 
 Mason has nearly persuaded me to undertake 
 to translate a work which is much talk'd of at 
 Rome, &c. The title is, Le Revoluzioni del 
 Teatro Musicale Italiano ; by Stefano Arteaga, 
 3 vols. If you look into the Appendix to the 
 Monthly Review of last year, you will see the 
 particulars. Should I pursue the advice, I shall 
 hope to have your assistance in revising, &c. 
 Adieu ! Let me hear from you soon. 
 
 Yours very affectionately, R. G. 
 
 * Another of our Christ Church party.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 225 
 
 Dear P. Dec. 20, 1788. 
 
 I received your proposals for writing the His- 
 tory of Devonshire yesterday, and will endeavour 
 to procure you a few names — mine of course you 
 will command ; not only in the present work, but 
 in any future one that you may undertake. Your 
 plan I much approve of. I presume you will go 
 through a course of botany and mineralogy, &c. 
 in order to treat on those subjects scientifically. 
 The same plan I proposed as an eligible one a few 
 years since, to a gentleman, for the ground-work 
 of the History of Derbyshire ; a county by no 
 means dissimilar to that of Devon. But I recom- 
 mended distributing the respective branches into 
 different hands. Old Pegge was to write the his- 
 torical and antiquarian ; Whitehurst (the author 
 of the formation of the earth) the subterranean ; 
 Lightfoot, the botanical ; and Gilpin the pictu- 
 resque parts of it. This idea was by no means 
 impracticable, as the two former lived in the coun- 
 ty, and the third in the adjoining one. 
 
 If the motives that led you to undertake this 
 work are the profitable! prudence justifies you in 
 writing it. If not, as I think it will interfere very 
 considerably with your belle-lettre pursuits, you are 
 blameable. The reputation you have obtained by 
 your poetical publications, ought to make you cau- 
 tious on entering into a new line. The transition 
 from the flowery walks of poetry to the barren paths 
 of antiquity, (I could almost say) is unnatural. 
 I entertain the highest opinion of your abilities, 
 
 Q
 
 226 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 but the experience requisite to enable you to com- 
 plete a work of this nature, and to add to your 
 fame, must be purchased by much labour and ex- 
 ertion. Besides, will it not have a tendency to 
 damp that fire so essentially necessary to poetical 
 enthusiasm ? And will you not, in the end, lose 
 
 more by the exchange ? 
 
 # * * * * * * 
 
 On Monday next I go to Aston, and shall con- 
 tinue there till Christmas Day. Mr. Mason and 
 myself are upon the most friendly terms. We 
 chat together as frankly and unreservedly as we 
 ourselves did when at Oxford. Continue to love 
 me. Yours affectionately, R. G*. 
 
 Lord Mount Edgecumbe to R. P. 
 
 Sir, Grosvenor Street, Dec. 16, 1788. 
 
 I am very much obliged to you for the honour 
 you intend doing me, in the dedication of your 
 projected " History of Devonshire," and shall be 
 very happy to contribute to the work by any 
 assistance I can give you. For what relates to 
 my family you will in great measure be satisfied 
 from Carew's " Survey of Cornwall," and Collins's 
 " Peerage;" but I believe I have some papers at 
 
 * All this is truly eloquent ! In descending to domestic con- 
 cerns, my friend becomes still more interesting : his sentiment 
 and his language are inimitably beautiful. I doubt whether any 
 paragraphs can be selected from Pope's or any other letters equal 
 to the above, in spirit or in elegance.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 2^7 
 
 Mount Edgecumbe not mentioned in either ; such 
 as its being summoned to surrender to the Parlia- 
 ment's fleet and army, and some other anecdotes. 
 
 I shall be glad of the pleasure of seeing you at 
 Mount Edgecumbe, whenever your conveniency 
 leads you that way ; and am, Sir, your obedient, 
 humble servant. Mount Edgecumbe. 
 
 R. P. to the Rev. C. Toogood. 
 
 My dear Sir, 1788. 
 
 Have you seen the " Supplemental Volume of 
 Bishop Warburton's Works," just published ? You 
 are, doubtless, well acquainted with the late splen- 
 did edition. This volume is designed for those who 
 possess the Bishop's other productions as originally 
 published. 
 
 But the occasion of my addressing you on the 
 subject is, to ask you whether this may not be the 
 moment for calling on a relation of the late learned 
 Rector of St. Mabyn to publish the remainder 
 of that *' Reply " which we have so often talked 
 of? Certain it is that all the obnoxious notes are 
 retained in the new edition of Warburton. 
 
 You may recollect, that when I had last the 
 pleasure of conversing with you, it was thrown 
 out (I think by your humble servant), as a pro- 
 blematical question, whether the theological works 
 of Warburton have a greater tendency to confirm 
 or to weaken the interests of religion ? I conceive 
 there is too much reason for inclining to the latter 
 
 q2
 
 228 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 opinion. More ingenious than solid, more plau- 
 sible than convincing, more learned than pious, 
 the writings of the Bishop of Gloucester have 
 been, in many instances, a stumbling-block to the 
 honest, unphilosophical believer ; whilst they have 
 furnished the polemic with an abundant supply of 
 materials on which to exercise his ingenuity, and 
 to diffuse his controversial acrimony. There is 
 one light, indeed, in which the Bishop's theories 
 may be viewed as having done good, inasmuch as 
 they have excited the spirit of good and able men 
 in the investigation of the truth. Every Christian 
 must revere the memory of the late Rector of 
 St. Mabyn ; and to him we are indebted for the 
 " Critical Dissertation on the Book of Job," in 
 consequence of Warburton's '* Divine Legation 
 of Moses." 
 
 The erudition of Mr. Peters was uncommon, 
 his piety was unaffected ; yet neither his erudition 
 nor his piety (as we observed) could shelter him 
 from the most illiberal abuse. " The insolence^ 
 the frauds the nonsense, the lUsingenuousness, the 
 ignoi^ance, the prevarication^'^ were terms which 
 ^^ proud Gloucester^'"' scrupled not to apply to the 
 hiuuble parish priest. But " was it necessary (says 
 Peters) that he should assume these superior airs 
 to let the simple know what an aweful distance is 
 to be maintained between a dignified and an un- 
 dignified clergyman ?" This passage occurs in 
 the " Reply " of Mr. Peters to the notes of War- 
 burton. A part only of this " Reply," you know, 
 has appeared in print, as subjoined to the " Critical 
 * See Churchill.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 229 
 
 Dissertation." I have read, however, the whole 
 in MS. and the late Vicar of St. Clement's (who 
 possessed the MS.) used often to tell me that he 
 wished much for an opportunity for publishing the 
 whole together, as his uncle had directed, in case 
 the " Divine Legation" should be re-edited, " with 
 all its scurrilities." A more favourable oppor- 
 tunity, then, for the publication of this little work, 
 could scarcely be expected ; and I venture to pre- 
 dict, that the public taste would relish it, as a 
 pleasant morceau of criticism and well-seasoned 
 raillery. 
 
 To pass from divinity to poetry — I was last night 
 in company with a Miss W. on whose successful 
 vindication of Gray's " Ode to Spring,*' against 
 the charge of obscurity, I wrote, impromptu, these 
 lines with a pencil : 
 
 To vindicate a poet's strain, 
 
 When female accents flow, 
 With sullen wrinkles frowns in vain 
 
 The hypercritic brow. 
 
 'Tis thus thy bright ideas check 
 
 Th' asperser's weak essay; 
 While, gentle pleader ! not a speck 
 
 Obscures the page of Gray. 
 
 Yet spare the task — to grace thy Bard 
 
 The tuneful ode i-ehearse ; 
 Thy liquid voice alone, sweet W — d ! 
 
 Gives clearness to his verse ! 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 Yours, truly, R. P. 
 
 * The Rev. Charles Peters, son of the Vicar of St. Clement's, 
 is a man of learning and taste. That his respect for the memoiy 
 of his great uncle should not have induced him to examine the 
 " Reply," and other MSS. of that eminent man, is surprising.
 
 230 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Major Drewe to the Printer of the Exeter Flying 
 
 Post. 
 Sir, Exeter, Jan. 17, 1789. 
 
 I was in a distant part of the kingdom when I 
 received the advertisement for the county meeting 
 of yesterday. I came down post to attend it. I 
 should have considered my absence, or that of any 
 individual, as a dereliction of the cause of the 
 community, and a contempt for the county at 
 large. I was called on by my friends to give my 
 sentiments, and much as I am pleased with the una- 
 nimity that appeared on my side of the question, 
 yet I cannot but regret that the mode of expressing 
 it was such as to prevent my learning the argu- 
 ments which might have been advanced by gentle- 
 men on the opposite side, and which might possibly 
 have made me exchange the opinion, which I beg 
 through your paper to convey to my acquaintance. 
 
 We have heard much of the political mirror, 
 but the allusion may be strained farther than the 
 general idea admits of. Place a looking-glass be- 
 tween two men equally quick-sighted, to the one 
 it will appear luminous, to the other opake j yet 
 the object is the same. Fallacy of opinion is the 
 lot of man ; and why ? because certainty rests in 
 heaven. Why then should acrimony accompany 
 incertitude, or public opinion root up private af- 
 fection ? 
 
 I know personally neither of the contending 
 champions. I respect the splendid abilities and 
 social virtues of Mr. Fox, and will give him full
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 231 
 
 credit for all he might have done had opportunity 
 offered. I rest my vote of thanks on what Mr. 
 Pitt has done for the nation. That opposition 
 which was considered as a constitutional drag- 
 chain on the wheels of government, he found so 
 entangled in the spokes as to prevent even its 
 necessary motion ; this, with a firm hand, he re- 
 moved, and guided the machine with an equal 
 and steady rein. Hence, at home we find a full 
 treasury, an increasing revenue, a mode esta- 
 blished for paying our debts, the India Company 
 raised from the dust, and an advantageous treaty 
 of commerce formed with our great national foe. 
 Abroad we find powerful alliance, Sweden pro- 
 tected from Denmark, Russia bullied in Poland, 
 France torn with factions, Spain detached from 
 her interest, and Holland rescued from her grasp ; 
 and this is not the work of half a century, but of 
 five years only ; not of the politician grown old in 
 practice, but of an almost beardless youth, de- 
 voting his spring of life to his country. 
 
 Some clouds occasionally have shaded this pros- 
 pect — perhaps some productive taxes have fallen 
 unequally on the subject — some of his favourite 
 schemes have proved abortive, and to the success 
 of others he has been indebted for the hints of his 
 opponents. For the first it may be said, that no 
 taxes can pass without a majority in both Houses ; 
 and with all due deference, those who enjoy the 
 luxuries of life will not be the readiest to tax 
 them. The relinquishing an impracticable scheme 
 must at least acquit the minister of obstinacy, and
 
 US^ TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 his adopting the measures of his foes is the most 
 convincing proof of his candour. I shall give you 
 two instances, not generally known, of his secrecy 
 and his probity, the former so unusual, that a wit 
 of the last administration said a spy was a sinecure 
 in London, and I do not believe the latter to be 
 in very common use. 
 
 A noble friend of mine was in Holland, at Mr. 
 Hope's, the great banker ; the conversation turned 
 on the Commercial Treaty, which Hope said was 
 in favour of Britain. — Are the French Ministers 
 then outwitted ? — No, they see where the balance 
 lies, but this is some douceur to sweeten your 
 mouths whilst they strike some stroke now medi- 
 tating, but which (observe) w^e can form no con- 
 jecture of here. France snatched at Holland. — 
 It was supposed our Minister would not inter- 
 meddle, lest the commercial interest, dreading a 
 war, should push him from his seat, but he had 
 allied himself with Prussia, — it was Prussia in- 
 vaded and rescued Holland. Pitt arms, and de- 
 clares it to be for the protection of the coasts of 
 Britain only : the fleet disarmed, who of us did 
 not expect that the million in the Sinking Fund 
 would be appropriated to this service. The nation 
 rushed with ardour to taxation. This was a pro- 
 mised harvest to the Minister ; but lo ! the million 
 stands untouched, — no taxes are laid on, — the 
 whole sum is paid out of the surplus of the re- 
 venue. Let those who smart under former tax- 
 ation reflect, that after a prodigious armament the 
 Minister has now no taxes to propose. The best
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 233 
 
 eulogium on this masterpiece of complicated poli- 
 tics and domestic economy, is given him by his 
 generous opponent, who declared it to be equal 
 to the best days of his father. 
 
 From equal authority I learn, that Mr. Pitt 
 found an exhausted Treasury. The former Mi- 
 nisters, candidly informed by him that he was to 
 succeed them, paid all they could out of the Trea- 
 sury to distress him. Parliament was to meet in 
 a few days. The Mutiny Bill was to be passed, 
 and the army paid. The citizens of London 
 offered a loan — all the Ministers were for accept- 
 ing it ; but Pitt said it was unconstitutional that 
 the army should be paid by loan, and declared 
 that he would rather resign than begin an Admi- 
 nistration on these terms. This he persevered in ; 
 and on the very day when he was almost overpow- 
 ered in the House, by the attacks made on him as 
 the Minister of the Prerogative, he went from 
 thence into Council expecting to be dismissed as 
 the real friend of the people. 
 
 I have trespassed much on your paper ; I shall 
 say little on the Regency. All the precedents 
 that the Regent is elected by Parliament appear 
 to me conclusive. But why seek for precedent ? 
 Suppose the case new ; we must act then from the 
 exigencies of the time. When society was first 
 formed, where was the precedent that directed its 
 operations ? A Great Personage, so far from 
 pleading right, has not personally laid in his claim. 
 Restrictions are necessary on those who are to 
 have care of an estate belonging to another ; and
 
 234 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 should any heir-at-law have entangled himself in 
 a party dangerous to the interests of that estate, 
 he would doubtless thank him, who, by restric- 
 tions, prevented his fulfilling any rash promises ; 
 keeping sacred his word as a gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Burke has blended the abstract idea of the 
 Great Seal with the personal idea of its keeper, 
 and called it a formidable phantom, with black 
 eye-brows and a large wig ; but he is familiarized 
 to a phantom yet m.ore dangerous, a lifrons Janus, 
 with one face looking towards private intempe- 
 rance, the other towards public virtue. That men 
 can be dissolute in private life, and virtuous in 
 their public conduct ; squanderous of their own 
 means, and economists of that of the state ; careless 
 of their own ruin, yet tenderly alive to public pros- 
 perity, is an enigma of too complex a texture for 
 me to unfold. Sallust has blended the Alieni 
 €ippetens with the sui prqfusus. The distressed 
 man will seek means of restoring himself to com- 
 petence, not from mischievous intentions, perhaps, 
 but impelled by nature and necessity. Open tlie 
 Treasury for him, it answers not his purpose ; 
 rigid exactness reigns there ; plunge us into a 
 war, and the article of secret service money wipes 
 out every score. 
 
 I conclude. Sir, with my firm belief, that as the 
 ray of Pitt's genius has illumined our waning em- 
 pire, so when this ray is quenched, we shall fade 
 away from before the nations. Ere that threaten- 
 ing event, I was proud to give even my silent vote 
 to the illustrious son of Chatham ; equal to his 
 
 I
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. Q35 
 
 father in vigorous expedient, his superior in elo- 
 quence and finance ; temperate in a luxurious age, 
 and firm amidst contending factions ; unmoved by 
 the wiles of avarice, or the allurements of pleasure ; 
 blending the fire of genius with the industry of 
 patient application ; casting popularity from him 
 when the exigencies of the state demanded vigour, 
 and courted back by the people as the bulwark 
 of their rights. I respect in him a Roman Censor 
 in a British Senate ; a Minister far transcending 
 my praise, since no language less powerful than 
 his own can speak his ability and uprightness. 
 
 Yours, &c. E. D.* 
 
 R. G. to R. P. 
 Dear Sir, July 9, 1789. 
 
 Tv *«■ TT "TV" TV "n' TV TT 
 
 Your Sermons, I have the satisfaction of in- 
 forming you, have considerably increased your 
 literary reputation. They are felt and admired, 
 in no small degree, by every one to whom I have 
 sent them. There is a something in the style 
 that produces an effect that I cannot account for : 
 one is impressed with a feeling that you are, with 
 all your " soul, your mind and heart," a sincere 
 
 * The above was written with a degree of rapidity which 
 astonished me, I was present at the time. It was copied with 
 scarcely the alteration of a word. But I print it here because I 
 think it supremely eloquent 3 and not more eloquent than just.
 
 Q36 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Christian. Over the productions of the generality of 
 our modern Divines a species of philosophic cool- 
 ness is diffused, that tends considerably to lessen 
 the dignity of the cause they are defending. To 
 influence the will to action, the affections should 
 be appealed to ; it is through that medium that mo- 
 rality produces the sublimest effects ; the language 
 declaratory of her laws should consequently be 
 eloquent and persuasive. In this requisite you 
 have admirably succeeded ; so much so, that I 
 declare there is no writer that makes deeper im- 
 pressions upon me concerning the beauty of the 
 Christian dispensation than yourself. 
 
 Your Poem, too, (that flattering monument of 
 our friendship, cere perenn'ms) has afforded me 
 the highest gratification, without viewing it 
 through the medium of affectionate partiality. 
 I consider it as one of your best effusions ; it is 
 mild and insinuating ; it breathes no tones of 
 tumult ; riots in no sounds of discordant harsh- 
 ness ; exhibits no instance of eccentric metaphor, 
 or flaunting imagery ; but is uniformly conspi- 
 cuous for its melody, simplicity, and variety, ex- 
 cept a few lines and some rhimes, which I shall 
 touch upon in my next ; and it is as perfect a 
 little thing as ever came out. 
 
 Adieu — Believe me to be yours affectionately, 
 
 R. G.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 237 
 
 Francis Gregor, Esq. to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, Restormel Park, May 30, 1790. 
 
 I take the liberty of informing you that Friday, 
 July the second, is the day appointed by the 
 Sheriff for the election of the representatives of 
 Cornwall. I shall esteem your attendance and sup- 
 port at the poll, a peculiar honour and obligation. 
 I am your obliged and obedient servant, 
 
 F. Gregor *=. 
 
 * Mr. G. had before promised " with confidence, an active 
 faithful discharge of his duty if elected one of the representatives 
 of Cornwall, and had declared himself wholly independent of all 
 men and parties." On all occasions I have been ready to recur 
 to Mr. Gregor, and to contemplate his merits. That I may re- 
 cal to mind so worthy a character, I have introduced the above 
 letter. The late Archdeacon Andrew and myself had the plea- 
 sure of travelling together on horseback, from the neighbour- 
 hood of Exeter to Lestwithiel " to vote for Gregor." That a 
 gentleman of so liberal a mind as Sir John St. Aubyn should 
 have been opposed to Gregor, was painful to us both ; but we 
 had many reasons to determine our suffrages in favour of the 
 possessor of Restormel Park. 
 
 In the booth where " Qncesitor Minos" &c. &c. the fluent elo- 
 cution of Lens surprised us. It was one continued flow, without 
 the slightest agitation, neither rising nor sinking, for upwards of 
 two hours. Many have I heard speak most eloquently from pas- 
 sion ; but never before or since have I heard any one speak like 
 Lens, so smoothly and eloquently, and yet so correctly. On this 
 emergency, the parish clerks were pressed into the service j some 
 had their salaries increased from thirty to forty shillings, and one 
 man, thus dubbed a vote, lost his horse on the road, which he 
 said was " a judgment." But to return to Mr. Gregor. In the 
 "Cornwall History," or rather sketch, and in the little volume 
 of " Essays," I have drawn his character, and have little more to
 
 238 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 R. Hole to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Dr. Downman yesterday called on me, and de- 
 sired I would send you the Ode prefixed to Fin- 
 gal, &c. which is inclosed. He said you had 
 changed sexes with my ideal beings, in the Ode to 
 Melancholy (strictly speaking, I believe, they are 
 both feminine), and that in one of the first lines 
 you had said, 
 
 ' whom of yore. 
 
 To Grief, loose tressed Fancy bore. 
 
 I think Grief, unpersonified, follows just after, 
 therefore recommend 
 
 whom of yore. 
 
 To pensive Sorrow, Fancy bore. 
 
 Within about thirty or thirty-five lines of the 
 conclusion of the Ode to Terror, is this passage. 
 
 Now they bid its pinions sweep 
 The raging billows : wide around 
 They foam, &c. 
 
 Would it not be better, 
 
 They bid its wings of darkness sweep 
 The raging billows : ■ 
 
 add here than qualis ah incepto, &c. &c. We might say, indeed, 
 crescit eundo ; for every day and every hour his conduct was such 
 as to excite the admiration and conciliate the esteem of all who 
 knew him.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 239 
 
 Or, Its outstretch'd wings in darkness sweep 
 
 Tlie raging billows. 
 
 Yours sincerely, R. H *. 
 
 * The Rev. Rich. Hole, born at Exeter, was son of Archdeacon 
 Hole, of Exeter College, Oxford, where he proceeded B.C.L. in 
 1771, and at his death, 28 May 1803, rector of Faringdon and 
 Inwardleigh, in Devon. His Ode to Ten or is the best of all his 
 poetry. 
 
 " Now wildly thro' the extended plain. 
 With the moon's mild light array'd, 
 I gaze; yet all dismay 'd 
 Would fain, yet dare not, close their lids again. 
 See thro' the path in yonder grove. 
 Silent and slow a phantom move ! 
 He stops, he turns, on me he bends his view. 
 His course unknown he waves me to pursue. 
 Alas ! in vain I seek to fly j 
 My powerless limbs their aid deny ; 
 And fear, that gave the spectre birth. 
 Rivets me motionless to earth." 
 
 This is the finest passage in the Ode to Terror. 
 Six or seven years before, we met with the following passage 
 in Miss Williams's Poems. 
 
 " My feet are fixed ! dismay has bound 
 
 My step on this polluted ground 3 
 
 But lo ! the pitying moon a line of light 
 
 Athwart the horrid darkness dimly throws. 
 And from yon grated window chases night. 
 
 Ye visions, that before me roll. 
 
 That freeze my blood, that shake my soul. 
 
 Are ye the phantoms of a dream ? 
 
 Pale spectres ! are ye what ye seem ? 
 
 They glide more near.^ 
 
 Their forms unfold ! 
 Fix'd are their eyes ! on me they bend ! 
 
 Their glaring look is cold."
 
 240 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Mrs. SiMcoE to R. P. 
 
 Wolford-lodge, Oct. 13, 1790. 
 
 Mrs. Simcoe presents her compliments to Mr. 
 Polwhele, and begs to inform him that Miss Hunt 
 has, at last, at the solicitations of her friends, con- 
 sented to have her name affixed to the Verses on 
 Dunksvvell Abbey. She desires it may be insert- 
 ed, " Miss Htrnt, daughter of Doctor Hunt, rec- 
 tor of Stoke Doyle, in Northamptonshire." 
 
 I insert the above, for the sake of the ruins of 
 Dunkeswell, and the romantic air in which they 
 rise to imagination. It was there Badcock first 
 caught the flame of poetry. Colonel (afterwards 
 General) Simcoe's house, Wolford-lodge, is situ- 
 ated at a short distance from the Abbey of 
 Dunkeswell. And the Colonel himself, a man of 
 taste, as well as an antiquary, delighted in bring- 
 ing together, under his hospitable roof, " the 
 choice spirits of the west," as he called them, 
 and, indeed of the east ; for Miss Hunt was not 
 a Devonian poetess. This lady, Badcock met at 
 Wolford-lodge ; with her he conversed ; with her he 
 rambled ; with her he visited " the ruins." On 
 their return from Dunkeswell one morning, Sim- 
 coe proposed to them a trial of poetic skill. Bad- 
 cock, it seems, shrank from the competition. But 
 Miss Hunt produced, in a few hours, that fine 
 Elegiac piece to which Mrs. Simcoe refers, and 
 which I have printed in the first volume of the 
 Devon Poems, at p. 134.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 241 
 
 Badcock was certainly enamoured of this lady. 
 In a letter * written at the house of our common 
 friend, Archdeacon Moore, Sept. 27, 1786, he 
 thus speaks of Miss H. " I think this excellent 
 young lady, who is but just twenty, if so old, will 
 snatch the laurel from every female brow. She 
 hath great force of intellect, an acute and well 
 furnished understanding, as well as an ardent and 
 copious fancy ; and her heart is as amiable and 
 pure as her genius is vigorous and splendid. I 
 was charmed with her manners. A sweet dispo- 
 sition softened her address ; and a strong sense of 
 Religion gave a dignity and weight to all her other 
 accomplishments. She hath been for some months 
 at Admiral Graves's ; and both he and his lady, 
 who is remarkably sensible, assured me that her 
 mental talents are the least valuable part of what 
 she possesses. I am now at the house of my most 
 learned friend Mr. Moore, Canon of Exeter. We 
 dine with the Bishop to-day." 
 
 Thus Badcock sprang up a Poet ; but he died 
 (" alas! how soon he died!") before our publica- 
 tion of that delicious Ode, which stands at the 
 head of the Lyric pieces, (vol. i. p. 3.) and which 
 deservedly stands there ; for it gives Badcock the 
 pre-eminence over our whole poetic corps, if 
 Hole, perhaps, and Greville be excepted. I al- 
 lude to Grevilie's "Ode to Fancy," (vol, i. p. 71.) 
 in which there is more original imagery than in 
 Collins's " Evening," and, I think, more beautiful. 
 
 * Addressed to his friend Mr, Nichols.
 
 242 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 The Rev. John Swete to R. P. 
 
 My dear Sir, Oxton-house, Oct. 1790. 
 
 I have been revising some of my poetic rhapso- 
 dies for your miscellany. Take them, and select 
 from them what you please. I write from my 
 pillow, where I am nursing a pretty severe cold. 
 Excuse more from your faithful friend. J. S. 
 
 The following are some of Mr. Swete's effu- 
 sions, which were not printed for want of room. 
 These, and several little poems of Whitaker, 
 Weston, Drewe, Giffard, &c. &c. were laid aside, 
 in reserve for a third volume. That volume, if 
 my friend Sir Hardinge Giffard furnish me with 
 some additional poems, may still be printed. His 
 poetry would truly enrich the collection. 
 
 All for the Best; a Tale. 
 
 Two friends by chance together met. 
 
 Who long had liv'd, and far asunder ; 
 And while they took a morning's whet. 
 
 They told such news as raised their wonder. 
 But soon from politics and powers majestic. 
 Their converse dropt, and turn'd on themes domestic. 
 
 Says Hodge, ' how fares it with you, friend ? 
 
 I hope as how you're in a state of thriving.' — 
 ' Why since we parted, I've had much to spend. 
 
 And that I got without much care by wiving.' — 
 ' Ah ! that looks well.' — ' Nay not so good : 
 
 The wife I wedded was a cursed scold.' —
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 243 
 
 * That truly might all other joys exclude.' — 
 
 ' Not so— for she was worth her weight in gold.' — 
 ' Well, there indeed, you had your consolation ; 
 For wealth will doubtless heal the worst vexation.' 
 ' Would that it had so happened ; but, alas ! 
 Fate otherwise decreed. It came to pass, 
 That with her cash I bought a numerous flock ! 
 Then farmer turned, I ranged my fertile plains. 
 And, buoyed with hope, I counted boundless gains ; 
 The murrain came, and perished all my stock.' — 
 
 * Good lack, good lack ! nay that indeed's distressing.' — 
 ' Nay not so bad ! in every ill's a blessing. 
 
 You little think it j yet your wonder '11 cease. 
 When I inform you, from the woolly fleece 
 I even had a full redressing.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! well that was lucky ! Fortune, sure, 
 Hath now been kind, and made your state secure,' 
 
 ' Ah no ! one night, one fatal night. 
 My sorrows reach'd their utmost height ; 
 Ere from the market I could home return. 
 My goods, my houses and my cattle burn.' 
 
 ' Alas, my friend ! the Fates here spun thy threadful I 
 Sure, never yet was heard a case so dreadful.' — 
 
 * Why so at first 'twould seem j but yet, believe me. 
 Kind fortune now did most of all relieve me ; 
 What ! can't you guess ? why, odds my life ! 
 With house and goods and cattle, burnt — my wife.' 
 
 Epigram. 
 
 To my Lord, exclaims Roscius, whilst sipping his glass, 
 
 * No Claret did ever your lordship's surpass.' — 
 
 * Eh, Garrick ! 'tis true ; and I speak within bounds. 
 When I say 'twas a gift for a couple of hounds ! ' — 
 
 ' Ah ! could I, my lord, such a kennel but keep. 
 Then my Claret I'd quaff, as your lordship — dog-cheap.' 
 
 R 2
 
 244 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 On Sir Nicholas Bacon passing Sentence of Death on a Male- 
 factor of the name of Hog. 
 
 On a Circuit Sir Nicholas held in the West, 
 
 For mercy a culprit his worship addrest : 
 
 ' Have pity, your honour, for God's sake,' he cried : 
 
 Yet still it avail'd not : his suit was denied. 
 
 * And shall then your kinsman be hang:'d as a dog ? 
 
 Oh spare me, since Bacon's related to Hog!' 
 
 ' In that,' says his lordship, * you're sadly mistaken. 
 
 For till Hog shall be hang'd, it can never be Bacon.' 
 
 Dr. WoLCOT to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, Plymouth, June 23, 1790. 
 
 I received your letter in London, the very day 
 I left that place, so that I had not time to reply to 
 it. At Exeter it totally escaped my memory. As 
 I do not perfectly comprehend the scheme, I beg 
 to leave it till we meet, which I hope may be in a 
 few weeks. It is your fault that we did not renew 
 our acquaintance, as you were at Exeter several 
 times during my stay there. Had I been sure of 
 seeing you at your own house (by the bye ten 
 miles off, and a great uncertainty), I should have 
 waived all ceremony, to have talked over the days 
 of old. How goes on your History? Such a pub- 
 lication is much wanted. Pray do you touch the 
 mineraloglcal part? If I do not mistake, you will 
 find the work swell as you proceed ; crescif eundo 
 is not inapplicable. 
 
 I am. Sir, your humble servant, 
 
 J. WoLCOT.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 245 
 
 When Wolcot returned to Exeter, the " scheme 
 which he did not comprehend," was explained to 
 him by Dr. Downman and myself. But, he said 
 (I believe justly enough) that a " coalition of 
 poets" was only a " competition." — " invidious at 
 best, and terminating often in unpleasant conse- 
 quences," and therefore " begged leave to decline 
 the honour of becoming a member of our Helico- 
 nian fraternity." Whilst at Exeter, he employed 
 Trewman in preparing for the public some of his 
 Pindaric manufacture ; and the following was part 
 of a proof sheet submitted to his correction. I 
 looked over it, and told him " it was indeed formed 
 of the coarsest rags." He said that I was right, 
 and that " I might take it, if I pleased.'* It was 
 never printed. 
 
 Reader, one moment look me in the face ; 
 A poet not quite destitute of grace ; 
 And answer one not bred in Flatt'ry's school — 
 Art thouj or art thou not, a fool ? 
 
 Pinning thy faith on Grandeur's sleeve. 
 Say, dost thou from thy conscience, man, believe. 
 That monarchs never can be weak or mean ; 
 And that a monarch's wife, yclept a queen. 
 May not, (and why not r) be a downright slop, 
 Form'd of the coarsest rags of Nature's shop ? 
 
 I read the answer in thy visage " No." 
 
 And can it be ? and is it so ? 
 
 Put down my book — 
 Don't give it one contaminating look : 
 I stare on thee with pity — nay with pain — 
 Kearsley shall toss thy money back again. 
 Get thy crown shav'd, poor wretch — I wish thee well — 
 And hear me — Bedlam has a vacant cell.
 
 24S TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Such were the stanzas that I wrote of yore. 
 When member of the Opposition-clan : 
 
 But now I curse those tenets o'er and o'er — 
 A convert quite — a virtuous, alter'd man. 
 
 Than Hve in one same dwelling with a Whig, 
 
 I'd sooner take up lodgings with a pig ! 
 
 Mr. Whitaker to R. P. 
 Dear Sir, r. l. May 29, 1790. 
 
 Your first step towards acquiring a knowledge 
 of Roman-Britain, is to make yourself well ac- 
 quainted with Richard. This alone will make 
 you " wiser than the aged." And I assure you 
 there is a mine of valuable ore in him. I found 
 the treasure, like the treasures of the ancient 
 Gauls, all open to every hand, yet all untouched. 
 I seized the spoils without delay and without sa- 
 crilege. And, on the strength of them, 1 set up 
 for myself. The title of the book is, " Ricardi 
 Cerinensis Commentariolum," printed at Copen- 
 hagen in 1757, together with Gil das and Hennius, 
 and selling at times in London for five or six shil- 
 lings. I have been intending these fourteen years 
 to reprint it. I wish you was nearer to me, and I 
 would lend it to you. 
 
 I have at length induced " my good neighbour," 
 
 as you very justly call him, Mr. to apply his 
 
 lively and brilliant talents to something beyond 
 the entertainment of an hour. He has written a 
 pamphlet, and has sent it up to London. It is to
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 247 
 
 be anonymous, and I am not at liberty to announce 
 its title J but you will be pleased when you know 
 it. 
 
 I have lately been revising your version of your 
 Hymn of Orpheus. I had been struck with it 
 when I read it as poetry. Mr. Trist recalled it to 
 my memory, when I was reading the original, as 
 theology. It is so fine, that you suppose it derived 
 from the Scriptures. But it is finer, in my opinion, 
 in its own real condition, as not derived from the 
 Scriptures, which were then in an unknown lan- 
 guage ; but as derived from that great source of 
 Religion to all mankind, without the Patriarchal 
 or Jewish pale, the first unwritten Revelations *. 
 The hymn is all evidently, I think, to the great 
 Redeemer who had been promised to all ages. 
 And it is a glorious proof of the Heathen belief 
 in the Divinity of that Redeemer. I shall pub- 
 lish a translation of it, but literal, and in blank 
 verse. Yours will shine at my expence in splen- 
 dour of poetry ; but mine will beat yours in ac- 
 curacy and fidelity. 
 
 Yours, &c. J. W. 
 
 * From the contact of Wolcot and Whitaker in their lettei-s, 
 I am reminded of their meeting at Ruan, more than once. At 
 first they were mutually surprised and delighted with each other. 
 " Who can say," observed Wolcot to me, " that W, is a zealot ? " 
 " Who can say," cried Whitaker, " that W. is a Deist ?" They 
 had ventured to discourse on Revelation. Whitaker had de- 
 scribed the beauties of Christianity, and Wolcot had admired 
 them.
 
 248 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Mr. Whitaker to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, August i9, 1790, 
 
 I was exceedingly hurt at the receipt of your 
 last favour, to find you had been so near to me, 
 and I had not seen you. I should have been very 
 glad to have talked over the subject of our letters, 
 personally with you under this roof; and I can 
 only regret my loss, in your departure without it. 
 But I catch at the promise which you make me, 
 though you say not when, of coming with Mrs. P. 
 to see us ; and let me hope it will not be long be- 
 fore you come. 
 
 With regard to your noticed plan, of a collection 
 of Fugitive Poetry for Devonshire * and Corn- 
 wall, I am quite surprised at your calling on the 
 heavy historian of Manchester for effusions of poe- 
 try. His taste lay, as his work shows, in quite 
 another hemisphere ; and not a ray from the 
 Muse's sun could penetrate to him, through the 
 thick cloud of historical disquisition in which he 
 had wrapped himself round. I have, however, a 
 few morsels of poetry by me, composed by a friend 
 of his, and which I am at liberty to publish. 
 These I shall be ready to communicate, if I can 
 find a moment of leisure for the revisal of them, 
 if I shall find any worthy of transcription, and 
 
 * I had the honour of introducing some of Mr. Whitaker's 
 poetry in the " Cornwall and Devon Poets." Some pieces, never 
 before printed, are given at the end of this letter.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 249 
 
 if I can procure time for transcribing. I shall 
 be at liberty, I suppose, in a month more ; and 
 you shall hear then from me on the subject. 
 
 Mr. Thomas *, the vicar of St. Merin, near 
 Padstow, was with me a day or two after I received 
 your letter. I therefore communicated the plan 
 of a collection to him. I considered him as a very 
 likely contributor ; and I knew that, as such, he 
 would be a very useful one. He is an excellent 
 poet. You know well his " Country Curate," I 
 presume. It is a poem full of spirit and sense ; 
 and he is a sound scholar, a lively converser, and 
 a man of elegant manners. I am very intimate 
 with him, and am using my influence to make him 
 sit down in studiousness : this alone is wanting to < 
 render him a bright and substantial scholar. And 
 he has promised me to revise a poem which I have 
 seen, and to throw it into the Bath treasury. But, 
 like me, I believe he wants leisure, though from 
 different causes ; I from overmuch business, he 
 from overmuch company. He is now going, or 
 gone, I fear, to meet the Marquiss of Bath and 
 Lord Weymouth in Herefordshire, on a shooting 
 party, if he is, his poetry will vanish with his 
 shot, and be left with the partridges in Hereford- 
 shire. 
 
 I am much flattered by your and Dr. Down- 
 man's praises of my remarks upon my old friend 
 Gibbon, in the English Review. I originally 
 intended to have put my name to the conclud- 
 
 * The late Archdeacon Thomas.
 
 24>0 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ing part of them. But a project which Lord 
 Lansdown suggested to me, of republishing the 
 remarks in a pamphlet prevented this, and I have 
 never been able to find time for revising, in order 
 to execute the other. What I received for the 
 remarks from the proprietor of the Review was so 
 much as induced me to think of purchasing a 
 piece of plate with it. I dwelt long enough upon 
 the idea to determine upon a cup, and to medi- 
 tate this inscription for it. 
 
 This vase I owe to Gibbon's genius bold j 
 Extracted silver from his spurious gold *. 
 
 * Whitaker and Gibbon were once well acquainted. " Here 
 is a letter," said W. to me, " which I do not value. Take it if 
 you like," 
 
 E. Gibbon to J. Whitaker. 
 Dear Sir, Bentinck -street, Oct. 16', 1775- 
 
 Though the hurry of a thousand avocations will not allow me 
 to make you a very long epistolatory visit, they shall not prevent 
 me from making a short enquiry into the present state of your 
 health, your business, and your intentions, with regard to Lon- 
 don, for the ensuing Winter. 
 
 For my own part, about February next, I intend to oppress 
 the Public with a quarto of about five or six hundred pages, and 
 am only concerned that the happy choice of the subject will 
 leave no excuse for the feebleness of the execution. I do not 
 say this from any false modesty, but from a real consciousness 
 that I am below my own ideas of historical merit. In a few 
 days our political campaign will open, and we shall find our- 
 selves engaged in carrying on the most serious business, perhaps, 
 that the Empire has ever known. A dark cloud still hangs over 
 it, and though it may be necessary to proceed, the contest will 
 be difficult, the event doubtful, and the consequence destruction. 
 
 Your 
 
 I
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 251 
 
 And then I abandoned the project, and bought 
 books with the money. 
 
 This, however, with the eighth volume of the 
 Archseologia, is all that ever I received. I have 
 not leisure enough from my own works to review 
 the works of others. I returned, some months 
 ago, several volumes that had been sent me for 
 reviewing ; and I have now had two quartos by 
 me these eight or nine weeks, waiting for my pe- 
 rusal. But I shall not be able to look at them 
 till I have sent off my " Origin of Arianism" to 
 the press. This will plead my excuse sufficiently 
 with you for declining to review your Discourses, 
 and your Engish Orator. 
 
 I am very much obliged to you, however, for 
 the present of your Orator, and your discourses. 
 I had read both with great pleasure, only your 
 Discourses appeared to me to want what I should 
 never expect to be wanting in a poet, a little more 
 
 Your municipal glory is however secure, and Mancunium, in 
 sounding the alarm, has displayed the zeal which generally suc- 
 ceeds a sincere and recent conversion. With regard to your old 
 friend Ossian, the dogmatic language of Johnson, and the acqui- 
 escence or indifference of the Scotch, particularly of Macpher- 
 son, seem to have given the bard a dangerous, if not a mortal 
 wound. It appears at least to be the prevailing opinion, that 
 truth and falsehood, the Highland ballads, and the fancy of the 
 translator are blended together in such a manner, that unless he 
 himself should condescend to give the clue, there is no power of 
 criticism capable of untwisting them. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, your faithful and obedient servant, 
 
 E. Gibbon.
 
 ^2 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 of the affectionate. Popular addresses should al- 
 ways be directed, at the close, to the most active 
 part of us all, our passions. 
 
 I shall be very glad to see your delineations of 
 Roman and British Monuments in Devonshire. 
 I will then give you my full sentiments upon 
 them ; and I remain, with Mrs. W.'s compliments 
 and mine to Mrs. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, yours^ very faithfully, 
 
 J. Whitaker. 
 
 The Major Drewe, whom you mention, was of 
 our college, I apprehend, and the younger brother. 
 
 The following pieces are the production of Mr. 
 Whitaker, which were adverted to in the early 
 part of the preceding letter, p. 248. 
 
 An Inscription 
 for an Hermitage, at in Wales. 
 
 I. 
 
 Avaunt, ye light fantastick train. 
 Ye daugliters of the trifling vain. 
 That from the boolc of knowledge fair. 
 Ne'er caught a bright enlivening air ; 
 Whose only aim, whose only power, 
 Is gaily murdering an hour. 
 Avaunt, nor to this cell intrude j 
 This is a studious solitude. 
 
 II. 
 
 Avaunt, ye souls of brighter fire. 
 Ye sisters of the reading quire.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. S53 
 
 But from your reading still untaught 
 To give your talk a single thought ; 
 The niere tale tellers of the age. 
 The very parrots of a page ; 
 Avaunt, nor to this cell intrude : 
 This is a thoughtful solitude, 
 
 III. 
 
 Avaunt too, all ye female route, 
 
 Who while ye've read, who while ye've thought. 
 
 Still to this wretched globe confined, 
 
 Raise not to Heaven the kindling mind. 
 
 But let your lettered bosoms share 
 
 Each vulgar joy, each vulgar care; 
 
 Avaunt, nor to this cell intrude : 
 
 This is a serious solitude. 
 
 Ascension-Day. 
 Jn Ode. 
 
 I. 
 
 When now the deed magnificent was done. 
 That first withdrew him from the blest abode ; 
 
 And all redemptions bloody prize was won 
 By the grave opening to the rising God : 
 
 II. 
 
 Then from his friends returning to his skies. 
 
 The world's great Saviour mounted in their sight ; 
 
 His parting course they mark with aching eyes ; 
 And see him lessening into light. 
 
 III. 
 A cloud, low stooping from its airy base. 
 
 Opes wide his bosom to transmit him on. 
 Snatched from their view, and hastening to his place. 
 
 On Nature's second and collateral throne.
 
 2I&4I TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 rv. 
 
 Yet still amazement, grief, and joy, unite 
 To keep their eyes fast riveted above. 
 
 To paint him still just melting from their sight. 
 And casting down his last kind looks of love ; 
 
 When, lo ! two spirits from the numerous band. 
 That waited on him all by them unseen. 
 
 Quick on the wing return at his command, 
 And call their senses back to earth again. 
 
 vr. 
 
 *• Why does that cloud detain your eager gaze ? 
 
 That track of white just mingling with the blue ! 
 Your Lord long since has past yon vapoury maze. 
 
 And now, I ween, has Heaven's broad gates in view. 
 
 vn. 
 
 " There shall your nature in his Godhead shrined. 
 Sit on the throne on which he sat before ; 
 
 And all the Hierarchy of Heaven combined. 
 The Deified humanity adore j 
 
 vni. 
 
 " Till that dread hour, when once more he will come. 
 Just as ye 've seen him rising to the clouds. 
 
 Instant to seal creation's final doom. 
 And fetch his followers to his own abodes." 
 
 A Poetical Journey 
 from Manchester to Derby, in November 1763, addressed to a lady. 
 
 When that sad eve I breathed ray last adieu. 
 
 And the door closing, snatched you from niy view }
 
 CORRESPONDENGE. 255 
 
 Plunged in the depth of silence and of shade *, 
 
 The streets I traverse, and retire to bed. 
 
 But long in vain ; the shrill-voiced clock below. 
 
 Long finds me sleepless as the quarters go. 
 
 High round my limbs, no feathery softness swelled. 
 
 But the hard mattress spread a level field ; 
 
 Not half asleep, the rousing call I hear, 
 
 And to the chamber of the coach repair. 
 
 Now o'er the town soft shines the lunar light. 
 And tips with silver every building's height ; 
 Now locked in sleep each son of Commerce lies. 
 And dreams of Touchet and of bankruptcies ; 
 While o'er the stones the coach its burden bears. 
 Of men and woodcocks, of a belle and hares. 
 
 First of the four, a lady takes her place ; 
 A taste for books informed a handsome face : 
 Blue round her neck a tippet twined its down. 
 Blue round her hands a muff of feathers shone. 
 Full in her front appeared a Cambridge man j 
 The female finished what St. John's began : 
 He the fond title of her husband chose. 
 And a large plaister bridged his pimply nose. 
 Close by her side your reverend Damon sat. 
 In his bob grizzle and his beaver hat. 
 
 Young L r last, on Hodson's f generous port. 
 
 Resolved with A and I B to sport j 
 
 But fate forbad ; the knight and squire we met. 
 And Jack returned the next day with regret. 
 
 " Jumping high o'er the rocks of the rough grounds. 
 Rattles the clattering coach, and the shockt axle bounds +." 
 Thus rough we roll, where Stockport hangs with pride. 
 Prone from its steeps o'er Mersey's infant tide ; 
 Thus rough we roll, where Disley's hills we scale. 
 Strain up the hill, and lumber to the vale. 
 
 * The hour being late, and the streets not then lighted with 
 lamps. 
 
 t The inn-keeper then at the Bath inn. X Pope-
 
 256 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Now a wide range of mountains meet the eyes, 
 " Alps peep o'er Alps, and hills on hills arise *." 
 *' Late o'er these heights when Lincoln sent her host-)',' 
 From their low levels of her own smooth coast ! 
 Wondering, the soldiers saw the hills appear. 
 And stopp'd and gazed, and half inclined to fear. 
 
 Mid this rude rumble oft in vain I try. 
 Propped on my stick, in sleep to close my eye. 
 Now then I talk j now letting down the glass. 
 Catch the wild landscapes living as they pass. 
 Art ne'er to littleness reformed the scene. 
 Still great in native majesty of mien. 
 
 Thus, as your squire in dreams of taste is lost. 
 The stopping coach invites to tea and toast j 
 Where Buxton, bearing o'er her dreary vale. 
 Calls from the hills her tinctured springs to heal ; 
 And the gay sick, beneath the wax-lights blaze. 
 Swim through the minuets ever graceful maze. 
 
 Next we roll heavy o'er the smoother roads, 
 And in four hours reach Ashburne's mean abodes. 
 Tired with the tedious stage we light in haste ; 
 And our keen stomachs hope a good repast. 
 Fools as we were, though innocent of blame. 
 
 The always had a starving fame. 
 
 And more, some hungry peasants from the fair 
 Had rudely ravished half our slender cheer. 
 Forced by our fate, on goose alone we dine, 
 But try in vain to drink the nauseous wine. 
 
 Fretted again we mount, again we roll ; 
 Down streams the rain, and night steals o'er the pole. 
 For the first hour we all in silence move, 
 To the I ain's rattling on the coach above. 
 But raised by chance, the conveise freely flows. 
 Now swells in poetry, now glides in prose j 
 And Shakespeare, Jonson, Otway, Steele and Young, 
 Rise to receive their sentence from our tongue. 
 
 * Pope. t The Militia.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 257 
 
 But critick converse can't for ever please ; 
 Tired, we dismiss them to enjoy our ease. 
 Shrunk in our corners, we attempt to doze. 
 And tvait impatient for the journey's close. 
 Till through each glass the lamps of Derby glare. 
 And the loud curfew tolls us to our fare. 
 
 Epigram. 
 
 When Deane, in gentle milkiness of mind 
 
 Framed an elysium for the brutal kind. 
 
 Had he but known how Catharine's cats are blest. 
 
 He ne'er had sought their paradise of rest ; 
 
 To other brutes his second scene had given. 
 
 But left these pusses to their present heaven *. 
 
 J. ACLAND to R. P. 
 
 Sir, Broadclist, Jan. 17, 1791. 
 
 When a man of your parts and abilities submits 
 to a laborious compilation of such uninteresting 
 matters and events as the History of a County 
 can afford, merely to gratify a little provincial 
 vanity, I think he is justly entitled to every assist- 
 ance that individuals can supply him with ; and I 
 should, therefore, most readily comply with your 
 requisitions, were I at all capable of furnishing 
 you with materials. But the truth is, that the sub- 
 ject of your enquiries is altogether out of my 
 
 * A Clergyman in the neighbourhood who had lately written 
 a treatise, to prove that there is another world for brutal as well 
 as for human souls. This Epigram succeeded in its intention- 
 The cats came no longer ujjon the table to dinner. 
 
 S
 
 258 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 walk. I concern myself as little about the memora- 
 bilia of Devon, as I do about those of the Cape 
 of Good Hope. Exclusive of your two personal 
 enquiries, (the ansvvering of which alone would 
 argue great vanity, and but little sense) there is 
 scarce a single article upon which I could give 
 you any information. I cannot so much as tell 
 you to what Saint the Church is dedicated, and 
 neither know nor care whether it was ever dedi- 
 cated at all. But though I cannot, Mr. Hugh 
 Acland of Exmouth can supply you with as much 
 information respecting families, changes of pro- 
 perty, &c. as most men. 
 
 AVishing you all possible success in your very 
 ungrateful undertaking, I am Sir, with great re- 
 spect, your humble servant, J. Acland. 
 
 R. P. to Benjamin Incledon, Esq. of Piltoti. 
 
 Sir, Kenton, near Exeter, Feb. 15, l/Ol- 
 
 In his Preface to the Memoirs of Great Britain 
 and Ireland, Sir John Dalrymple observes : 
 
 " There are some family papers in London of 
 great authority, which I wished much to have 
 seen : but it required a train of solicitation to get 
 access to them, to which no man of common pride 
 could submit." 
 
 Of the humiliating nature of such solicitatiou, 
 no author has more frequent experience than the 
 writer of a County History. Pressed by his
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. Q50 
 
 friends and by the public to make repeated appli- 
 cations for MSS. which possibly derive their con- 
 sequence from having been long deposited in the 
 dust ; though often repulsed, he is still compelled 
 to solicit, and in the very moments of disappoint- 
 ment from fruitless assiduity, is accused, perhaps, 
 of negligence ! 
 
 Of the propriety of the last observation as 
 addressed to yourself, you, Sir, are sufficiently 
 conscious. 
 
 You are reported to possess the pedigrees of 
 several families in this County. The representa- 
 tives, therefore, of some of these families wished 
 me to apply to you for genealogical assistance. I 
 lost no time in the application. My letter was 
 couched in respectful terms ; but it received no 
 answer. I addressed to you another^ with apolo- 
 gies for my intrusion — it shared the same fate as 
 the first. A third letter was alike unfortunate. 
 Permit me to add, that one of these letters con- 
 veyed to you the intelligence, that I had searched, 
 though fruitlessly, the Kenton Register for you, 
 according to the instructions I had received from 
 a common friend. 
 
 I am. Sir, your humble servant, R. P. 
 
 P. S. If you think my letters were improper, 
 produce them to the public. 
 
 The following Sonnet, written about this time, 
 was never published : 
 
 Though Acland, scowling midst his scatter'd plans. 
 May spots innumeious in my Book espy ; 
 
 s2
 
 260 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Though Incledon each fact severely scans. 
 
 In pedigrees, perhaps, more sage than I ; 
 Yet whilst a Downman wishes to peruse 
 
 (His mind the seat of candor !) all I write ; 
 Whilst YoNGE still prompts me to enlarge my views. 
 
 And bids me soar with no ignoble flight ; 
 Whilst Wh I TAKER approves my various scheme, 
 
 And wakes my ardor in each bold essay 3 
 With friendly light illumining the theme 
 
 Of Roman relics sunk in dim decay ; 
 Shall not the Spirit of Research proceed. 
 
 And, spurning Envy, grasp the historic meed ? 
 
 John Jones io R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, InnerTemple, March 22, 1791. 
 
 This afternoon I received your parcel, and have 
 only time enough, at this moment, barely to ac- 
 knowledge the receipt of it. I hope it will be in 
 my power to give you satisfaction with respect to 
 Domesday : — The Feodary, I must acknowledge, 
 bears a very formidable aspect; but everything 
 that lies in my power shall be done, both with 
 regard to this and the other MSS. I have hastily 
 turned over a few leaves of the heraldic or genea- 
 logical MS. and met with nothing of much im- 
 portance ; but these, you observe, are to be the 
 objects of future consideration. At present I pro- 
 pose to confine my attention wholly to Domesday, 
 and shall allot as great a portion of my time to 
 the investigation of it, as I can possibly afford. 
 Upon the Feodary, I have reason to believe, I shall
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 261 
 
 be obliged to offer you a few observations before 
 I encounter it : it is a most curious and valuable 
 document, and little inferior, in point of import- 
 ance, to Domesday itself*. 
 
 Dear Sir, your faithful humble servant, 
 
 John Jones. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Dear Sir, Temple, Nov. 19, 1791. 
 
 * # * 4(= # * * 
 
 With regard to this new plan of printing the 
 first volume in octavo, previous to its appearance 
 in folio, I have no doubt it is a very proper one, 
 and by which you are countenanced by a great 
 authority, Mr. Hume, who, I believe, printed the 
 Dynasty of the Stuart Family many years before 
 the publication of his History of England j but I 
 am inclined to think that your subscribers will 
 make objections to your printing the Appendix in. 
 the same form, as it would detach too much from 
 the work, and injure its uniformity ; especially as 
 it will be a most valuable and essential part of the 
 history. 
 
 I cannot yet determine, how far I may be able 
 to offer my assistance in correcting the press, if 
 you should come to a resolution of printing in 
 town, as 1 shall, very shortly, study under a special 
 
 * At Powderham Castle, Lord Loughborough amused him- 
 self for some days, in inspecting the Feodary ; and in a letter 
 of his lordship now before me, it is styled " a most valuable docu- 
 ment." I possess it entire in Jones's hand- writing.
 
 262 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 pleader, and I do not know any person upon whose 
 punctuality I may rely, in attending the examina- 
 tion of the sheets with me : but whatever lies in 
 my power to do, shall be done. T have already 
 taken some pains with your MS. and I have ran- 
 sacked our library for memoiials of the tenants in 
 capite at the head of Domesday, in which search 
 I have succeeded so well;, that I have filled up 
 eight folio pages ; yet there are many of them, of 
 whom I can discover nothing more than their 
 names as witnesses to some ancient charters in 
 the Monasticon. The account of them, that I 
 have drawn up, seems correct, and is tolerably 
 succinct, so that, I apprehend, you will not have 
 occasion to retrench any part of it. 
 
 In my journey from Exeter to Bath I had the 
 company of a very silent gentleman, whom I dis- 
 covered, after my arriv^al in town, to have been 
 Dr. Beddoes. I am really surprised at the pains 
 he took to conceal himself; for, observing an 
 Italian book in his hands (Strangers account of 
 some volcano in Italy), I asked him some questions 
 about it, to which he answered, that he knew 
 nothing of the subject, and that he carried the 
 book lor some friend of his. In the book were 
 some loose plates belonging to Sheldon's " Patella." 
 I spoke of Sheldon, but he made no answer. I 
 find since, that Sheldon gave him the book. At 
 CuUompton, I afterwards read some pages of this 
 book, and intimated that I had heard a Doctor 
 Beddoes, a naturalist, had been to explore Corn- 
 wall, but the Doctor was still silent, and, though
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 263 
 
 we were t^te a tSte for an hour before we arrived 
 at Bath, and though we passed the evening 
 together at Pickwick's, and slept in the same 
 room, yet I had not the least idea who he was till 
 I reached town. 
 
 With my respectful compliments to Mrs. P. I 
 remain, dear Sir, your obedient humble servant, 
 
 J. Jones. 
 
 J. C. to R. P. 
 
 My Dear Friend, David's Hill, 1791. 
 
 I hope you will not think me impertinent, as a 
 medler in matters which do not immediately con- 
 cern myself, if I cannot be wholly indifferent to 
 what may concern you ; for being upon all occa- 
 sions your very sincere well-wisher, and interested, 
 as such, for the success of the great work you 
 have in hand, in all its branches, I hold it a part 
 of my duty to communicate whatever may in any 
 degree affect that, unimportant as it would other- 
 wise be to me. After such a formal peroration, 
 perhaps you will be apt to stare, and ere you read 
 to the bottom of the page, exclaim great cry, hut 
 little ivool! when you find that the occasion of 
 my present scribbling is to caution you against 
 entering into any formal engagement with the 
 Doctor and Professor, who addressed you from 
 the London or Oxford Inn (I forget which) when 
 I was with you, at least till you know something 
 more of him than either of us did at that time.
 
 264 "^ADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 I have had some conversation to-day M^ith a gen- 
 tleman of his University, on his road thither, 
 touching the said professor; from which I learn 
 that he does not pass for any great things there, 
 where he is best known. And since his journey into 
 Cornwall was visibly as much in search of gold 
 as any other baser metals, by his making a sort of 
 trading voyage of it, doling out prescriptions for 
 guineas, professionally, and professedly, and there- 
 fore, no doubt, as a true Professor; I cannot but in- 
 fer from hence (I hope not uncandidly) that one of 
 his objects is, iiummum in locidos dimittere, S^c. 
 and, therefore, not to be engaged with at a ven- 
 ture, or without proper caution. This hint I could 
 not but give you with the first opportunity. You'll 
 esteem it only as a hint, (for it aims at nothing 
 more than a hint) which you will make your own 
 use of, by adopting it, or disregarding it, as seems 
 best to you. At any rate it can do you no harm ; 
 at least it is well meant. Si quid 7iovisti rectius, 
 &c. ; don't laugh at me for a vain display of lam- 
 ing by my tritical quotations, but believe me 
 much yours. J. C. 
 
 Love to Mrs. P. &c. I hope you received my 
 packet of trifles. The Doctor has been printing 
 
 and publishing something about the C 
 
 I , so that you may probably be funiish'd 
 
 easily with a specimen of his style, and form your 
 judgment. I have not seen it. I only know 
 such a thing exists, and, I suppose may be had 
 by proper inquiry*. 
 
 * Another specimen of Mr. CoUins's easy epistolary style.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. ^^' 9.0)5 
 
 J. C. to R. P. 
 My Dear Sir, Monday, 5 December, 1791. 
 
 As you have made up your mind respecting the 
 Professor whom you write of, and we have but 
 one opinion upon the subject, I did not trouble 
 you with a reply to your letter of Thursday 
 se'nnight. But this day I received a paper from 
 Mr. Hardinge, which, to use his words, '^ relates to 
 Lord Camden's Uncle, Wyatt Pratt, half brother 
 to the Chief Justice". He adds, " keep it by you 
 carefully, and I will send you the other document 
 very soon. But pray remind me of them if I 
 forget." I will obey my correspondent's injunc- 
 tions : so there will be no occasion I hope, for your 
 spurring him. I trespass no farther upon your 
 time, which I know to be precious, whether it 
 admits of your stirring out, as to day, or not, 
 than merely to assure you, with love to Mrs. P. 
 and the babes, of my sincere regard. * 
 
 Your affectionate, J. Collins. 
 
 C. TOOGOOD to R. P. 
 
 My Dear Sm, AshiU, June 14, 1791. 
 
 An unexpected opportunity of sending a parcel 
 to Exeter, has induced me to pack up your MSS, 
 
 * If evidence were wanting, I think these letters will suffici- 
 ently prove my historical diligence. Day and night was I labour- 
 ing in an ungrateful vineyard ! !
 
 ^66 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 which I return with many thanks. I am sorry 
 the time would not allow me to examine my col- 
 lection, for some others to accompany them : but 
 as I have lately lent a friend some of the most 
 legible, I fear I should not have found any fit for 
 your use. 
 
 I have not seen any good sermons lately. A 
 friend lent me the third volume of Blair ; from 
 which I have extracted two or three. I cannot 
 think that he improves in composition. Lloyd's 
 of Westminster, the father of Robert Lloyd, were 
 sent to me with high commendations. I found 
 them wretched stuff. A Dr. Hood, of Newcastle, 
 has called upon me this week, with another volume, 
 into which I have peeped ; and I believe the doc- 
 tor will step into my pulpit once or twice. * 
 
 I hope you go on swimmingly w^ith your his- 
 tory. Can you say with alacrity, " Nee me labor 
 iste gravabit?" — say it; for you see, by the Gen- 
 tleman's Magazine, what rewards await you. J 
 beg my compliments, with Mrs. T. to Mrs. Pol- 
 whele, and I am, "learned Pausanias," your sin- 
 cere friend, C. Toogood. 
 
 Rev. John Hayter fo R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, Chagfoid, September S, 1791. 
 
 I am very sorry that your state of health should 
 account for my disappointm.ent in not seeing you 
 
 * Even of Dr. Knox's collection of sermons, Mr. Toogood 
 entertained a very low opinion.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 267 
 
 at Chagford, agreeably to your obliging promise. 
 I hope neither indisposition nor any thing else will 
 prevent you favouring me with your company 
 soon. The compliment you pay me in your com- 
 mendations of my endecasyllables to Dr. Down- 
 man is very flattering, and much valued by me, as 
 yours. I should be very proud of being admitted 
 into the '* Damnoniensis Apollo" in Latin, but as 
 it would be improper to place any school or col- 
 lege exercise there, I am afraid I have none to 
 present for insertion ; however that point might 
 more easily be settled in the course of conversa- 
 tion. On the other side are answers to your 
 queries ; I wisli they may be thought satisfactory. 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 AVith respect, your very faithful humble servant, 
 
 John Hayter. * 
 
 J. Randolph to R. P. 
 
 Sir, Christ Church, March 13, 1791. 
 
 The paragrapli which you sent me from the 
 newspaper, is so far true as that money has been 
 sent for the purpose there specified, and accepted 
 by the Vice-Chancellor, w4io has accordingly 
 given out the thesis for the prize, but the follow- 
 ing extract from his notice will shew you that you 
 are not yourself capable of being a candidate. 
 
 * Hayter, 1 am proud to say, was soon after one of my firmest 
 literary friends.
 
 268 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 "The subject is intended for those gentlemen 
 of the University who have completed four years, 
 and not exceeded seven, from their matricula- 
 tion." 
 
 You must be much above the standing requir- 
 ed. For the purpose of degrees any name, after 
 it has been a statutable time on the books, may be 
 taken out and replaced, when the party means to 
 proceed. 
 
 I wish you success in the arduous task you have 
 undertaken. Sir G. Yonge seems far gone in the 
 regions of romance : I cannot call jCuthite and 
 Baalim theories by any other name. I should 
 think that of authentic history alone would fur- 
 nish you with ample materials for your work. 
 
 I remain, our most yobedient servant, 
 
 John Randolph. 
 
 Sir G. Yonge to R. P. 
 
 Sir, Stratford Place, March 15, I79I. 
 
 I very much like your poetical ideas, and think 
 they will do for Oxford very well. 
 
 The ode might be spoken by a bard from the 
 top of the Promontory of Hercules. 
 
 I hope you have received all my packets, and 
 am with great regard. 
 
 Sir, your most obedient servant, 
 
 G. YoNGE.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 269 
 
 J. Whitaker to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, May 28, 1791. 
 
 Your preliminary observations I have read with- 
 great pleasure. Your replies to Borlase, in my 
 opinion, are quite satisfactory ; and you came so 
 near to what I consider as the secret truth of his- 
 tory, that I was half surprised at your ingenuity, 
 and half sorry for your anticipation of me. 
 
 The four volumes of Hals are come safe. What 
 I have seen of his printed parts, has given me 
 rather a worse impression concerning him, than 
 even you have expressed. As to any explanation 
 that you think I can give of points in Worcester's 
 Itinerary, I beg you will command me freely. 
 
 Dear Sir, your obedient friend and servant, 
 
 J. Whitaker. 
 
 W. Tasker to R. P. 
 Rev Sir, Exmouth, Friday 19 February, 1791. 
 
 I last Sunday at Iddisleigh (from which I had 
 been absent some months) received an official let- 
 ter from you, that had been written a long time 
 ago. If there is any information required con- 
 cerning that parish, which has not been already 
 given, it shall be communicated at a future period. 
 You are now addressed upon another occasion. I 
 hear that you superintend a publication, printed 
 by Cruttwell of Bath, professing to give a
 
 €70 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 collection of Devon and Cornwall poetry. I am 
 now resident at Exmouth, and should be happy if 
 your time would permit you, to honour me with 
 any particulars of your plan ; and which I 
 should be proud to forward to the utmost extent 
 of my slender abilities. I have by me several lit- 
 tle pieces, never yet published, that originated 
 from Bath and Bristol ; and, therefore, if worthy 
 of insertion, might claim a local propriety in a 
 Bath publication. The little Bagatelle intro- 
 duced below is a recent production, and ha-s 
 never yet appeared in print. Ever so short an 
 acknowledgment of the receipt of this letter will 
 very much oblige, 
 
 Your devoted humble servant, W. Tasker. 
 
 Lines addressed to Barnpfylde Esq. of Hestercombe in 
 
 the county of Somerset, on his arrival at Bath last spring, 
 to drink the waters for the recovery of his health. 
 Genius of Bladud's healthful spring ! 
 Descend with healing on thy wing ; 
 In aid of med'cine's feeble art 
 Thy wondrous energy impart. 
 As erst Judaea's angel stood. 
 And mov'd Bethesda's sacred flood. 
 So thou with vernal suns conspire 
 To add new force to mineral tire : 
 New virtue from the mineral ore 
 Extract, and Bampfylde's health restore. 
 The stomach's genial warmth excite. 
 And wake the nerves to appetite : 
 Bid racking Gout and languor fly. 
 With lustre re-illumine his eye j 
 Bid shivering Palsy distant stand. 
 And strength conflrai the painter's hand.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 271, 
 
 Ye streams of Bladud, as ye rise 
 
 In exhalations to the skies^ 
 
 Your breath of incense kindly bear. 
 
 For Bampfylde's health present the prayer. 
 And may the prayer (dispers'd by no rude wind) 
 Before th' Almighty Throne acceptance find. 
 And long his life preserve in favour of mankind. 
 
 R. Hole to R. P. 
 Dear Polwhele, 1791. 
 
 Yesterday E told me that the publication 
 
 drew to a conclusion, and shewed me a sonnet he 
 intended to send this evening ; and said that 
 some lesser poems were wanting, if I understand 
 him right, to make up the quantum. Last night 
 gave birth to the following lines, the only ones I 
 have written since " Good King Arthur's golden 
 days," a sonnet to Downman excepted. 
 
 I think no title is necessary to be prefixed ; 
 possibly it might not be an improper finale to the 
 publication. Yours very sincerely, 
 
 R. Hole. 
 
 Ah, wherefore urge my weary limbs to climb 
 
 Again with fruitless toil th' Aonian mount ? 
 
 Why bid nie quaff Castalia's nectar'd fount. 
 And stretch'd in rapture on the brow sublime, 
 
 Mark the fair forms that mid Parnassus stray. 
 Gliding thro' sunny glade, or shadowy bower. 
 Like orient beams that gild the vernal shower. 
 
 And trace each image in the living lay ?
 
 272 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 How vain th' attempt when envy mines the way, * 
 And Power beholds with eyes that glance disdain ! 
 
 Whose aspect, colder than the icy ray 
 Of the pale star that chills the polar sty, 
 
 Withers the bay to Phoebus dear in vain. 
 That else would Time and Jove's red bolt defy. 
 
 R. S. DoNKiN to R. p. 
 
 Dear Sir, Bath, 13 November, 1791. 
 
 I have the pleasure to inform you, at the desire 
 of my friend Mrs. Hope, the inconsolable widow 
 for whom you were so kind as to write the follow- 
 ing lines, that with your permission, they are to be 
 placed on a monument in Westminster Abbey, now 
 executing by Bacon, the sculptor ; but the Dean 
 and Chapter objecting to the length of the whole 
 (vi% prose and verse), Mr. Bacon intimates, that 
 he believes he must not proceed farther than to 
 the end of the sixteenth line, viz. "with pilgrim 
 feet." Mrs. Hope admires so much the force of 
 your lines, that she and I talked with the sculptor 
 in London (whither we went on purpose) an en- 
 tire morning, to have the whole of them engraved, 
 but he cannot exceed the quantity I have men- 
 tioned ; and she apprehending so sudden a break 
 off may be improper, is the reason of my giving 
 
 * And Malice lends to Ignorance the sneer ! 
 While power, with aspect colder than the ray 
 Shot from the orb that decks the polar sky. 
 Withers the sacred leaf to Phoebus dear, 
 
 That else, &c.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. ^J3 
 
 you this trouble, to beg your revision of the whole 
 and opinion how it will read by suppressing the 
 remaining lines. Indeed to have had it all in- 
 sertedj she would have sacrificed all the prose, 
 had it not been written by a very near connection 
 of her late husband, whom she wishes not to offend. 
 
 My family join me in warmest regards to yours ; 
 and should pleasure or business lead you this way, 
 be assured of an hearty welcome to a joint and a 
 bottle, in accepting of which, without ceremony, 
 you'll confer an agreeable favour on us all. 
 
 I remain, very sincerely yours, R. Donkin. 
 
 P. S. My house is at East Hayes, near the turn- 
 pike going to London. If you are pleased to make 
 any alterations in the prose or the verse, just tear 
 off the half sheet, and inclose it to me, as Mr. Ba- 
 con intends finishing it by February. We give 50 
 guineas to the Dean and Chapter for five feet broad, 
 exactly between the monuments of Sir Eyre Coote 
 and Jonas Hanway, and 200 more to the Sculptor. 
 
 To the Memory of 
 
 Brigadiek-General Hope, 
 
 Lieutenant-governor of the Province of (Quebec, 
 
 where he died in 17S9, aged 43. 
 
 To those who knew him 
 
 his name alone conveys the idea 
 
 of all that Is amiable 
 
 in the human character. 
 
 Distinguished by splendor of family, 
 
 a cultivated taste for letters, 
 
 And superior elegance of manners : 
 
 as a public character, 
 
 disinterested, and ever actuated 
 
 by an unshaken regard to principle} 
 
 T
 
 274. TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 the patron of the oppressed, 
 
 the benefactor of the indigent : 
 
 in the camp renowned 
 
 for intrepid courage 
 
 tempered by unbounded humanity. 
 
 Called into the civil service 
 
 of his country, 
 
 he manifested the warmest zeal 
 
 for its interest, 
 
 and displayed such abilities and integrity, 
 
 as were the pride and blessing 
 
 of the people he governed. 
 
 Thee, Hope, so early sunk to rest. 
 Thy Country's warmest wishes blest ; 
 Yet where thy relics are inurn'd. 
 Though by thy grateful Albion raourn'd, 
 'Tis thine a richer sigh to boast 
 From those who knew thee, — lov'd thee most ! 
 
 There shall the generous soldier pause. 
 To give thy worth the heart's applause ; 
 Thy milder virtues proud to own. 
 Though he rever'd thy Roman frown. 
 
 Oft the poor desolate shall bless 
 Thy shade, and feel each sorrow less. 
 As, sooth'd by thy memorial sweet. 
 He wanders there with pilgrim feet ! * 
 There shall the youth who shar'd with thee 
 The flowing hours of festal glee, 
 Mark thy pale urn with melting eye. 
 And bi'eathe a solitary sigh ! 
 
 And on that spot, when all is still. 
 Shall, prime in grief, the widow thrill — 
 With many a feeling too severe ! 
 Lo, her wan cheek — without a tear ! — 
 But far from where thy ashes sleep. 
 If fortune waft her on the deep, 
 
 * To this the Sculptor confines us.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 275 
 
 Thither her spirit shall repair, 
 And pour her sacred sorrows there ; 
 And, when the forms of anguish fade, 
 I'et hail, how fond, thy hovering shade, 
 And gaze the soften"d vision o'er. 
 Till Love and Fancy charm no more ! 
 
 John Giffard, Esq. to R. P. 
 
 Sir, Dublin, Feb. 2, 1792. 
 
 From Mr. Rolle, who does me the honour of 
 bis friendship, I learn that you have lately made 
 some inquiries from his steward, concerning my 
 family. Your reputation, Sir, as a man of letters 
 has reached even this part of the world, your 
 character as a gentleman has borne it company, 
 and, therefore, I do not hesitate to give you the 
 satisfaction you desire. 
 
 My father dying while I was at the nurse's 
 breast, it is impossible I should know much of him. 
 To complete the impossibility, I had not even the 
 melancholy pleasure of much oral information j for 
 my mother died while I was yet an infant. 
 
 My' father, John Giffard, w^as the eldest son of 
 Henry Giffard, and was born about the time Prince 
 wrote, consequently the annexed sketch completes 
 the pedigree. He was an attorney, and some- 
 time coroner of Devon. In 1742, or 43, he 
 came to Ireland to attend at the great Anglesea 
 trial, which took place in 1744 (see the printed 
 account of that trial). Here he settled, and 
 
 t2
 
 276 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 married the daughter of Arthur Murphy, Esq. 
 of Olardleighj in co: Wexford ; a gentleman 
 lineally descended from, and actually possessing 
 a fragment of the Royal Domain of Dermoid 
 Mac Murrough, tlie King of Leinster, who first 
 invited Henry the Second into Ireland, and with a 
 pedigree ten times as long as the Giffards (see 
 Keating's History) of Ireland, ending with Donald 
 who was the father of Arthur, who was my grand- 
 father. Of this marriage I was the only issue ; 
 and, as my father before his death had spent the 
 greatest part, nay almost the whole of his pro- 
 perty, I was brought up among my maternal rela- 
 tions, and when you learn that Arthur Murphy had 
 more than an hundred and fifty persons descended 
 from him, i. e. children, grand-children, great, and 
 great great grand-children, you will perceive that 
 the portion of his attention that fell to my share 
 could not be very great ; this was soon perceived 
 by my friend and relation Counsellor Ambrose 
 Harding, after whom my eldest son is named ; he 
 thereupon took me home, and became my guar- 
 dian and protector. He lived to see me married. 
 
 I shall not speak of each distressful stroke that 
 my youth sviffered. I thank God I have, I hope, 
 conquered them all, am the maker (under Provi- 
 dence) of my own fortune, which, though not 
 great, or to be named with the possessions of my 
 ancestors either Irish or English, either Leinster 
 or Devon, is yet competent, and acquired with 
 honourable reputation. 
 
 Early in life I married Sarah, the daughter of
 
 CORRESPONJJENCE. 277 
 
 William Morton, Esq. co. Wexford. With her I 
 have lived many years, and hope to live many 
 more, in perfect domestic happiness. We have had 
 a good many children, several of whom died 
 young, and v^^e have five living, which promise us 
 much comfort. My eldest son, Ambrose Harding 
 GifFard, is a young man of excellent disposition 
 and promising talents ; he is a barrister. My 
 second son, whom I intended for the army, lived 
 till near seventeen, but then he departed to the 
 place prepared for innocence and virtue ; he was 
 named John. My third son, William, I design 
 for the army also. For my fourth, Stanly Lees 
 GifFard, I expect a living in the Church ; and my 
 daughters, Harriet and Mary, I hope to marry to 
 gentlemen of loyalty and honour. 
 
 In addition to a small private fortune, I enjoy 
 under the government here a situation of emolu- 
 ment, and even trust and confidence, which some- 
 times encourages me to hope, that I may one day 
 re-purchase some of those many estates which my 
 forefathers sold in Devon ; for believe me, Sir, 
 speaking in the metaphor of my friend Goldsmith, 
 
 The hare pants to the place from whence at first it flew. 
 
 To shew you. Sir, the sentiments we cherish, I 
 have added a little poem of my son. The occasion 
 of it was this : in 1791 we had been in Devon ; we 
 visited the melancholy ruins of those mansions 
 formerly inhabited by our ancestors j we visited 
 their present habitations, their tombs in Chittle- 
 hampton and Parkham. In the November of the
 
 278 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 same year, he being at the Temple in London and 
 I here in Dublin, wrote in a gloomy moment those 
 verses in a letter to me. As poetry I do not rate 
 them high, but the sentiment and principle can 
 never be surpassed. 
 
 I have scarce room to ask pardon for this long 
 letter, but I beg you will accept of me as your 
 humble and faithful servant, 
 
 John Giffard. 
 
 P. S. I understand, Sir, that you have pub- 
 lished, or intend to publish, some poetical works of 
 Devonshire gentlemen. Now 'tis certain the young 
 gentleman, whose verses I have sent you, has not 
 the honour to be a Devonshire man born, but 
 springing from that country. If you think his pro- 
 ductions worthy a place, I can send you some very 
 beautiful Poems. 
 
 Veuses supposed to be written in a Wood near the Ruins of 
 Brightley. co. Devon, 
 
 If in the bosom of this devious wood 
 
 Far from the flight of man ye love to dwell. 
 
 Whence frighted Taw escapes with hurried flood. 
 While his wild waves with panting terror swell : 
 
 If in these awful shades in calm repose. 
 Forgetting mortal toils with mortal breath, 
 
 Where the brown oak around liis mantle throws. 
 Ye haunt your favourite woodlands ev'n in death : 
 
 Souls of my fathers ! guide my wandering feet 
 To that dark dell where sit your faded forms. 
 
 Where, far from strife, ye hold communion sweet. 
 And free from care deride the passing storms.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 279 
 
 I hear the hallowed sounds ! The yielding bough. 
 Obsequious, shews a passage through the grove ! 
 
 I feel my thrill'd heart beating high ; and now 
 They speak in strains of rapture and of love ! 
 
 " Welcome, thrice welcome to these sacred shades. 
 
 To fathers for their loyalty renowned. 
 Who know the bloom of virtue never fades ; 
 
 Who ne'er the stain of foul dishonour found !" 
 
 And now I see advance a manly shade. 
 
 Whose open features beam with stern delight. 
 
 His airy armour glitters thro' the glade. 
 
 And his plumed helmet sheds a gloomy night. 
 
 " My son," he cries, " I marked the rising sigh. 
 When thro' the tottering hall you took your way, 
 
 Whei'e Brightley's walls in dreary ruin lie. 
 And even our memory hurries to decay. 
 
 " I saw, with rapture saw, thy tearful eye. 
 
 The pious offering to a grandsire's grave. 
 Where decked with sculptured pomp in silence lie. 
 
 Your mothers virtuous, and your fathers brave, 
 
 " Though proud achievements shew our spotless birth. 
 
 Our loyalty a prouder boast shall prove ; 
 For while we trod in mortal form the earth, 
 
 Our King possess'd our lives, our swords, our love. 
 
 " And when Fanatic fury thro' the land 
 
 Raised her infernal head against the cro\vn, 
 
 1 saw a ruffian aim his murtherous hand — 
 This arm uplifted felled the traitor down. 
 
 " But ere my wearied limbs had sunk to rest, 
 1 saw my Monarch's son regain his throne j 
 
 The glorious vision calmed my troubled breast, 
 I sunk in death without a parting groan. 
 
 " For you, my son, attend to this command, 
 
 Defend your King, be Loyalty your pride j 
 And should contending factions tear the land. 
 
 Prove it most firmly when most firmly tried.
 
 280 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 G. B. to P. 
 My Dear Sir, Feb. 14, 1792. 
 
 The proposal which you mention of forming a 
 Society of friends to meet every third week at 
 the Globe, gives me real pleasure, and has, you 
 may be assured, my hearty concurrence. To 
 meet those whom I esteem and love, and to add 
 to their number those whose abilities and virtues 
 demand respect, has always been my wish and my 
 ambition in life. The only thing which I have to 
 object to on this occasion is, the alphabetical pre- 
 eminence to which I shall be, at our first meeting 
 exalted ; but as I find the letter of the law is to 
 be adhered to, it shall be my endeavour to con« 
 form to it, with as good a grace as I am able. 
 
 Since my friend Hale left this part of the coun- 
 try I have not seen the Gentleman's Magazine, 
 and, of consequence, have not as yet experienced 
 the uneasiness of reading in the Supplement the 
 impertinent comment on your Queries which you 
 allude to. If you will be so good as to furnish 
 me with that part of the Gentleman's Magazine 
 which contains the letter, I will attempt to answer 
 it in the best manner I am able. I have always 
 thought. 
 
 Qui non defendit, alio culpante. — 
 
 You know the rest. 
 
 Your faithful and affectionate friend, 
 
 G. B.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 281 
 
 J. W. to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, Feb. 7, 1792. 
 
 I have just received your favour, and reply to it 
 instantly. 
 
 I am sorry to hear from you, for I have never 
 heard of the fact before, that you have been wan- 
 tonly and malignantly attacked in the Supplement 
 to the Gentleman's Magazine. I feel for you. 
 Much depends in a work like yours upon the 
 reputation that you keep up in the county. You 
 have also a large portion of envy to encounter, 
 from the honour done you, in singling you out, so 
 young in years, and so much a stranger, for writing 
 the County History : every man has, who steps 
 out of his rank in society, and leaves his equals 
 and contemporaries behind him. I feel it even now 
 myself, at this advanced stage of my authorship, 
 
 #^ 4t -^ ^ •V' •j^ 
 
 "^ "Jr -Tx* 'Tv 'Jp ^ 
 
 There, probably, your antagonist is Mr. I , 
 
 who has been long attempting mischief against 
 you, w^as silenced by your bold attack in May last, 
 but has now begun to spit his venom against you 
 again. Whoever he is, I will grapple with him 
 for your sake, and am glad you have invited me to 
 do so. 
 
 I am just now in the right humour for panegy- 
 rizing you. I have been reviewing your Poems 
 and Discourses. I finished the review of the 
 latter only yesterday. When they will be pub- 
 lished I do not know. I am now publishing a 
 review of Archa^ologia, vol. IX. and of Bering-
 
 282 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ton's History of Henry the Second. I shall send, 
 when these are published completely, a review of 
 Lodge's Illustrations of British Biography, &c. in 
 3 vols, quarto ; and your works will come next, 
 I suppose, or perhaps with Lodge. I have writ- 
 ten so much more upon the Archagologia than the 
 Review can take, that I believe I shall print the 
 whole in a pamphlet without a name. 
 
 I am almost sorry to hear that our Poems are 
 ready for publication. I have been repeatedly 
 vexed with myself, that I did not withdraw my 
 share of them last visitation. I was inclined to 
 do so, but did not act decisively. To go in com- 
 pany with you as an Antiquary might not disgrace 
 me ; but as a Poet, you will be ashamed of your 
 partner. This, however, I say very unaffectedly, 
 and so leave the Peer and the Pedlar to move on 
 together. 
 
 In my Review of your Discourses and Poems 
 I have taken care to do the full duty of a friend, 
 and not, with extorted praises and cordial cen- 
 sures, stab the man that I was pretending to caress. 
 I have, however, used the prudent policy of blam- 
 ing you in some petty and incidental points. I 
 thus throw a slight shade over the glare of my 
 panegyrical colours, and conclude in a full radia- 
 tion of praise. 
 
 , In this, and in every other point, I shall always 
 be happy to shew you how much I esteem and 
 admire you. Perhaps I am the more ready to 
 say so, because I know experimentally the envy 
 that must beset you in every movement, and
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 283 
 
 would rejoice to strangle your rising lamp of 
 day with darkness. I have, accordingly, taken 
 the liberty of giving a Scotch hint, through the 
 press, to my Lord of Exeter, that he ought to 
 prefer you. And I remain, with great regard, 
 dear Sir, your most obedient friend and servant, 
 
 J. Whitaker. 
 
 Mrs. W. joins me in kindest compliments to 
 Mrs. P. 
 
 N. B. Let me administer another medicine of 
 consolation to you from my own experience. A 
 gentleman in this neighbourhood, who has lately 
 been at 0]is:ford, wrote me word on his arrival, 
 that my Arianism met with " great applause" 
 there. I replied, that he flattered me very agree- 
 ably by the intelligence. This, I suppose, made 
 him alter his note. A few days afterward he call- 
 ed, suppressed entirely the "great applause," and 
 mentioned only what was an implied and general 
 censure. I saw the meaning of all this. And the 
 same gentleman has since assured me, that the 
 " great applause" was true, and that the censure 
 was only to one single point, to the manner too, 
 and not to the matter ; to the pointed manner in 
 which I expose Mahomet's Paradise. But I have 
 encountered more envy just at this moment, I be- 
 lieve, from a story that is in circulation here, and 
 that I hear from the laityy of a nobleman in ad- 
 ministration speaking very handsomely of my 
 writings, and saying the King must do something 
 for me. This, you will think, is enough to set up 
 all the little souls about me, in open sedition 
 against me. But " something too much of this."
 
 284 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 Dear Sir, Friday Evening, March 9, 1792. 
 
 I threw aside all my own studies, and set to 
 work upon answering D. H. I was busy at it 
 when the Bishop of Deny, in Ireland, Earl of 
 Bristol in England, came and spent a day with me. 
 I thus lost the only post left me, of having my 
 vindication even noticed in the February Maga- 
 zine, and promised for March. I sent it, however, 
 by the following post, and believe it will be in- 
 serted in the next. I wrote it hastily, under all 
 these circumstances of delay, put the initials of 
 my own name to it, and have spoken as warmly 
 in your favour, as friendship itself would dictate. 
 
 Mr. Nichols seems, by your account, to have ra- 
 ther taken part with you than against you. He 
 will also do you the justice, I doubt not, of insert- 
 ing my vindication. The interest of his Magazine, 
 which is of course the polar star of his movements, 
 will put him upon this conduct. A reciprocation 
 of attacks and defences, if not protracted to tedi- 
 ousness, lends a new life to his Miscellany. 
 
 I remain, in great haste, dear Sir, your affec- 
 tionate friend, J. Whitaker.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 285 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 My Dear Sir, Monday Evening, May 7, 1792. 
 
 I have received the two volumes of Poems. I 
 did not mean to open them immediately, but the 
 impatience of my girls opened them, unawares to 
 me, while they were in the quest of pictures. I 
 then looked at the preface, and thank you for the 
 very friendly manner in which you have men- 
 tioned me. 
 
 You ask me in which of the English Reviews 
 I shall have any of my criticisms. I answer, that 
 some are now in publication there ; and that you, 
 who know my style so well, ought to have known 
 me there. The criticisms on Berington's History 
 of Henry the Second, and those on the Archa?olo- 
 gia, vol. IX. which have now continued for three 
 or four months past, were written beneath the shade 
 of this academick bower. The criticisms on 
 Lodge's Illustrations of British History, Biogra- 
 phy, and Manners, in 3 vols. 4to. which were pub- 
 lished (I believe) for the first time, on the first of 
 this month, and will be continued for three or four 
 months, are equally shots from the demi-culverin 
 of R. L. But, in saying this, I say what few 
 know, and none must tell. When these, and re- 
 marks upon your Orator and your Discourses are 
 finished, I shall not have any thing more till next 
 winter. 
 
 I embrace your proposal, with pleasure, of ex- 
 changing works for works. I shall write to one of
 
 286 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 my booksellers in three or four weeks, with some 
 more of my remarks upon Lodge, and of my praises 
 of your writings. I shall then order down a set of 
 my works ; and I shall wait with impatience for 
 your History of Devonshire. Only you shall send 
 me in the mean time, if you please, the last edi- 
 tion of your Theocritus, &c. 
 
 As to the Parochial History of Cornwall, I cer- 
 tainly shall not undertake it. I never intended to 
 do so. I was only prompted, in a paroxysm of 
 local antiquarianism, to put a few notices together 
 that related to general history, and that of my 
 own parish ; and to superadd a few detached ob- 
 servations that chance presented to my hand. 
 All these I still reserve for you, when Devonshire 
 shall have received its History from a Cornish man, 
 and when the fugitive shall return to his native 
 land. If I should ever leave this county before 
 you return into it, I shall be happy to deposit my 
 papers in your hands, as a pledge of my regard, 
 a legacy of antiquarianism, and an incitement to 
 undertake the History. 
 
 Your health, indeed, I apprehend from your 
 account, is at times precarious. You should at- 
 tend to this, my dear Sir ; you are yet young, and 
 have, probably a long race of usefulness to run. 
 You should not abridge this, by too great sedenta- 
 riness. Your poetical nerves will not bear the 
 continued application that we prose men can un- 
 dergo. '* The Nemean lion's hardy nerve" can do 
 feats of energy and strength, that the fine formed 
 antelope cannot pretend to do. In other words.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 287 
 
 strain not your health too much. Remember 
 that, next to rehgion, the prime blessing of life is 
 health. 
 
 I am going on, thank God, perfectly in health, 
 yet wonderfully sedentary. My Private Life of 
 Queen Mary, which I meant only to transcribe, I 
 have been greatly enlarging. One volume I 
 finished last week, and the other I shall begin in a 
 day or two. I would gladly send it up to London 
 before Michaelmas; but though three-fourths I 
 consider as already written, yet, I believe I must 
 not think of pushing on so rapidly. I love to 
 write rapidly, and to revise leisurely. 
 
 We have had a singular character with us, the 
 Bishop of Derry*=. He is ingenious, lively, and a 
 man of great taste in sculpture, painting, and 
 architecture. He came and took a bed here, then 
 went to Plymouth Dock, returned two or three 
 weeks afterward, and came professedly to spend 
 two days in talking Greek with me. *^ I have 
 been devouring Polybius these three days," he said 
 in his pre-monitory letter, " and want to chew 
 the cud of it with you." He came accordingly; 
 we talked over Polybius, and I have written to 
 him since. He is not convinced, and I am not 
 converted. 
 
 Dear Sir, your obedient friend and servant, 
 
 J. Whitaker. 
 
 * Frederic Augustus, fourth Earl of Bristol,
 
 S88 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 R. G. to R. P. 
 
 My Dear P. b A , Nov. 25, 1792. 
 
 I am almost sick of apologies ; they are things of 
 course ; and are seldom looked upon as a sufficient 
 reason for the liberty we take in procrastinating 
 the acknowledgment of the letters of our friends. 
 I believe it is now nearly seven months since I had 
 the pleasure of receiving your last epistle, in 
 which you wished me all the happiness that the 
 state I had entered into was capable of affording. 
 I shall, therefore, bring forward no excuse to pal- 
 liate the charge which can be advanced against 
 me ; but by pleading " guilty^'' I most sincerely 
 hope that you will make no comments on such an 
 almost immeasurable interval of silence and inat- 
 tention. I shall only hint, that though I have not 
 written, not a day has scarcely rolled over my 
 head without my mind being called away to visit 
 in imagination the scenery of Kenton, with the 
 interesting occupations of its parochial cottage. 
 
 That you should wish to know how I am situ- 
 ated, and whether or no I have experienced 
 the felicity I expected in deserting the paths of 
 celibacy, is no more than natural. But can you 
 give credit to me if I assure you, that I am as 
 completely happy, as I imagined anterior to pos- 
 session. I ask the question because the generality, 
 I suspect, are too proud to confess their disap- 
 pointments, even to their intimates ; consequently 
 you have some reason to doubt me. Yet when I
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 289 
 
 tell you seriously, that instead of wishing 1 had 
 postponed pronouncing the irrevocable " I will," 
 I lament 1 had not the good sense to have exerted 
 ray influence to obtain permission to pronounce it 
 sooner, you will do me the justice to believe me. 
 I have reason, indeed, to look upon myself as one 
 of the most fortunate of my species, since the 
 woman to whom I have associated myself for life, 
 possesses every possible requisite to render the 
 most interesting of unions full and complete ; and 
 particularly that quality of mind which I look 
 upon as indispensible., — I mean forbearance ; a 
 quality which softens down the original rugged- 
 ness of our nature, and establishes the claims the 
 sex have upon us for gentleness and humanity of 
 treatment more effectually than all the efforts of 
 the most eloquent remonstrance put together. 
 
 It will give you pleasure, likewise, my dear 
 friend, when I further tell you, that in the course 
 of three or foiu' months I look forwards to a situ- 
 ation no less interesting than that which I am now 
 in ; viz. the parental one. Men may say what they 
 please upon the subject of the incumbrances of a 
 family, but I am convinced that marriage receives 
 no inconsiderable degree of felicity from the ac- 
 quisition of those pledges of mutual affection. 
 They are objects upon which we repose in the 
 decline of life with the purest delight. They 
 keep alive our social feelings, and excite an in- 
 terest in our bosoms which prevents old age from 
 becoming torpid and insensible. I have not un- 
 frequently envied you the satisfaction you have 
 
 u
 
 290 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 experienced in being a father. What that satis- 
 faction is, and whether or no I have over-estimated 
 its nature, the approaching year will inform me. 
 
 The situation of this place is extremely beauti- 
 ful. Our house adjoins the B of D 's 
 
 park, which is diversified with all the requisites of 
 a perfect landscape, and in which we have the 
 liberty of walking. At the bottom of the garden 
 the W — , a wild unruly stream, trails his immea- 
 surable length along ; and just beyond it, is a 
 hill rising abruptly, whose summit was once 
 a Roman station but which is now crowned 
 with a mansion, built in the venerable days of 
 Queen Elizabeth. To me these are things which 
 afford the highest degree of mental luxury. I 
 was ever, you know, an enthusiastic admirer of 
 nature ; but when to nature you add the works of 
 art, particularly those which carry back the mind 
 into remote times, admiration is more rational. 
 Sensations and reflections are then more closely 
 and intimately linked together. 
 
 Nov. 26. — I have no right, my dear friend, to 
 expect to have the pleasure of hearing from you 
 before a lapse of six or seven months. Yet when 
 I consider that nature has mixed up the materials 
 that compose your character with more atten- 
 tion to the laws of moral harmony than she 
 usually observes, I am led to flatter myself, that 
 that ingredient termed charity, or forgiveness, 
 has not been omitted by her. If so, I shall 
 look for a letter on the tiptoe of expectation in 
 the course of a month or tv^'o ; in which I trust 
 you will give me an account of your proceedings.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 291 
 
 both literary and domestic. You will reflect that 
 I am now a family man ; that I no longer exist in 
 that most miserable of situations, an unhoused 
 bachelor ; and that of course I shall for the fu- 
 ture turn out a more regular and interesting cor- 
 respondent than I have hitherto proved myself, 
 since we parted from each other at the University. 
 
 In t!ie Monthly Review and the Gentleman's 
 Magazine I have seen an account of the Devon 
 and Cornwall Poems. You will easily conceive 
 that I was not a little surprised on reading the 
 extract from the *' Ode to Fancy." It will en- 
 courage me to devote an evening occasionally to 
 the cultivation of the Muse. I have sent for them 
 to my bookseller, and promise myself much 
 gratification in the perusal. The copy which 
 you have, you will keep till you see me, which I 
 have great reason to hope will be in the course of 
 next summer. 
 
 The two following Sonnets I send for your cor- 
 rection ; the first was addressed to my wife a little 
 before I married her ; the other I wrote a few 
 evenings since. 
 
 Y'^ours affectionately, R. G. 
 
 To Shea. 
 
 Say, lovely Shea, whose attractive mien 
 Rivals the grace of fair Idalia's Queen ! 
 Ah ! saVj as o'er thy charms I fondly gaze, 
 Lost in the wildering turns of Rapture's maze ! 
 Why sinks my heart ! why starts the lucid tear. 
 Or heaves my bosom fraught with many a fear ? 
 Can that angelic mind, so chaste, so purr, 
 So free from Vanity's fantastic lure, 
 U 2
 
 292 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Ere dim the views those bright'ning smiles illume. 
 Or drive sweet Hope to Sorrow's sick'ning gloom, — 
 Injurious thought ; — yet Fancy's torturing train. 
 Still pierce my breast ! still fire my madd'ning brain ! 
 Alas ! 'tis heaven alone can sooth my soul to rest, 
 That Heaven that's seated in thy spotless breast. 
 
 To THE Evening Star. 
 
 Sweet Harbinger of Rest ! who pour'st a stream— 
 Pour'st a pale stream of shadowy light. 
 
 Till blue-eyed Cynthia with her silvery beam 
 Shall rise and press tny trembling flight ! 
 
 See, from yon bower, chaste Eve in dew-drops dress 'd 
 
 Serenely leads her fragrant train ! 
 To thee, meek soother of the troubled breast. 
 
 They raise the tributary strain ! 
 
 Fair Star ! beneath whose mild and genial ray. 
 
 Oft have I tun'd the vocal shell, 
 And oft have breath'd Love's plaintive lay. 
 
 And lur'd sweet Echo from her cell ; — 
 
 Still be it mine to greet thy rising beam. 
 Still mine to mourn thy silver setting gleam. 
 
 Dr. Knox to R. P. 
 
 Rev. Sir, Tunbridge, Apr. 30, 1792. 
 
 Your letter cannot but afford me great satisfac- 
 tion. To be approved by men of acknowledged 
 abilities, must be a flattering circumstance. I 
 have read several of your poems with great plea- 
 sure ; and the present you intend to make me, will 
 be very acceptable. The book is not yet come to 
 my hands. I delayed ans^vering your letter a few
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 293 
 
 days, thinking I might receive it. But I was fear- 
 ful lest a longer delay might have the appear- 
 ance of neglect ; and therefore I have resolved 
 to acknowledge your favour previously to the 
 receipt of the book, which, I have no doubt, will 
 be a valuable addition to my little library. 
 
 Give me leave to thank you for this mark of 
 your esteem, and believe me to be, with real re- 
 spect, your obliged humble servant, 
 
 V. Knox. 
 
 Miss Seward to R. P. 
 
 Sir, Lichfield. May 25, 1792. 
 
 1 think myself much honoured and obliged, by 
 a present from the Bards of Devonshire and Corn- 
 wall, of their collected poetic orbs ; and that the 
 brightest star in the galaxy bends its auspicious 
 rays on my muse, in an elegant manuscript sonnet, 
 their harbinger. T am not insensible of the many 
 emanations of genius and fancy in these volumes ; 
 though it has been my lot, alas ! to bend upon 
 them an eye languid from indisposition, an atten- 
 tion wandering, and robbed of all its energy by 
 the dangerous illness of a friend, long, very long 
 beloved, in whose sight and dear society I have 
 lived from my earliest youth ; in whose clear 
 spirit I never saw one cold shade of selfishness, 
 one spot of depravity. 
 
 It concerns me to find you have been so unfortu- 
 nate in the loss of your infants ; yet to how sweet
 
 294 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 a sonnet has that loss given birth ! The general 
 fault, to my taste, of most of the sonnets in these 
 volumes, is the want of Miltonic breaks in their 
 measure, which breaks appear to me a necessary 
 characteristic in that species of poetry ; but the 
 sonnet to the infant Maria has them, and with 
 them every thing that can endear it to the heart 
 and the imagination. Beneath the perhaps too self- 
 flattering idea that there is some resemblance in the 
 style of a couple of my former-day sonnets to this, 
 which I so much admire of yours, and to the 11th 
 bearing your signature, I am tempted to insert 
 them at the termination of this letter. The 8th 
 and 10th, which are also yours, are scarce less my 
 favourites ; and I am pleased with the sonnets 
 marked S. The ode signed G. is a pleasing imita- 
 tion of Collins ; yet I cannot think, with the Edi- 
 tor, that it is of equal excellence to the rhymeless 
 Ode to Evening by that fine poet, though its man- 
 ner is strikingly copied. The Four Odes on Pub- 
 lic Occasions, signed V. have great merit. I am 
 but too highly honoured in one of them. Your 
 lyrics, which open the second volume, are very 
 fine. Tlie Ode to Sleep, and the Mona, are sub- 
 lime ; that to the River Coly, picturesque, in- 
 teresting, and lively. The Picture Gallery I like 
 the least of any thing which bears your signature, 
 because I understand it least. 
 
 My grateful devotion to the charming, though 
 nov7 neglected Muse of Shenstone, will not per- 
 mit me to restrain my expression of the regret and 
 disgust I feel, to see those pleasing volumes dis-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 290 
 
 graced by a feeble attempt to ridicule her natural 
 and beautiful effusions. Shenstone appears to me 
 the only professed pastoral writer, who has struck 
 the true pastoral chords ; who possesses the grace- 
 ful simplicity which those of Virgil and Pope 
 want, without any of that coarseness, into which, 
 attempting to be more natural by painting vulgar 
 nature, Spenser, Gay, and Philips fell. Shen- 
 stone, actually living amidst rural cares, and 
 in the cultivation of scenic beauty, " wrote as 
 he felt.*' He places before us the landscapes 
 by which he was surrounded 5 and all the coy 
 graces of a refined imagination and a feeling 
 heart, flow naturally in his verse. Ample is 
 their power to elevate and render interesting the 
 benevolent employments of the country gentle- 
 man, blended with the pursuits of the scholar and 
 the man of taste ; the easy dignity of fervent 
 friendship, and the animated yet delicate solici- 
 tude of growing passion. Something, surely, of 
 excellence must be wanting in the head or heart of 
 those who perceive not the magic influence of 
 these unobtrusive, these genuine beauties of de- 
 scription, and of sentiment ; who forget that we 
 owe the happiest imitation of Spenser's best man- 
 ner to this poet. " The School-mistress" is alone 
 sufficient to entitle its author to a high seat in 
 the poetic fane of Britain. 
 
 When you see Dr. Downman, have the good- 
 ness to make my best compliments to him, and 
 present my thanks for the letter with which he 
 lately favoured me. My pen had made its acknow-
 
 296 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ledgments to himself, if the state of my health 
 and spirits permitted the cultivation of any new 
 correspondence in addition to the too extended 
 one in which I have been long involved. 
 
 I remain, with the highest esteem, Sir, your 
 obliged, and faithful humble servant, 
 
 Anna Seward. 
 
 Sonnet written by A. S. 1773; inserted for its resemblance to 
 the nth Sonnet, by Mr. Polwhele. 
 
 To Miss ,H. Sneyd. 
 Honora, should that cruel time arrive 
 
 When 'gainst my truth thou should'st mine errors poise. 
 
 Scorning remembrance of our vanish'd joys ; 
 When for the love-warm looks, in which I live. 
 But cold respect must greet me, that shall give 
 
 No tender glance^ no soft regretful sighs j 
 
 When thou shalt pass me with averted eyes. 
 Feigning thou se'est me not, to sting, and grieve. 
 And sicken my sad heart, I cou'd not bear 
 
 Such dire eclipse of thy soul-cheering rays ; 
 I could not learn my struggling heart to tear 
 
 From thy lov'd form, that thro' my memory strays ; 
 Nor, in the pale horizon of Despair, 
 
 Endure the wint'ry, and the darken'd days. 
 
 Sonnet by A. S. written 17SS ; inserted for its resemblance to 
 the 9th, by Mr. P. 
 
 Dim grows the vital flame in his dear breast 
 From whom my life I drew ! — and thrice has Spring 
 Bloom'd ; and fierce Winter thrice, on stormy wing, 
 
 Howl'd o'er the grey, wild fields, since he possest 
 Or strength of frame, or intellect. — Now bring 
 
 Nor morn, nor eve, his cheerful steps that press'd 
 
 Thy pavement, Lichfield, in the spirit blest 
 
 Of social gladness. They have fail'd, and cling
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 297 
 
 Feebly to the fix'd chair ! — no more to rise 
 Elastic ! — Ah ! my heart forbodes that soon 
 
 The full of days shall sleep ! — nor Spring's soft sighs 
 Nor winter's blast aualon him : — begun 
 
 The twilight ; — night is long I — but o'er his eyes 
 Life- weary slumbers weigh the pale lids down. 
 
 W. Hayley, Esq. to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, Eartham, June 11, 1792. 
 
 On my return from an excursion to the North, 
 I have just found two poetical volumes, that, ar- 
 riving here long ago, deserved much earlier thanks; 
 and a letter, which, though dated the 29th of 
 May, did not reach my liouse till last night ; want- 
 ing the name of our Post Town (Chichester), it 
 wandered to East Ham, in Essex. 
 
 This brief prosaic history is a sorry return for 
 so much elegant verse ; but your candour will 
 receive it kindly, and, be assured, that I lament 
 the untoward circumstances which must have 
 made me appear to you, for some time, extremely 
 deficient, not only in gratitude, but good manners. 
 
 Though accident has rendered my thanks to you 
 abominably slow, I entreat you to believe them 
 sincere. I am, in truth, much indebted to you 
 for a collection of poems, in which the Muses ap- 
 pear in their most amiable character, as the pro- 
 moters of friendship. My obligation to you would 
 be infinitely heightened by the very flattering son- 
 net that introduces me in so honourable a man- 
 ner to an interesting group of poetical associates,
 
 298 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 could I believe myself justly entitled to such high 
 distinction ; but you gracious poets of the West 
 have an amiable tendency to overvalue a distant 
 brother of Parnassus ; and who would wish to be 
 cured of a graceful foible that he shares with 
 Dr. Downman ? 
 
 Instead, therefore, of protesting against your 
 kind partiality, allow me to beg you will assure 
 your accomplished physician and poetical neigh- 
 bour of my regard. I am pleased to discover the 
 happy effects of his medical skill, in the energy 
 of your verse ; and sincerely wish to you both 
 a long enjoyment of those prime blessings in hu- 
 man life, health, literature, and friendship. 
 
 Believe me, dear Sir, your much obliged, and 
 faithful servant, W. Hayley. 
 
 W. COWPER to R. P. 
 
 Rev. Sir, Weston-Underwood, June 15, 1792. 
 
 You will not, I hope, judge the sense that I en- 
 tertain of my obligation to you by the tardiness 
 of my acknowledgment. That it reaches you so 
 late is no fault of mine, for I received your most 
 acceptable present, the two volumes of poetry by 
 gentlemen of Devonshire and Cornwall, no longer 
 since than yesterday evening. You do me great 
 honour. Sir, in some beautiful lines written by 
 yourself on a blank leaf of the publication, of 
 which, were any other poet than myself the sub- 
 ject of them, I should be proud to have been the 
 author. The chief glory of any poet is to have
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 299 
 
 pleased those whose writings please others, and on 
 this account you may be sure that I shall always 
 set the highest value on the compliment paid me 
 by you. 
 
 I am, Sir, with much respect, your obliged and 
 obedient humble servant, W. Cowper. 
 
 Dr. Darwin to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, Derby, July 17, 1792. 
 
 I have waited some weeks in vain for a frank 
 to thank you for an elegant collection of poems 
 by bards of Devonshire and Cornwall, and for a 
 more elegant complimental Idyllium, written in 
 the first page, on my Botanic Garden. Appro- 
 bation from post to poet is more grateful, as they 
 who have laboured in the art can best judge of 
 its excellencies and difficulties ; and praise there- 
 fore comes with a better grace from one who has 
 himself written so well. I shall take the liberty of 
 prefixing your elegant lines to the next edition of 
 my work, along w4th others I have received from 
 Mr. Hayley and Mr. Cowper. 
 
 My son Erasmus, who remembers passing some 
 days on a journey with you, speaks of you with 
 great pleasure. He is settled as an attorney in 
 Derby, and is in great business, built on the most 
 lasting foundation of ingenuity and integrity. 
 
 If any thing should ever call you into this 
 country, your company would give great plea- 
 sure to us both. I am, Sir, your obedient servant, 
 
 E. Darwin.
 
 300 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 J. Jones to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, Temple, June 19, 1792. 
 
 A pacquet goes this afternoon to my father, by 
 which I shall take the liberty of sending a few 
 lines in answer to your letter ; for I cannot be at 
 ease till I have expressed my regret for having so 
 hastily, and, perhaps, so ignorantly given my 
 opinion on a subject upon which it is more than 
 probable I am unqualified to speak. But if I have 
 occasion to regret that natural warmth of temper 
 which continually hurries me into the most flagrant 
 absurdities and embarrassments, I have still more 
 reason to deplore my insufficiency to discuss a point 
 involved in such difficulty and obscurity as the pre- 
 sent ; and I ought to have considered that neither 
 my judgment nor my learning would justify such 
 presumption. The only apology I can offer for 
 treating this subject with an air of ridicule, or the 
 Armenians * with any disrespect, will be to call 
 
 * '' It is evident, that by Armenians are meant Armoricans : 
 that the Armoricans were a people who inhabited the j)rovinces 
 on the coast of Gaul, as Flanders, Picardy, Normandy, and 
 Britany : and that Mr. Badcock, with due reverence to his 
 raanes be it spokeUj would not have been guilty of a much 
 greater absurdity, had he taken his aboriginal Britons from the 
 Ark upon Ararat, from the bottom of the Red Sea, or from the 
 bowels of Mount Mtna. 
 
 " With respect to fairy rings and cromlechs, I fear, Mr, Polwhele 
 must content himself with hypothesis. When electricity was 
 Dr. Priestley's hobby horse — when he was a philosophical rather 
 than a political incendiary, he endeavoured to account for fairy 
 rings on electrical principles 3 and I think, in his History of
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 301 
 
 back your attention to the manner in which it 
 was originally introduced, from which nothing 
 else could be collected, than that the hypothesis 
 was solely built on the passage in the Chronicle. 
 The foundation I proved to be a rotten one, con- 
 sequently imagined the superstructure must in- 
 evitably fall to the ground, and fondly exulted in 
 the discovery I thought I had made, without the 
 most remote conception of any further arguments 
 or proofs that were lurking behind. Besides this, 
 I had to plead against the Armenian project, the 
 uniform authorities of our best historians, and my 
 own inveterate attachment to the old British his- 
 tory, which, though commonly deemed spurious, 
 and indeed a forgery of Jeifrey of Monmouth, I 
 have ever considered as being in the main, a 
 genuine and veritable piece of history. You 
 must be conscious of the little ability I possess, 
 and the little disposition I feel to exhibit any of 
 your writings or opinions in a ludicrous light, and 
 how little attention would be paid by the publick 
 to any thing I should advance : if I have been 
 betrayed into any impropriety of expression, I 
 confess I am heartily sorry for it ; and the only 
 reparation I can make is to inform myself fully 
 on the subject, and in future to give my senti- 
 ments with more caution and diffidence. 
 
 Electricity, he has intimated his opinion that they must have 
 been formed by lightning." 
 
 To the above, Jones alludes in his letter of June 19, 1792. It 
 was sent to the Gentleman's Magazine : but Mr. Nichols, [kinder 
 to R. P. than even his friend Jones,] suppressed it.
 
 302 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 To the Stannary History, I promise you, I shall 
 devote all the time that is not employed in the 
 office, till it is finished. Drayton is not to be met 
 with at any of the principal booksellersin London ; 
 for I have applied to all of them. I hope to pro- 
 cure a copy from a private library. 
 
 The summer I shall pass in your neighbour- 
 hood, at my favourite Newhouse, and shall go 
 down in less than a month's time. 
 
 Dear Sir, yours ever, John Jones. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Dear Sir, St. Paul's Street, 29 August. 
 
 I yesterday accomplished " the Exeter Domes- 
 day." I have extracted as much as will serve your 
 purpose — a great deal concerning Exeter, and 
 eleven other towns. This morning I shall devote 
 to the deciphering, and will attend you at any 
 time between this and Saturday se'nnight, except 
 next Saturday, either at Kenton or Exeter, as you 
 please. The Nomina Villarum can only be settled 
 when we meet. At the end of this letter you 
 
 will see how K employed himself in the 
 
 Exchequer Chamber, and you will, I am sure, 
 compassionate my distresses. To drudge for six 
 hours together, and to be derided for my industry 
 by such a trull of a Muse as his, is far beyond 
 what mortal patience can endure ! 
 
 Dear Sir, yours ever, 
 
 J= Jones.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 303 
 
 Oil AN ANTiaUARIAN AmaTEUR. 
 
 (Written in the Exchequer Chamber of Exeter Cathedral.) 
 
 Dimly thro' the Gothic gloom 
 
 Jones* in sullen state I see ! 
 Pondering o'er his dusty doom — 
 
 How sublimely blest is he ! 
 
 Rugged accents charm his ear. 
 
 Liquid lays the youth disdains : 
 Hides and Carucates f appear 
 
 Sweeter than the Muse's strains. 
 
 Mouldy legends, antique lore. 
 
 Yield his polish'd soul delight j 
 Who like gentle Jones can pore, 
 
 Who in dulness shine so bright ? 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Middle Temple, Dec. 4, 1792. 
 
 ****** 
 
 It gives me great concern to find that you do 
 not consider your health to be improved by your 
 excursion to Dawlish. But, my good Sir, do not 
 you think that, at least, some of your complaints 
 arise partly from a poetical imagination, which, I 
 understand, is apt to create things which have 
 really no existence in nature ? The inflammation 
 in your back, of which you complained some time 
 ago, you will admit to be a very unusual kind of 
 
 * This gentleman being engaged in collating the Exeter 
 Domesday Book, and appearing to derive considerable satisfac- 
 tion from his elegant occupation, invited an extempore effusion 
 of the Muse ! 
 
 t Domesday language.
 
 304 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 distemper. I have in vain searched Quincy and 
 Buchan for some information on the subject, but 
 can find nothing except an account of a disease 
 which they call Tahes Dorsalis, which I do not 
 suppose is exactly your case, inasmuch as I ap- 
 prehend it to be rather a consequence of inflam- 
 mation^ than an inflammation itself. My own 
 health is never so much benefited as by early 
 rising and horse-exercise. With the most earnest 
 wishes for the full establishment of your health, 
 and a long continuance of your valuable life, I 
 conclude. Dear Sir, yours most sincerely, 
 
 J. Jones. 
 
 P. S. The time seems to approach when true 
 patriots miust openly declare their sentiments, and 
 use the most strenuous means of suppressing re- 
 bellion and republicanism. I hear this morning 
 that the King's friends will be shortly directed to 
 distinguish themselves from reformers, by wearing 
 cocked hats. I think it a bad plan ; it will occa- 
 sion perpetual affrays in the London streets ; and 
 it will be attended with equal danger to the per- 
 sonal safety of each party. Better means might 
 be taken to estimate the inclinations of the people. 
 
 The King is putting the Tower in complete 
 order — the old cannons are removed, and new 
 ones slung — the outworks repaired — ammunition 
 provided — the barracks fitted up, and a regiment 
 of artillery sent in, A proclamation on Sunday di- 
 rects the embodying of the Militia — Parliament is 
 called the 23rd instant — a camp in Hyde Park 
 is talked of. In sliort, we seem preparing for a
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 305 
 
 civil war. As soon as disturbances begin, I shall 
 probably be off. The first volley will send me 
 into peaceful Devonshire. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Dear Sir, Temple, December 7, 1791. 
 
 As I am not certain that you have seen a late 
 number of the Gentleman's Magazine, wherein a 
 very good-natured Correspondent speaks of you, 
 I will copy, by your leave, his remarks. — " One of 
 your Reviewers (says a * Southern Faunist') has 
 taken an exception to the first two stanzas of Mr. 
 Polwhele's * Ode after a Thunderstorm,* that ap- 
 pears to me unjust. Mr. Polwhele I know not j 
 but I think his stanzas entitled to vindication. 
 The stanzas excepted to, form a sublime piece of 
 poetic painting strictly consonant to nature, and 
 drawn in a style of poesy correspondent wath the 
 style of Salvator Rosa in painting. Mr. Pol- 
 whele's meaning is forcible and clear ; insomuch 
 that I not only comprehend but behold it. I 
 see the forest-steep, the stream bordering its 
 base, and the narrow intervening level filled with 
 trees and underwood! Furious gusts setting di- 
 rectly against the slope, impel the saplings, and 
 the underwood to "lash" it: the foliage, sepa- 
 rated from the boughs by the violence, descends 
 into the bourne, and, mixing with the aqueous 
 foam therein, "shrinks" into the interstices of the 
 
 X
 
 306 TRADITIONS AND IlECOLLECTlONS. 
 
 banks. The application of the verb ' lash* to the 
 action of the trees influenced by the wind, is per- 
 fectly familiar in sylvan life." This much and 
 more also said the " Southern Faunist." Qu. who is 
 he ? Many of his papers are very amusing. He 
 is evidently a Botanist ; and, indeed, possest of 
 various information. Having nothing to spin out 
 of my own brain, you see, I fall to copying. In 
 fact I am in the habit of writing so much in the 
 way of our profession, in pleading, conveyances, 
 &c. that I absolutely write as if I were to be 
 paid per sheet, so that I may be said to draw, 
 rather than compose or compile a letter. How- 
 ever this be, still patience and meekness are truly 
 Christian virtues, and perhaps you ought to be as 
 much obliged to such of your friends as compel 
 you to exercise those virtues, as your predecessors, 
 the martyrs of Holy Church, gloried in suffering 
 other persecutions. 
 
 Dear Sir, most faithfully yours, 
 
 John Jones. 
 
 Major Drewe to R. P. 
 
 Exeter, 1792. 
 Where, my friend, is your Simonides ? Doubt- 
 less, it is equal to your other juvenile performance. 
 " The Rape of Claudian' which you have inserted 
 among other good things. 
 
 Yours, 5:c. E. D.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 307 
 
 From the pointedness of its satire, it was, doubt- 
 less, superior in the Major's estimation. And 
 here it is 
 
 "With all its imperfections on its head." 
 
 The OaiGiN of Women. Imitated from the Greek of Simonides. 
 A School Exercise. 
 
 When sovereign Jove the female race design'd, 
 He cast in different moulds each different mind. 
 And, as on various substances his eyes 
 He turn'd, thence bade a strange creation rise. 
 
 A sow (in sooth it pains me while I sing) 
 Was the first model of the first made thing ; 
 Whose house unswept, with dirt is covered o'er. . . 
 Pepetual litters on the greasy floor, 
 Tables, on which the name of slut to write, 
 While she, with face unwasht, a sordid wight, 
 And linen soiled, which hurts the sense of smelling, 
 Wallows, and fattens, in her nasty dwelling. 
 
 A crafty /ox supplied the model next. 
 And well the comment answer'd to the text: 
 Of wondrous cunning, and all piercing view. 
 Both good and evil equally she knew. 
 Women thus formed, are often very devils. 
 Decent at times, and necessary evils. 
 One hour are passing cold, then passing hot, 
 And numerous are the tricks they boast, God wot ! 
 
 A bitch, (the truth I cannot but display) 
 Railing and barking, brought the next to day ; 
 Nor to her type disgraceful was the fair. 
 Curious to see, and curious still to hear ; 
 Darting her glances quick, and shifting round, 
 With wandering footsteps traversing the ground, 
 X 2
 
 308 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 And yelping, though she sees no mortal nigh. 
 What power alas ! her ceaseless tongue can tie ? 
 Threats she contemns, nor heeds the offer'd bone ; 
 In vain you dash her teeth out with a stone : 
 In vain you lift the whip, in vain you flatter. 
 In presence of your guests, she still must chatter. 
 Skill'd a perpetual larum to excite. 
 Growl at the Sun, and bay the Moon by night ! 
 Formed from a lump of earth, another came. 
 And the gods cursed an husband with the dame. 
 Women like her, are heavy, stupid, slow ; 
 Nothing they know, nor ever wish to know. 
 Give black for white, they see not the deceit, 
 Nor understand one office — but to eat ; 
 And when keen wintry frosts the field attire. 
 To shiver, draw the chair, and hug the fire. 
 Another, lo ! from the salt deep ascends. 
 Whom Laughter now, and pleasing Mirth attends : 
 A stranger seeing her, would swear her face. 
 Her manners deckt by every gentler grace ; 
 That none in elegance could her exceed. 
 Her mind, a sweet parteiTe without a weed. 
 Let but one hour elapse, this fair so mild 
 Approach you dare not — she is frantic, wild j 
 You turn your eyes away and shun the sight. 
 And feelingly exclaim, gods ! what a sprite ! 
 Ilobb'd of her young, a tigress thus would rage. 
 Her vixen passion heeds nor youth, nor age. 
 Nor friends, nor foes ; — most like her parent deep. 
 On which the lingering winds now seem to sleep. 
 Clad in its summer vest, while, every smart 
 Forgotten, joy inspires the sailor's heart : 
 But, on a sudden, vengeful storms arise. 
 And lift its mountain billows to the skies. 
 Creating yet, Jove saw before him pass 
 A sack of ashes on a loaded ass. 
 Hence he composed a dame, who stood stock still. 
 No words could make her move against her will ^
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. S09 
 
 But strong necessity at length impell'd. 
 The patient-bearing drudge no more rebell'd ; 
 She toil'd and labour'd like an errant slave, 
 Obey'd her lord, and did the work he gave. 
 Meanwhile, by stealth, her stomach claims her care, 
 On any food she dines, and any where ; 
 Eats or by day, or night, or as she can, 
 Roasts a potatoe, claps a sop i'the pan. 
 
 A meagre weasel struck his godship's mind, 
 Who a sad discontented wretch design'd ; 
 Nothing to her is beauteous, nothing gay. 
 She sees December 'midst the radiant May, 
 For her, alas ! not love itself hath charms. 
 She pines and fiets e'en in her husband's arms ; 
 Filches her neighbour's fame, spoils all their meetings. 
 And every dish of tea with scandal sweetens. 
 
 Now from a mare, high-mettled, prancing, young, 
 With loose and flowing mane, another sprung. 
 No servile deeds for her, the haughty elf ! 
 To make a pudding ! Oh ! 'twere death itself. 
 Plain-work ! good heaven preserve her aching head ! 
 Were fingers such as her's for plain-work bred ? 
 Freedom she prizes, duty is a joke ; 
 She kicks and winces at the marriage-yoke. 
 Her dainty person, lo ! the important care, 
 She paints her cheeks, and combs her spreading hair, 
 With feathers, or with flowers, her head adorning, 
 And at her toilette wastes the hours of morning; 
 Views in a pocket glass her face, or neck. 
 And smiles and wipes off an imagined speck. 
 Strangers with pleasure mark this buxom bride. 
 But ! how curs'd is he to whom she's tied j 
 Unless, indeed, a nabob or a king 
 Should for a mistress choose so vain a thing ! 
 
 An ape supplied the next creative plan. 
 And a most loathsome present gave to man. 
 With wrinkled forehead, and a flatten'd nose 
 A laugh she raises wheresoe'er she goes.
 
 310 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS, 
 
 Her neck is short, she scarce can turn her head ; 
 Her lips cling close, while wide her back is spread. 
 Oh wretch ! who takes this partner to his bed ! 
 Artful and cunning, like her parent, she. 
 With her obnoxious form her thoughts agree. 
 Ugly without, and ugly too within. 
 And if she cannot smile, the fright can grin. 
 From her a kindness no one ever proves, 
 For mischief is the diet which she loves. 
 
 Jove saw the industrious inmates of the hive, 
 And straight appeared the loveliest dame alive. 
 Happy the man to whom is thus consign'd 
 A blameless being both in form and mind ; 
 Happy the house which boasts this spotless fair. 
 Tranquillity, content, and wealth are there. 
 She still retains her husband's constant heart ; 
 At both, to late old age, Death wings his dart ; 
 Their grateful offspring weeping o'er the tomb, 
 Blest with the father's sense, the mother's bloom. 
 Transcending all the sex, she soars above : 
 Celestial grace is her's, she breathes celestial love. 
 She scorns the light and vain : how pure ! how chaste ! 
 Virtue is her's, and unaffected taste. 
 Such, on its favourites, partial heaven bestows ; 
 And rare from partial heaven such bounty flows ! 
 
 ^1 
 
 V 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Dear PolwhELE, November, 1792. 
 
 I am sorry you was prevented dining with me. 
 And I am vex'd at not meeting you this day. 
 Downman was ill ; I took the chair for him. 
 Swete will tell you that our society promises to be 
 on a grand basis; no trifling essays. Parr has
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 811 
 
 followed up my idea of Rome with a pretty com- 
 pliment to me as his leader, and with much know- 
 ledge and a style he does not give himself proper 
 credit for. 
 
 With a little dash to the pro and con I think 
 our poetical work mends in the page of criticism. 
 Suppose we tempt it further by taking out in an- 
 other volume those threads which are too rough to 
 assimilate with the general texture. 
 
 Write to me upon all this. I shall be absent 
 about three weeks j and then I am my friend's for 
 the winter. 
 
 Your servant, E. Drewe. 
 
 [ During Major Drewe's travels, a short time 
 before the date of the preceding, Hole and myself 
 were favoured with some excellent letters from 
 our eccentric friend. I have preserved the fol- 
 lowing.] 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Dear P , London, 1792. 
 
 I am waiting here for an old military friend who 
 wants to ramble somewhere with me ; his name 
 is Massey, the companion of my battles and the 
 firmest supporter of my fallen cause. He tells me 
 he shall come hither from Ireland as soon as he 
 can, so I have not time to come down to you at 
 present ; for not to meet him here after a ten years' 
 absence would be a violation of all that friend-
 
 312 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ship, heightened by absence, requires from the gen- 
 erous mind. I can only tell you that I possess an 
 American paper of 1783, advertising a third edi- 
 tion of my letter to a young soldier, price a dollar ; 
 which, after a very good analysis of the contents, 
 concludes thus, " It may with confidence be assert- 
 ed that this is an elegant and most useful compo- 
 sition, hardly to be exceeded in the British lan- 
 guage." 
 
 I am told, the whole impression was bought 
 up by the rebel army. So I have become a 
 lecture reader on war to the enemies I fought 
 against. What an odd life would mine make ! 
 
 N. B. I see the names are at length in Dodsley. 
 Surrounded, however, as I shall be by genius, 
 obscurity might be what I ought to court, but 
 there will be no harm in showing that a human 
 butcher could at times humanize himself by the 
 poUter arts. E. Drewe. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 My GOOD Friend, Sacheron, near Geneva, Sept. S. 
 You mentioned that a line from abroad would 
 not be unacceptable to you. I should have writ- 
 ten to you before, but have been almost incessant- 
 ly on the move, giving but little respite for neces- 
 sary refreshment. 1 passed through France with 
 danger and difficulty ; and since that I have visited 
 the glaciers of Italy, made a complete tour of 
 Switzerland, and that part of Germany which lies 
 through the Black Forest from Constance to Ba- 
 
 i
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 313 
 
 sil, and am now on the point of visiting Italy in 
 earnest, crossing the Alps at Mount Cenis. You 
 expect a description, but a whole ream of paper 
 would not be sufficient to contain it. I have given 
 Hole some slight sketch of my route with a few ob- 
 servations on the Alps in general, which I begged 
 he would shew you. But where the features are sim- 
 ple, as in lakes or mountains, it is very difficult 
 to convey to any one's idea the striking points in 
 which the resemblance differs. I attempted this 
 once in a description of the lake of Killarney. 
 I scarcely satisfied myself, and did not convey 
 any adequate ideas to my friends. I shall only 
 add to these remarks, that I can easily suppose a 
 learned man in Cornwall, or whom you please, to 
 trace on a map with tolerable accuracy the marches 
 of Parma and Spinola in a country perfectly level ; 
 but how he can accomplish the task of delineat- 
 ing the march of Hannibal through the highest 
 Alps baffles my conjecture ; and though I may 
 read the work with pleasure, yet I believe Hanni- 
 bal, could he peruse it, would treat your ingenious 
 friend as he did the Sophist who read him a lecture 
 on war — receive it with loud peals of laughter. 
 The place I now write from is a grand caravan- 
 sera, filled with Enghsh unwhipped school-boys, 
 who are so noisy I scarce know what I write, 
 so I must content myself with a few cursory 
 observations. Your Theocritus came into my 
 memory as I passed through the country of 
 the Grisons ; the cheese country, shepherds and 
 shepherdesses in straw hats adorned with rib-
 
 314* TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 bons and braided locks, &c ; but the men had 
 universally beards j and the women, with the gar- 
 ment which is to cover unto the feet tucked as 
 high as the arm pits, resembled Ouran Outangs in a 
 progressive state : this display of limb shows great 
 honesty, as in an unarmed state you see the limbs 
 you cheapen for. A more delicate proof of ho- 
 nesty is to be found amongst the ladies who form 
 clubs of those of equal age, called the 16, the 25, 
 nay, the 35 and 40 clubs. Our ladies will doubt 
 the existence of these clubs, because they doubt 
 the existence of such an aera in life ; from 2o to 
 50 being the long and mirahilis annus of an 
 English spinster. This great country is amazingly 
 populous, and Switzerland is so overpeopled and 
 so wanting in manufactures that the surplus is 
 hired out to war. If countries overpeopled expend 
 the surplus by the bloody merchandise of foreign 
 wars, bachelors there deserve premiums not 
 taxes, laurels not taunts ; civic crowns for hav- 
 ing preserved the citizen by not giving him exist- 
 ence to lose — one use for a bachelor : bachelors 
 also serve to restore the balance of a near rela- 
 tion's fortune, frittered away amongst too many 
 children : bachelors therefore have their use, act- 
 ing on the constitution of the public as a preven- 
 tative and a restorative. 
 
 You will be surprised at my visiting Zurich 
 without seeing Lavater, but quacks and conjurors 
 are not in my travelling list. Socrates, confessing 
 the vices attributed to him by the physiognomist 
 of Athens, and saying he had cured them by phi-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 315 
 
 losophy, paid an elegant compliment to his fa- 
 vourite pursuit, though at the expence of truth ; 
 however Zurich gave birth to a train of ideas 
 which you may think fantastic as Lavater in the 
 latter end, though founded on some solidity at its 
 birth. The town house of Zurich is adorned on 
 the outside with the busts of Grecian heroes ; by 
 their side those of heroes less known, with rough 
 faces, and rougher names, whose language ex- 
 cludes all wish in their historians to celebrate 
 them. But why has not the resemblance between 
 the Swiss and the Greeks engaged more of literary 
 attention ? Both nations occupied a small space 
 of Europe, divided into communities, separate in 
 government, but bound to assist the common 
 cause. Their Diet at Friburg resembled the 
 wise Council of the Amphyctions. Both inhabit- 
 ed a country of lakes, mountains, and strong 
 passes, surrounded alike by powerful and jealous 
 enemies, Macedon and Persia, Austria and Bur- 
 gundy. The one was invaded by Xerxes, and win- 
 ning battles over superior numbers at Thermo- 
 pylse and Marathon : the other by Burgundy, 
 and gaining no less distinguished honour at Morat 
 and at Nancy. These victories, in great measure, 
 were owing to the same causes, the rashness of the 
 assailants, and a choice of posts in the defend- 
 ants ; for whatever may be said in favour of Gre- 
 cian discipline, though they knew the advantage 
 of moving in contact from the days of Ajax, and 
 had a judicious eye as to ground ; yet that point 
 of tactics, which like a snake evolves an army
 
 316 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 into every various form which exigencies require, 
 without losing its strength or continuity, hence 
 called evolution, was reserved for the skill of 
 Epaminondas. No traces of the Grecian victories 
 are to be found in the records of Persia : in those 
 of Burgundy the Swiss victories are treated slight- 
 ly, and I remember a small history of France 
 with no other elision than the entire campaigns of 
 Marlborough. The petty divisions of the Swiss, 
 when released from a foreign enemy, have sunk 
 almost indeed into oblivion ; whilst the vigour of 
 Thucydides has embalmed those of Greece in 
 their immortal language, and given to petty con- 
 tests, where the loss of one thousand men at 
 Leuctra ruined their most powerful commonw^ealth, 
 the dignified name of the Peloponnesian war. A 
 more fanciful mind may carry the parallel further. 
 The Catholic states of Lucerne and Friburg may 
 be compared to those of Elis and Delphi, who 
 preserved all the antient ceremonies of their dei- 
 ties, which the more polished states had in some 
 measure cast aside here ; Geneva, rich in gold- 
 smiths' work and jewellery maybe Corinth ; Zurich, 
 first in rank and state, may be Athens ; it also 
 boasts its statuary. Athens mixed the statues of 
 their citizens with those of the gods; Zurich also has 
 fountains adorned with statues of the four seasons ; 
 Spring and Autumn represented by Flora and Bac- 
 chus, Summer and Winter by a Swiss husbandman 
 in his large breeches, and a venerable magistrate 
 in his fur robes. Berne, situated inland, deprived 
 of the resources of lakes and rivers, powerful.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 317 
 
 warlike, and ambitious, of course must represent 
 Sparta ; but, alas ! I could find no law that ad- 
 mitted amongst its military virtues the honourable 
 practice of thievery ! 
 
 I have, in my journal, some more trash of the 
 sort ; therefore, perhaps, you are not sorry that 
 my paper, not my perseverance, is nearly at an 
 end. I beg my very best respects to Mrs. P. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 Dear Polwhele, 
 
 There is a point wdiere the proud waves of the 
 sea must be stopped, and where must cease the 
 peregrinations of a wanderer. Naples then has 
 been the high water of my travelling tide, 
 and I am now on my ebb as far as Rome. At 
 the sound of mighty Rome your eyes doubt- 
 less catch the enthusiastic fire, and your expecta- 
 tions beat high ; what w^ll you say when I tell 
 you I shall leave it in two days for Florence, after 
 spending little more than three weeks in it, though 
 I have read that it requires three months, nay years, 
 to see it properly ; but is it proper to see every 
 thing in Rome ? Rome, like other fine places, 
 with many fine things, has much of duplicate in 
 the statues and pictures, much of trash and trinket 
 under the name of private collection, and which 
 are much too minute ; for one wishes to see Art 
 on its largest and most impressive scale. The 
 arabesques, frescos, inscriptions, basso relievos,
 
 318 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 &c. are copied into books, and may be perused 
 with more comfort by one's fire side at home, than 
 in their original mutilated state. There are peo- 
 ple who live daily by shewing these things, and 
 whose interest it is to detain you long amongst 
 them. Many people come, ignorant of history ; 
 all must be shewn to them ; much time is lost in 
 visiting those who care not for you. People suf- 
 fer themselves to be dragged from the capitol to 
 see a solitary Cameo, oi from a moon-light walk in 
 the Colliseo, to a Conversazione, well defined by 
 Moore to be a place without conversation. Men 
 of this sort must blame themselves if they waste 
 much time in not seeing Rome, and content 
 themselves with having seen the Italians, who 
 have as little connection with the idea of Rome 
 in a classic sense, as the Arabs have with Palmyra, 
 because they hut amidst its ruins. I have seen 
 all worth seeing in Rome, and much more ; and I 
 will give you its fair outline. Rome is a cabinet 
 of rarities contained in a very plain case ; the 
 town, literally poor and dirty, yet appears splendid 
 in prints; e. g. — the Piazza del Populo in these 
 presents three streets, as broad as Oxford Road, 
 but each street is miserably narrow. The Pan- 
 theon appears in a noble square ; but it stands in 
 a wretched market-place, surrounded with filth 
 and wretchedness. The Palaces are outside with- 
 out architecture, with grated windows, and appear 
 like hospitals and prisons. Almost all the great 
 ruins stand, luckily for them, out of the present 
 town to wonderful advantage ; nay, St. Peter's
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. S19 
 
 itself, though of modern date, seems to have 
 skulk'd away, in hopes of a better situation. The 
 exaggerations of travellers bring to disappointment 
 many an industrious man who would have been of 
 some use in his native Jand ; and having heard that 
 after a view of Rome, all other things hide 
 their diminished heads, every honest man must 
 declare, that on the view of the external of Rome, 
 he felt himself woefully disappointed. In the 
 internal is blended all that taste and majesty can 
 produce. No casts can give any idea of the sta- 
 tues, or copies of the pictures. In some palaces, 
 tapestry, damask, and other silk are held as nought; 
 all is gold, marble and Mosaic ; and the churches 
 are so gorgeously arrayed, that the mind is almost 
 surfeited with splendor ; such is the strong con- 
 trast that modern Rome presents. 
 
 I have seen in all its parts St. Peter's. It 
 swells on all sides, by visiting it minutely. I do 
 not think the smallness of its first appearance 
 on entering arises from proportion, but that you 
 see the whole at once ; so the eye that is used to 
 multiply into a nave, choir, and chapel, our Gothic 
 churches, finds its expectations end too quickly, by 
 seeing at once the termination of the building. 
 The outer effect is far inferior to St. Paul's, not- 
 withstanding the advantage of its magnificent 
 colonnade ; within, it is all fresh and glorious, and 
 is a canopy under which even Angels might 
 repose, and lose little of their celestial glory. 
 Perhaps 
 
 The lengthened isles and windows dight 
 Shedding a dim religious light,
 
 320 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 which we have in our churches, York particularly, 
 might better suit their dignified solemnity. I have 
 had the Pope's benediction in it, and been sprin- 
 kled with holy water. 
 
 The paper draws short — one word of Italy. 
 Whether it ever was the garden of the world, 
 or may now be made so, I am sure it is not so at 
 present, and is exceeded by most parts of France. 
 The Romans described the best situations their 
 country admitted of, ac I mean to prove from 
 Anxur, &c. We have fancied them the best 
 in the world; perhaps I saw the Tropics first, 
 which, as England is the granary, are really the 
 paradise of the globe. Orange, myrtle, and pome- 
 granate groves sound well, because they are exotic ; 
 but most of the Campania felice is calcined, and 
 white as ashes ; and not a blade of grass clothes 
 the hill that surrounds the gorgeous bay of Na- 
 ples. All these things I hope to explain to you 
 more fully over our tire-side in the winter, of 
 which we have here no approach ; as I yesterday 
 saw a party dining al fresco on a cold collation, 
 on a bank covered with daisies under the mauso- 
 leum of the wife of Crassus. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Yours ever, E. D.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 321 
 
 Dear Polwhele, Exeter, 1792. 
 
 Herewith accept the " Wasp Petition," and the 
 " Punning Will." If in any miscellany you may 
 think these papers worthy of a place, they are at 
 your service. 
 
 Ever yours, E. Drewe. 
 
 To the Printer of the St. James's Chronicle. 
 
 Written in I769. 
 Sir, 
 
 As the rage of petitioning every day increases, 
 it would appear unpardonable, if so antient and 
 respectable a town as this of Gotham should omit 
 joining in the cry. But it would be equally un- 
 pardonable (since we have hitherto been remark- 
 able for the singularity of our proceedings) should 
 we urge the same hackneyed grievances which 
 half the nation have already complained of, and 
 not rather strike out some new grievance, suffi- 
 ciently original, whereon to build a petition con- 
 sistent with the antient oddity of our conduct. 
 An opportunity has, at length, presented itself, 
 which we have eagerly embraced. 
 
 A paragraph lately appeared in the London 
 Chronicle, complaining of the great damage done 
 to the kingdom in general by Wasps ; and as the 
 parish of Gotham has by no means been less a 
 sufferer than other parishes, and has severely felt 
 the devastations of these dreadful insects, the
 
 522 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Committee of Grievances and Apprehensions esta- 
 blished in this town have thought this nuisance 
 sufficient ground-work for erecting the following 
 petition. But as we are willing that it should be 
 correct, and as free from exceptionable passages as 
 possible before it meets the royal ear, we beg 
 leave, through your paper, to lay it before the pub- 
 lick ; entreating it to deal candidly by us ; and in 
 return, through the same vehicle, convey us any 
 strictures either on the sense or language, that 
 though last, it may not be least, and appear every 
 way equal to the credit and singularity of Gotham. 
 We are, Sir, your most humble servants, 
 
 GOTHAMATICI *. 
 
 The Petition of the Committee of Grievances and 
 Apprehensions, at Gotham. 
 
 To THE King's Most Excellent Majesty. 
 May it Please Your Majesty, 
 
 We, your true and loyal subjects. Members of 
 the Committee of Grievances and Apprehensions, 
 at Gotham, impressed with a due sense of your 
 Majesty's goodness and humanity, in redressing 
 the grievances, and quieting the doleful appre- 
 hensions of your people, presume to throw our- 
 selves at your royal feet, relying on that justice id 
 
 * There is much humour in this letter. The number of 
 Addresses and Petitions in \7G9 is almost incredible. See Dods- 
 ky's Annual Registtr, 

 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 323 
 
 right our complaints, which has hitherto so dis- 
 tinguishingly marked your conduct. 
 
 It is with the deepest concern, and most lament- 
 able anxiety of heart, that we are under the miser- 
 able necessity of adding to the numberless griev- 
 ances which have been already complained of; yet 
 a grievance tending to disfigure the faces of your 
 Majesty's loyal subjects, will not be thought un- 
 worthy of royal redress. 
 
 Be it known then to your Majesty, that tliis, 
 our parish of Gotham, has been lately punished 
 with a plague scarcely inferior to an Egyptian ; 
 the instrument of vengeance being an insect with 
 a deadly pestiferous sting, commonly called a 
 Wasp. And that these Wasps do greatly annoy 
 your Majesty's loyal subjects, by disfiguring their 
 faces, hands, and other uncovered parts of their 
 bodies, by raising numerous boils, and pestilential 
 blotches with their spears. 
 
 And whereas, we have tried every method to 
 destroy these, the enemies of your Majesty and 
 people, with clay, sulphur, straw, and other such 
 instruments of destruction, without having been 
 able by any of these means to remove this griev- 
 ance ; and are, moreover, under the most doleful 
 apprehensions, lest the increase of these Wasps 
 should be further detrimental to the beauty of your 
 Majesty's faithful subjects ; and having from fre- 
 quent observation, remarked that these your Ma- 
 jesty's enemies are chiefly resident in fruit-gardens, 
 apple-orchards, corn-fields, meadows, and other 
 such places of shelter j we your Majesty's loyal sub- 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 jects, nothing doubting your love for your people, 
 and anxiety to redress any further grievance, and 
 quiet every doleful apprehension, presume to 
 make the following humble request. 
 
 That your Majesty, out of your gracious will 
 and pleasure, and to promote the convenience and 
 happiness of the realm in general, as well as of 
 this our parish of Gotham, would be pleased to 
 order the immediate destruction of all * fruit-gar- 
 dens, apple-orchards, corn-fields, meadows, and 
 other such detrimental conveniences, as may in 
 any sort afford shelter to these your Majesty's 
 enemies. 
 
 And we, moreover, think it highly necessary, 
 that your Majesty out of your great goodness 
 would be pleased to station detachments from the 
 Militia appointed for the defence of these your 
 Majesty's realms, headed by gallant and able offi- 
 cers, in such parts of your dominions as are most 
 infested with Wasps, as well as in this our parish, 
 who may prevent the increase of these your Ma- 
 jesty's enemies, and be in some measure useful, 
 by destroying with fire and sword these pes- 
 tiferous insects, to the quieting of the grievances, 
 and removing the doleful apprehensions, of your 
 Majesty's faithful subjects. 
 
 And your petitioners shall ever prayf-. 
 
 * Dissolve the Parliament, i, e. prop the constitution by strik-^ 
 ing ofiF one of its greatest pillars. Well done John Bull ! 
 
 t The year 1769 had been remarkable for Wasps. — So has 
 been the year 1823. — A shilling was oflfered by a gentleman who 
 resides near Truro, for every Wasp's nest destroyed by the labourers 
 on his farm ; and he was astonished to find the claims upon his 
 purse amounting to more than seven pounds.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 325 
 
 Major Drewe to Captain C. in ridicule of Lieu- 
 tenant R. a notorious punster. 
 Sir, 
 Lieut. R-. of punning memory, is lately deceased, 
 and as he has made you his executor, I hereby 
 transmit yotj-his will. Sometime before his death, 
 being seized with a sudden qualm of conscience, 
 which neither his vivacity nor the reflections on 
 the many excellent improvements he had made in 
 the art of punning could alleviate, he sent for a 
 lawyer, who being seated, with all his implements 
 ready, our friend began in his usual style, thus : 
 " As my opinion is well founded, that as I am not 
 well, I shall be found dead. And, as I have 
 slighted that Gospel which, when a boy, with my 
 slight head I used to go spell; for which I fear 
 that my soul will flounder in Erebus ; and that it 
 will plaice God to goad me with his displeasure, 
 unless my dice I play sure, and am willing to trust 
 my IVill in your hands — I desire, Mr. Morgan, as 
 you wish for 7nore gain, that you will write with- 
 out preamble what I shall dictate ; and I will beg 
 as a witness my friend Dick Tate. Ha Dick ?" 
 Here our friend was stopped from proceeding by 
 an immoderate fit of laughing, which was occa- 
 sioned by his finding a wonderful analogy between 
 the question Ha Dick ? and the name of a sea 
 fish called an haddick; but after some minutes, 
 having been recovered by the strength of cordials, 
 and Morgan having resumed his pen, he went on 
 as follows : " Item, I give and bequeath to my
 
 3Q6 traditions and recollections. 
 
 friend the Honey Muse, Captain Gall, who, be- 
 cause he is musicall, a Muse I call, all my miisick, 
 hoping it will not make his Muse sich, but set him 
 an hopping.''' Here the Attorney stopped short, 
 amazed at the strangeness of the language ; but 
 our friend, with a smile of self exultation that 
 diffused an additional glow over his countenance, 
 asked him, if he did not take him * ? and then 
 triumphantly proceeded to point out the similarity 
 between Honey and Gall, musicall and Muse I 
 call, hoping and hopping ; but on the quill-driver's 
 instantly confessing his own want of apprehension, 
 thus resumed his discourse : " Item, I give and 
 bequeath to the Lieutenants of the 35th regiment 
 all my real estate, that they may be worth a real, 
 and really have something to rely on, and no 
 longer be obliged to live tenant. 
 
 And as in this worldly lottery I have had a lot 
 awry, as ive go I beg to ^eak a word about Os- 
 wego, where I made an Epaulment^, that did ter- 
 ribly appall men — Ha, ha, ha, haugh, haugh." Here 
 he fell into a second fit of laughing, from which in 
 about an hour's time he might probably have re- 
 covered, had he not unluckily, as he pronounced 
 the sounds ha, ha, recollected that the graves re- 
 sembled in shape that modern ditch called an Ha, 
 Ha : his fit returned with redoubled violence, and 
 he expired in about ten minutes laughing violently, 
 
 * A common expression of our hero's. 
 
 t He used to boast of a slight fortification he had erected 
 when on detachment at Oswego. 
 
 1
 
 COIIRESPONDENCE. 3^7 
 
 and by starts exclaiming, " grave, ditch, admira- 
 ble, and ha, ha.** 
 
 Thus fell, as he lived, W. R. He was by far 
 the greatest punster of his age. And having 
 arrived at that matchless perfection in punning, 
 the art of being entirely incomprehensible to all 
 inferior wits, he fell like the Theban in the midst 
 of victory, triumphing over taste, common sense, 
 and the purity of the English language. 
 
 Mr. Morgan, who flike all who had ever ap- 
 proached this prodigy of punning) had caught 
 some little of the celestial fire of his patron, 
 ordered him to be buried decently, that he might 
 decent lie, and the following grave epitaph to be 
 engraved on his grave stone. 
 
 Epitaph. 
 
 Here R y lies. In Punning quaint and witty. 
 
 Whom Mors has laid in tomb, the more 's the pity. 
 From earth, this man ^ punnish, and so clever. 
 Mors, men to punish, took away for ever. 
 
 Yet wail him not j again your R y view ; 
 
 Rejoice, ye Punsters ; R y lives in Drewe. 
 
 Mr. Temple to R. P. relative to the " Cornwall 
 Library''' 
 
 Sir, St. Gluvias, January 15, 1793. 
 
 I am much obliged to you for your remarks, 
 and hope soon to be favoured with the hints you 
 promise us. The committee will avail themselves
 
 328 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 of your polite offer with regard to the purchase of 
 books. You shall have a list of what we have got, 
 and of what we intend to purchase. Your recom- 
 mendation of any particular books will also be 
 attended to. I thought the inclosed pamphlet 
 might be of use in promoting the success of the 
 Library among the Clergy, and in discouraging the 
 pernicious opinions that are so industriously cir- 
 culated. 
 
 I am, Sir, your obedient servant, 
 
 W. J. Temple *. 
 
 A. B. to Dr. DowNMAN. 
 
 Sir, London, Feb. 14, 1793. 
 
 As I was reading the paper a few evenings since 
 at the Turk's-head Colfee-house, my attention was 
 taken up by the conversation of two gentlemen in 
 the adjoining box, upon the subject of literary 
 publications. After mentioning the works of 
 several authors, one of them said, "I see the 
 Monthly Review gives a great character to some 
 plays of Downman's of Exeter." "Does it?" 
 said the other — " have you met with them your- 
 self?" " No." *' If you do, kick them out of 
 
 * The author of that memoir of Gray which Johnson and 
 Mason unite in praising. He is the author, also, of a volume of 
 Essays, and of a little pamphlet on Jacobinism, noticed in the 
 above letter. Resident afterwards at Manaccaii in the neigh- 
 bourhood of St. Gluvias, I lost no time in cultivating Mr. 
 Temple's acquaintance.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 329 
 
 your way, or *******^* with them ; for 
 # * * * me, if ever the man wrote a line of poetry 
 in his life. There are a parcel of mud-headed 
 fellows down in that country, who write the **** 
 things ever were read, which they have the impu- 
 dence to call poems. There is a little spitting 
 toad of a parson, and a blustering son of Mars, 
 who write and review their own nonsense. Down- 
 man and several of them have got hold of Wil- 
 liams, and they are likewise intimate with that 
 old Scotch son of a * * * * in Fleet-street ; but 
 their career is almost over. A new society of 
 Reviewers will soon make their appearance, and 
 will lay all their impositions before the publick. I 
 intend giving them a lash or two on reviewing 
 their own works. There is one devilish clever 
 fellow, however, among them, who has more genius 
 and understanding than all the rest put together — 
 I mean Kendal. He ia the son of an architect 
 at Exeter. Take out him and Polwhele, and the 
 . others are only fit to be ***** upon." — Here I 
 was called out of the room, by a friend, on busi- 
 ness. I do not recollect having ever seen either 
 of these gentlemen before. One of them was a 
 thin man, of a pale complexion, about forty. The 
 other, who seemed to condemn every thing with- 
 out mercy, was a set fat man *, of a dark com- 
 plexion, who appeared to be five or six and fifty, 
 or more. He swore most abominably. Under- 
 standing you to be a man of character in your 
 
 * Dr. Wolcot.
 
 330 TRADITIONS AND KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 profession, and having received some pleasure in 
 reading your poem on Infancy, I think it proper 
 to put you on your guard, though I can scarcely 
 think that any author of reputation can con- 
 descend to such a pitiful meanness, as this gentle- 
 man asserted. 
 
 Yours, &c. A. B. 
 
 J. W. to R. P. 
 
 My Dear Sir, Thursday, Feb. 14, 1793. 
 
 It was with great pain that I heard of a mourn- 
 ful event which has happened in your family. I 
 feel very keenly for you. I feel also for those 
 that are too young yet to know the extent of their 
 loss. May Religion, my dear Sir, be your support 
 under a calamity which nothing but Religion can 
 support ! May you feel that ray of Heaven dart- 
 ing into your soul to cheer you in this gloomy 
 hour, and to make you live for the sake of the pre- 
 sent and the rising generation. 
 
 If any thing could soften the severity of such 
 a dispensation, I should comfort myself with the 
 report, that you are now come to Truro in order 
 to settle there. If this is true, I shall be glad of 
 it. I have long wished you to be in this neigh- 
 bourhood, for both our sakes. Men of congenial 
 minds, and partly of congenial studies, studious of 
 letters, fond of writing, and always writing in 
 order to publish, should be near to each other. 
 And, so near as Truro and Ruan, the two candles 
 will often mingle lights, and burn each the brighter.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. , 331 
 
 I beg, my dear Sir, to hear from you by my 
 man, to hear how you are, and to know how you 
 mean to settle yourself. I take a lively interest 
 in your fortunes, and remain with Mrs. W.'s com- 
 pliments, my dear Sir, your affectionate friend, 
 
 John Whitaker. 
 
 Lines on the Death of Mrs. P. by Dr. Downman. 
 
 Could magic verse recal the fleeted breath. 
 
 The lyre, sweet wai'bling, charm the ear of Death, 
 
 Thy husband, tuning his Orphean strain, 
 
 Might lure thee to the bower of Love again. 
 
 But thou, chaste soul ! for highest bliss designed. 
 
 He knows, art present with the eternal mind. 
 
 Hence, doomed to silence, sleeps his harp unstrung, 
 
 Controul'd each thought sublime, and mute his tongue. 
 
 Why join the sainted spirit to its clod ? 
 
 Why sever the pure essence from its God ? 
 
 Dr. Downman to R. P. 
 My Dear Friend, Exeter, Feb. 16, 1793. 
 
 Without entering on your feelings, or mine for 
 you, which can be better conceived than express- 
 ed, I have paid some attention to your affairs, 
 though perhaps not all that I ought. I have sent 
 six copies of your sermon to the Bishop, with a 
 letter explanatory of circumstances; this I thought 
 essentially necessary. One copy in confidence I 
 gave to A. D. Moore, who expresses himself 
 much pleased with it both as to sentiments and 
 composition.
 
 332 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 You have determined very rightly to come 
 here ; had there been occasion, I should have in- 
 culcated it by every means in my power ; not on 
 my own account, for the pleasure of your society 
 I could give up for your advantage, but because 
 I am convinced you ought not to hide yourself in 
 Cornwall ; and because your duty to the public 
 and your own honour require that you should 
 finish your work. I am glad indeed, however 
 troublesome, you have that work on your hands ; 
 it will shorten the tediousness, fill up the vacuity 
 of time, and in some degree abstract your thoughts, 
 if not amuse. Resignation I know you have j 
 comfort and satisfaction can only proceed from 
 the longa dies^ and a superior power. You shall 
 have a bed, and a room where no mixed company 
 shall intrude on you. Let me know when you 
 intend to come. Suffer me on this occasion to 
 say to you, that I truly value your worth, and, 
 independent of literary or mental qualifications, 
 that goodness of heart which alone could ever 
 command my friendship. My wife joins in the 
 most affectionate good wishes, with yours, most 
 sincerely, H. Downman. 
 
 Bishop BuLLER^o Dr. Downman. 
 
 Dear Sir, Lower Grosvenor-street, Feb. 22, 1793, 
 
 I have read Mr. Polwhele's sermon, which was 
 
 sent to me by your direction with great pleasure, 
 
 as the work of a man of parts and learning, writ-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 333 
 
 ten with great animation, and well calculated to 
 do good in the present times, when we are unhap- 
 pily obliged to engage in that bad thing, war, and 
 to fight with desperate madmen. It is to be 
 feared that this country has some enemies within 
 its own bosom, but I flatter myself that we shall 
 be benefactors to the world by bearing a principal 
 part in stemming the torrent of French anarchy, 
 and surely nothing can be more adverse to the 
 liberty of mankind than the present state of that 
 country. 
 
 The author's dedication is very kind to one who 
 knows himself well enough to think he has no 
 claim to be so distinguished, but who will make 
 the best use of the benevolence and partiality of 
 his countrymen, by bearing it constantly in his 
 mind, and endeavouring to make himself more 
 worthy of such favour. My wife and family join 
 in best compliments to yourself and Mrs. Down- 
 man. I am, dear Sir, your most obedient and 
 
 faithful humble servant, 
 
 William Exeter. 
 
 The Rev. Prehendary Swete to R. P. 
 
 My dear Sir, Oxton-house, Feb. 24, 1793. 
 
 I received great pleasure in the communication 
 of your health, and returning calmness of mind ? 
 The detail of business in your letter gave confirma- 
 tion to your expressions, and I rejoice (as doth
 
 334< TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Mrs. S.) that the poignancy of your distress hatli 
 begun to feel some abatement ! To find your 
 spirits somewhat revived, and your thoughts at 
 intervals collected, is as much as your most san- 
 guine friends can have any present expectation 
 of; to time only, the great comforter, we must 
 leave the summum mall remedium^ but even this 
 may be assisted ; we may accelerate the cure ; and 
 I am very happy to learn that you are disposed to 
 adopt the plan which hath a likely tendency to 
 give you the readiest aid. A mind in distress 
 should have no leisure to ponder on its sorrows ; 
 it should be fully occupied, it matters not with 
 what, so that it be interesting ; it should assume 
 some engagements, and be totus in illis. Your 
 returning to us, and plunging deeply into your 
 History (that great w^ork, which, if it brings you 
 not emolument, though I trust it will not in this 
 point be defective, will give you fame, and erect 
 for you a monument ^^cere perennius^^^') will I doubt 
 not be found the happiest expedient. As to your 
 continuance in the curacy of Kenton, and your 
 fixing yourself; of these, and other similar mat- 
 ters I w^ould dismiss all thoughts during your stay 
 in Cornwall, and leave them to be determined when 
 you are again amongst us. I have been to day 
 much shocked, having learnt (after morning ser- 
 vice) from Mrs. Cooke, that our friend Drewe had 
 been taken off by a fit of epilepsy. At the Soci- 
 ety (Thursday se'nnight) he struck me as being 
 astonishingly altered ; he imputed the change in 
 
 1
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 335 
 
 his appearance to a bad cold, which had confined 
 him for some weeks. After he had left us, how- 
 ever (and he took himself off very early), Down- 
 man, Hole, and others, coincided in the opinion, 
 that his looks were * ominous,' and that they fore- 
 boded an early dissolution. He was, poor fellow ! 
 
 remarkably captious with , and being sulky 
 
 at our denying him a patient ear, expressed him- 
 self in some such manner aside to the President, 
 and quitted us rather abruptly. 
 
 fJF ^ ;^ ^ ^ ^ ^ tF 
 
 Yours very affectionately, John Swete. 
 
 C. T. to R. P. 
 
 My Dear Sir, Asiiiii, 1793. 
 
 It has been remarked by Paley, with much 
 truth, though with little elegance, that " Man is 
 a bundle of habits." I find it by experience ; 
 and amongst the habits of which I am composed, 
 there is a very evil one of procrastination ; espe- 
 cially with respect to circumstances of a disagree- 
 able nature. What it gives me pain to perform, 
 I am always ready to postpone ; and this, my 
 dear friend, must account to you, if not apologize 
 for my long silence respecting that severe trial 
 with which it has pleased God to visit you. It is 
 our comfort to know that we are in his hands ; 
 but the steady recollection of this great truth is 
 too apt to forsake us when we need it most.
 
 336 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Every thing that can offer itself to a reflecting 
 mind upon such an occasion, has, I doubt not, en- 
 gaged your thoughts. It would therefore be idle 
 and impertinent to intrude upon you with topics 
 of consolation, the strength and the weakness of 
 which you have already experienced. Permit me, 
 however, whilst I assure you of my sincerest sym- 
 pathy, to mention an observation of Bishop New- 
 ton, when he had suffered a similar loss ; which is, 
 that he was engaged at the time in writing his 
 dissertations ; "and happy" (he says) it was for 
 him ; for in any affliction he never found a better 
 or more effectual remedy than plunging deep into 
 study, and fixing his thoughts as intensely as he 
 possibly could upon other subjects." 
 
 I hope your great work goes on successfully, 
 and I heartily wish you health and patience to 
 complete it. 
 
 A venerable old gentleman has just put into 
 my hands no less than three MSS. which he has 
 thoughts of committing to the press. One is 
 an exposition of the Apocalypse, and the other 
 two are on such abstruse subjects that they sur- 
 pass my comprehension. But to the author it is 
 all as clear as the light. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, with affectionate regard, very 
 sincerely yours, C. T.
 
 337 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Section I. 
 
 Residence in Exeter. 
 
 '' Philosophy, with the aid of Religion, soon re- 
 conciled Mr. P. to the loss of his wife ;" and at 
 Exeter, pitching his tent near his Paul-street 
 friends (Downman and Jones), he resumed his 
 History *. 
 
 Section H. 
 
 Letters from Mr. Jones, the Bishop of Cork, 
 
 8sc. §c. 
 
 Epistle to Archdeacon Moore. 
 
 Gandy's-lane, Exeter, 1793. 
 
 with what cordial pleasure, to refresh 
 The drooping spirit, my venerable friend ! 
 
 1 ponder over " the sweet hour of prime," 
 When to my trembling Muse thy smile vouchsafed 
 
 * See Public Characters, p. 268. 
 z
 
 338 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 The gracious aid, and bade me far aspire 
 Above the vulgar flight of new-fledg'd bards* ; 
 What time along the banks of Fal f I traced 
 My steps beside thee, and its various scene — 
 Creek after creek unfolding to the view. 
 Described — familiar to my boyish days. 
 
 'Twas then, two other reverend priests, whose age 
 Had with assiduous care my rising youth 
 Screen'd from corruption, to thy cultur'd mind 
 Look'd for rich stores of intellectual worth ; 
 And I, the young aspirer, now from one, 
 Now from another, seem'd to catch the words 
 Of Wisdom ! — Pleasant as the spicy breath 
 Of Hadramut — O pleasant as the rose 
 Of Sharon, were those moments ! — They are gone ! 
 But they have left a fragrance to restore 
 My fainting soul, e'en now, to life and light, 
 Tho' widow'd sorrow, to the pathless wild. 
 Point thro' pale gloom my solitary way. 
 
 Yet, had not still thine hand sustain'd thy voice. 
 Still cheer'd me, I had sunk, long since, a prey 
 To calumny. Full oft an envious imp 
 Assail'd me, but his impotence, by thee 
 Repell'd — a specious bubble, disappear'd. 
 And thine, united with a Downman's praise. 
 Bade o'er the historic chaplet (guerdon fair 
 Of patient toil) the wreath of poesy 
 With livelier tincture — brighter lustre bloom t ■ 
 
 * Such was his encouraging voice. But then there was no 
 Campbell, no Southey, no Coleridge. 
 
 f At his Truro Visitation. 
 
 X The above Epistle to Archdeacon Moore was an effusion of 
 gratitude, in consequence of his truly paternal attentions after 
 my wife's death, I soon left Truro, hastening to Exeter, in 
 order to superintend the press at Trewman's. There I enjoyed 
 the society of my old friends ; in addition to whom, the benevo- 
 lent Dr. Harvey, who lived opposite to my lodgings in Gandy's- 
 lane, must not be forgotten. But I had lost Major Drewe ! — In
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 339 
 
 J. Jones to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, Temple, Saturday-night, 1793. 
 
 On the next leaf you have such an account of 
 Athelstan, and of that King's abode in Exeter, 
 as I have been able to collect. My father never 
 found any coins, or other remains of antiquity on 
 this spot. One thing indeed I have forborne to 
 mention ; that is, that he found a vault well walled 
 round, and arched over, with a small aperture on 
 the top. The use of this vault is obvious, but it 
 is worthy remark that my father never found but 
 one or two instances of such a convenience in 
 the whole course of his business, in ancient houses, 
 and these were in very respectable mansions. I 
 beg you would not laugh at my vault — Nichols 
 would leap out of his skin for joy, at the acquisi- 
 tion of such a drawing and description as I would 
 make of this venerable cloaca for his Magazine, 
 and I would engage to swell a dissertation upon 
 it to four good columns of his letter-press. It is 
 a circumstance which undoubtedly speaks to the 
 antiquity of the place, though I conclude you 
 will not chuse to state it to the publick. 
 
 By the merest accident I met with Sir Philip 
 Warwick, after having regularly called at every 
 bookseller's that lay in my walks about town. I 
 have put my name in the book, as I collect every 
 
 his genius what bursts of wild originality ! It was the very 
 genius to go off in epilepsy ! — My friend Sheldon's was equally 
 eccentric, though of a different complexion ; and Sheldon died 
 suddenly. 
 
 Z 2
 
 340 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 treatise that relates to English History, and shall, 
 in time, form a complete historical library, the 
 only department in literature that I ever mean to 
 sound to its full depth. However, if you shall 
 want it after it has served your purpose for mak- 
 ing extracts, by all means keep it. In Warwick's 
 words — ^' I make you a complete vendition of it;" 
 it is an entertaining book — Hume, I observe, has 
 availed himself of it. 
 
 I remain, dear Sir, faithfully yours, 
 
 J. Jones. 
 
 Mr. Sheldon takes charge of this other book. 
 
 P. S. Have you ever seen Dr. Veryard's Tra- 
 vels, printed in folio, London, I7OI, with a long 
 title, and dedicated to the " Worshipful Thomas 
 Drew, Esq." brother of an Archdeacon of Corn- 
 wall of that name ? Copies of this work are very 
 common in Devonshire, from which circumstance, 
 as well as from the dedication, I suspect Veryard 
 to have been an Exeter man. I have met with 
 few books of travels more entertaining or better 
 written. I recollect, from the everlasting repe- 
 tition of the word " divers,'' some ladies at a house 
 where I passed a day gave the book the name 
 of divers, and during my stay there, their chief 
 amusement consisted in marking a line with a 
 pencil under every " Divers," and I believe their 
 collection amounted to some thousands before 
 they got to the end of the book. All hands were 
 at work in this agreeable employment, and I was 
 consequently excluded from all conversation dur-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 341 
 
 ing the process. I became absolutely irritated, 
 seized Divers, and threw him upon the roof of the 
 house, where he was safely lodged in a lead gutter, 
 and there, I believe, remains to this day. 
 
 Sportive Lines, written, currente calamo, on the Palace of King 
 Athelstan, in possession 0/ Jones the Architect, in Comj-lane, 
 now Paul-street, Exeter. 
 
 Say, gentle Jones * ! if o'er this town we range. 
 
 And view the fleeting owners of its domes j 
 How sad in all the buildings is the change 
 
 From kings to lords, from lords, perchance, to grooms ! 
 Here mighty mansions are made mercers' shops ! 
 
 There butchers, ancient fabrics to profane. 
 Beneath a Roman arch sell mutton-chops ! 
 
 — But let us fix our views to Corry-lane. 
 " A little tottering house " here " fronts St. Paul's ;" 
 
 (So Stukeley says or sings) " with niches deckt !" 
 But lo, no more a crumbling fragment falls. 
 
 Awed by the presence of an architect. 
 In short, this house belong'd to Athelstan, 
 
 " A royal palace built with large square stones ;" 
 But now, 'tis fashion'd on a prettier plan, 
 
 Possest at length by thee, O gentle Jones ! 
 
 The Bishop of Cork to R. P. 
 
 Sir, Dublin, 1793. 
 
 I have been favoured with your answer to my 
 letter, and am much obliged to you for the po- 
 lite sentiments it contains. I fear I shall not be 
 able to find much countenance to your proposals 
 
 * Son of the architect, a well-favoured youth, a lad of parts, 
 a patient cjuill-driver, A.SS.
 
 342 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 in this distant country ; but I beg you would put 
 down my name among your subscribers — Dr. 
 Bennett Bishop of Cork. I mention the family 
 name, because we change our sees in this country 
 more frequently than you are accustomed in 
 England. 
 
 I hope, from your taste and abilities, to see a 
 History of Devonshire well executed: at the same 
 time you must expect to be violently attacked at 
 your first appearance, and will have I trust the 
 good sense to despise all cavils. It is the fate of 
 County Histories more than any others, to meet 
 this treatment. I know Devonshire well enough 
 to know there is mucli of this spirit in it. One 
 man's place is not said enough of, his neighbour's 
 too much, such a thing contradicts the tradition 
 of one's grandfather, &c. &c. ; but you well know 
 this nonsense dies away before a work of real 
 merit, and I trust you will prove it does before 
 yours. 
 
 I am, Sir, your obedient servant, 
 
 Wm. Cork. 
 
 E. S. to II. P. 
 
 My dear Sir, 1793. 
 
 Please to accept my best tiianks for the plea- 
 sure I received from the favour of your kind let- 
 ter, which came to this place while I was attend- 
 ing at the Encaenia (or, from the behaviour of the 
 young men there, the Insania,) at Oxford.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 3i<5 
 
 ******* 
 
 From the elegant and edifying discourses whicli 
 you published, I always receive a gratification ; 
 and, having adorned my library (or rather small 
 collection of books) with all your present publi- 
 cations, it will be a great object to me to study 
 them. 
 
 ******* 
 
 The pieces of poetry contained in your letter 
 deserve our most hearty acknowledgments, and 
 have given me much entertainment ; the last, ad- 
 dressed to Miss E. S. is particularly pleasing ; 
 and the two others do credit even to Mr. Pol- 
 whele himself; though, at the same time (in a 
 high degree), more than justice to the subject of 
 them ; they are all very picturesque and pathetic. 
 
 My daughter, I am sure, will be very happy to 
 find that you have viewed in so favourable a light 
 her infant sketches, or the rude attempts and faint 
 essays with her pencil *, which she made and re- 
 quested your sanction of. 
 
 J£, 4£, 4^ ^ 4^ •i^ -it* 
 
 •7P T^" TV *«■ -75* •TV* TV* 
 
 P. S. I have lately been with my daughter to 
 our friends Lord and Lady Hampden, at their seat 
 in Bedfordshire. The mania of the day in those 
 parts seems to be hunting ; the prices given for 
 horses in the Duke of Bedford's, Lady Salisbury's, 
 and Lord Melbourne's hunts, are astonishing. 
 Six hunters have been sold, three for ^1050; 
 the other three for ^1200; and Mr. Whitbread, 
 
 * See an Engraving of Chudleigh-rock, very inferior to the 
 Drawing.
 
 344 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 jun. would not take (and, as I understood, had 
 refused) ^1000 for his hunter; and from one 
 to two hundred pounds was said to be the com- 
 mon estimated value of each horse among them ; 
 so that one would think there was no want of 
 resources to carry on the war, if it should be ne- 
 cessary. 
 
 Yours truly, E. S. 
 
 Dr. DowNMAN to R. P. 
 
 My Dear Friend, Exeter, Nov. \6, 1793. 
 
 I find you were not at the last meeting, which 
 was very ill attended, only four members being 
 present ; two indeed were absent on a melancholy 
 occasion — Mrs. Parr's illness. 
 
 I talked with the Bishop a good while about a 
 
 fortnight ago concerning you ; he said many kind 
 
 things of you, and said he should subscribe five 
 
 guineas for a small plate, which I suppose he has 
 
 done, and handsomely apologized for not giving 
 
 more. Archdeacon Moore has likewise mentioned 
 
 his calling to pay the subscription of the Chapter 
 
 at Trewman's, but it was not done, as he had wo 
 
 receipts. He said he would try the Chapter for a 
 
 plate, but could not promise success. It is good 
 
 to be in the memory of such men, and I write to 
 
 you now to acquaint you that they both interest 
 
 themselves about your welfare. Mr. Moore has 
 
 the disposal of the curacy of Exmouth from Mr. 
 
 Simons, and offers it to you.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 345 
 
 He is so kind as to think that with your abilities, 
 style of preaching, &c. you may much increase 
 the profits. If you go there, hy all means call on 
 Mr. Eyre^ and acquaint him with the offer which 
 has been made you, and your intent to accept it. 
 
 Coming from the quarter it does, I do not see 
 how it can be refused, without your immediately 
 waiting on both, and giving those satisfactory 
 reasons which determine you against it ; and this 
 from the circumstances you will not delay. 
 
 I am, in much haste, most sincerely yours, 
 
 H. DOWNMAN. 
 
 Archdeacon Moore to R. P. 
 Dear Sir, 1*93 
 
 I had this morning your favour of the 25th, 
 which I have since communicated to my good 
 friend Mr. Simons. He is very much pleased with 
 your acceptance of the curacy, and will write to 
 his friends at Exmouth to do his part in preparing 
 every thing there for your reception upon the foot- 
 ing to which your character and abilities so justly 
 entitled you. 
 
 I shall be extremely obliged by the favour of 
 your company. I dine at a quarter before four ; 
 but to avoid a disappointment I hope you will 
 call at an earlier hour of the day. 
 
 I am, with very sincere respect, and all good 
 wishes, Sir, your faithful humble servant, 
 
 Geo. Moore. 
 
 I am under obligations to you, which I am now 
 in too much haste to express.
 
 346 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 H. D. to R. p. 
 My dear Friend, 1793. 
 
 Have you met with Dr. Valpy's " Two Assize 
 Sermons,'* just published ? — Perhaps not. For 
 your amusement, therefore, I have brought to- 
 gether some passages from these Sermons and 
 your Discourses. The coincidencies in sentiment, 
 and even in expression, will surprise you. Yet I 
 by no means accuse the Doctor of plagiarism. 
 Yours, in haste, H. D. 
 
 The parallel passages are as follow : 
 
 " That the world is in a state of constant and regular degene- 
 racy (says Dr. Valpy), and that eveiy age is inferior to the pre- 
 ceding in sentiments of virtue, and in religious practice — moral- 
 ists have established as a principle — the error has become general." 
 Page 2. — " That the world grows worse (says Mr. Polwhele) in 
 proportion as it grows old, hath been a common complaint from 
 the time of Homer to the present day. To the eye of the multi- 
 tude every new generation of men seems marked with some strik- 
 ing defects before unknown — the criteria of degeneracy, and the 
 presages of ruin. To superficial minds the declension of learning 
 and of virtue appears too plain a fact to be proved by demon- 
 stration. But, what is most surprising, the learned and intelligent 
 join the general voice, and industriously proclaim to the disgrace 
 of their contemporaries, the increasing ignorance and viciousness 
 of the times." P. 191. 
 
 " To account for this discouraging opinion, it may be observed, 
 that the acts of injustice and iniquity, of which we are the wit- 
 nesses or the victims, strike us much more forcibly than those 
 of which we only read the effects, imperfectly and partially 
 described." Valpy, p. 2. — " The vices which they see are more 
 striking than those which they remember. In vain would they 
 find parallels in the times over which they fondly brood, to match 
 the glaring instances of iniquity that are daily inspiring them
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 34)7 
 
 with horror. In their speculation on former times they find 
 nothing to affect their quiet, or endanger their safety. Tims, 
 whether the experienced compare their own observations with 
 the records of history, or consider the objects which forcibly 
 strike their senses, in opposition to what they feebly collect 
 from memory, they are ever disposed to think better of their 
 predecessors than their contemporaries." Polwhele, p. 195. 
 
 " It is difficult to rise so far above the prejudices of education 
 as to reprove the manners of ancient Greece and Rome. From 
 our early youth we have imbibed, in the writers of those cele- 
 brated states, an admiration for the heroic deeds which they 
 describe. Our hearts have glowed with the flame of liberty at 
 the contemplation of a Brutus or a Leonidas. Our sensibilities 
 have been awakened by the characters of an Aristides and a Cato ; 
 and we have formed higher conceptions of the dignity of human 
 nature from the virtues of a Titus or an Epaminondas." Valpy, 
 p. 14. — "' But the prejudices of the learned in favour of antiquity 
 disqualify them for a task which others are incapable of under- 
 taking. For his stores of knowledge, the scholar is chiefly in- 
 debted to the ancients. From a school-boy he hath been taught 
 to venerate the classic writers as shedding a glory over Greece 
 and Rome. From a child he hath imbibed the pagan morals. 
 To Socrates or to Minos he hath looked up as to splendid 
 examples of philosophical and political wisdom ; and he hath 
 regarded the warriors of Marathon or Phillppi as the models of 
 heroic virtue. On reviewing classic scenes, he connects with 
 them the years of puerility, when they first were opened to his 
 gay and vivid fancy." Polwl^le, p. 193. 
 
 " On the first Inhabitants of the world it is painful to dwell. 
 Without wounding your imagination with the crimes and the 
 fate of the flourishing cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, we may 
 observe, that the truest feature with which the primitive ages 
 can be delineated is, that they displayed vice in all its deformity. 
 Led by the hand of the Almighty, the Jews, it might have been 
 supposed, should have been a pattern of moral virtue ; but me- 
 lancholy is the description of their perfidy and ingratitude. — 
 The history of the Jews presents the most horrible spectacles, 
 and the most bloody catastrophes." Valpy, p. 9. — "I shall not 
 go back to the infancy of the world for a view of large and popu-
 
 3^18 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 lous cities, where scarcely any righteous persons were to be found ; 
 I shall not mark them abandoned to the most unnatural crimes, 
 and drawing down destruction from on high. Were we only to 
 glance over the history of the Jews, a race selected from the na- 
 tions as God's peculiar people, we should be sufficiently shocked 
 by every species of barbarity and profligacy. Though under the 
 immediate direction of God, they were incredulous, obstinate, 
 and cruel. They were repeatedly guilty of incest, of fratricide, 
 of parricide ; and in their punishments they displayed the most 
 brutal disposition." Polwhele, p. 2^9. 
 
 " The Grecian states may be described as a people imperious, 
 gloomy, and perfidious, heedless of the rights of nations, delight- 
 ing in civil massacre, savage in their waifare, and treating their 
 slaves and prisoners as victims devoted to cruelty. By the con- 
 sistent cruelty of the laws of Sparta, it was lawful for a parent 
 to destroy a weak or deformed child." Vulpy, p. 14. — " The best 
 ages of Greece will shrink from a comparison with modern times. 
 The laws of Lycurgus, so repeatedly the theme of oratorical pane- 
 gyric, are little else than a mass of corruption. They are found- 
 ed in false and vicious principles. Among a vaiicty of other bar- 
 barities, they directed the exposure, and consequently the destruc- 
 tion, of such children as were born too delicate or weak for the 
 military functions of a Spartan." Polwhele, p. 233. 
 
 " The republic of Athens, the boast of some modern philoso- 
 phers, was alternately made the scene of the most atrocious 
 tyranny and unbridled anarchy. The conjugal infidelity of the 
 Greeks had become so fashionable, that, in the time of Pericles, 
 almost 5000 Athenian citizens were illegitimate." Valpy,\i. Hi. 
 — " The influence of polite literature on the morals is certainly 
 visible in every community ; and the sages and poets of Athens 
 were generally her best moral men. These, however, were com- 
 paratively few. The great body of the people were a contami- 
 nated mass. Polished as Athens is said to have been, she was 
 very deficient in that pure refinement which includes chasiity 
 and delicacy. Her courtezans were her only women of educa- 
 tion. They were absolutely the only women who were easily ap- 
 proachable by the other sex, who appeared at public places, who 
 adorned and enlivened society by their polite address and spark-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 349 
 
 ling conversation, who presided over the fashions, and influenced 
 the manners." Pohvhele, p. 237- 
 
 " The moral virtues of those civilized nations were, in general, 
 the efifect of ostentation ; and their religion only proved the weak- 
 ness of human reason, when it is unassisted by Revelation, 
 Their very deities were represented as giving the sanction of 
 example to all the vices that degrade the human mind. No 
 period of their history exhibits the Romans as a virtuous nation. 
 We are apt to annex the idea of virtue to frugality and austerity, 
 without reflecting, that in particular ages of all nations, they 
 have been imposed by necessity. They can only deserve the name 
 of virtue, when they are found in a rich and flourishing country." 
 Valpij, p. 6. — " The Romans seem to have blended the sternness 
 of Spartan fortitude with the grossness of Athenian superstition. 
 It is true, they have plumed themselves on illustrious instances of 
 courage, frugality, and temperance ; but these virtues apparently 
 originated in constitutional austerity ; in a haughtiness without 
 dignity, a fastidiousness without sentiment. During the re- 
 publican government, it was natural pride — aloftinesis of spirit — 
 an intolerance that brooked not control — which created the 
 patriot and the warrior. Under the emperors these constitu- 
 tional stamina were gradually enfeebled and destroyed. Litera- 
 ture was not compatible with bravery, nor aflluence with so- 
 briety." Polwhele, p. 240. 
 
 These coincidences, at the same time that they prove a conge- 
 niality of mind, confirm the doctrines maintained by both writers; 
 as men may more readily meet in the way of truth, which is one, 
 than in the paths of error, which are various and infinite.
 
 S50 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Section I. 
 
 Exmout/i, 1794. 
 
 " Mr. P. married a daughter of Captain R. Tyr- 
 rell, of Starcross, and removed to Exmouth, of 
 which he served the cure *." 
 
 This again was a delightful spot. From Ex- 
 mouth, the views of Povvdcrham and Mamhead f-, 
 with the course of the river Exe (to say nothing 
 of the more distant prospect), are beautiful beyond 
 description. 
 
 But we had scarcely settled at Exmouth, intro- 
 duced to Acland, Eyre, and other society of the first 
 respectability, before the good Bishop offered me 
 the vicarage of Manaccan in Cornwall, " not (he 
 said) worthy of my acceptance, but as an earnest 
 for something better." — Its income was scarcely 
 ^.80 a year, and its vicarage-house, a cottage. 
 When I thanked his Lordship for a gift thus unso- 
 licited, — *' I had no person to thank (he observed) 
 but myself ;" and begged that I would continue 
 at Exmouth till I had finished my History J. 
 
 * Public Characters, p, 2/5. 
 
 t See History of Devorf, for plates of Povvderham, and Mam- 
 head. 
 
 I For Hhtory of Devon, vol. II. see British Critic, December 
 1794} and Historical Vievcs, British Critic, March 1794, &c. &c. 
 
 " Polwhele's ' Historical Views,' drew from us, and deserved,
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 351 
 
 Section II. 
 Letters in 1794<. 
 
 J. Jones to R. P. Esq. 
 
 My Dear Sir, Temple, 1794. 
 
 A few days since I bought, at a book-stall, 
 HowePs Familiar Letters, and to save myself the 
 trouble of composing, I will transcribe from him. 
 " Signor Milo, it is now a great while methinks 
 since any act of friendship or other interchange- 
 able offices of love hath passed between us, either 
 by letters or other accustomed ways of corre- 
 spondence ; and as I will not accuse, so I go not 
 about to clear myself in this point ; let this long 
 silence be termed, therefore, a cessation rather 
 than neglect on both sides : a bow that lies 
 awhile unbent, and a field that remains fallow for 
 a time, grow never the worse ; but afterwards the 
 one sends forth an arrow more strongly, the other 
 yields a better crop being re-cultivated ; let this 
 be also verified in us, let our friendship grow more 
 fruitful after this pause, let it be more active for 
 
 such commendations as the pen of such a writer will always 
 command." — Brit. Critic, Pre/, to vol. III. 
 
 In Collinson's Somerset, a Biographical Sketch is thus noticed : 
 " We consider Mr. P.'s Life of Mr. Rack, which has a conspi- 
 cuous place in this History, as an afiFectionate tribute to his me- 
 mory." — Crit. Rev. [^Collinson's Somersetshire] 1793.
 
 352 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 the future ; you see I begin and " shoot the first 
 shaft." 
 
 Accept my unfeigned congratulations on your 
 marriage, and believe that I speak sincerely, when 
 I assure you that every accession of happiness to you 
 affords me great satisfaction. I would, however, 
 rather have had the first intimation of it from any 
 other source than the common prints ; but I am 
 not, perhaps, entitled to complain. A bridegroom 
 has little time upon his hands, either to write to 
 his friends, or to visit them. In my letters from 
 St. Paul's I hear nothing of you, and thence con- 
 clude that you do not very often call upon my 
 family. 
 
 I know not where to direct to you, and there- 
 fore shall send this to Downman. If you have 
 not altogether forgotten me, pray give me some 
 news of yourself ; and if you retain any portion of 
 regard for me, do excuse this awkward way of re- 
 suming our correspondence. May I offer my hum- 
 ble ceremonies to Mrs. Polwhele ? 
 
 Yours ever, J. Jones. 
 
 I have seen the Critical, and I am astounded ! 
 What do you say to it ? You cannot be silent.
 
 COURESPONliKNCK. '55,1 
 
 R. P. to R. G. 
 
 My Dear G. April 29, 1794. 
 
 I have just been favoured with an interesting 
 
 letter from our old Ch. Ch. friend B . The 
 
 following extract will amuse you. 
 
 " O how (says B.) will Boswell envy me ! No 
 less than Dr. Johnson's watch is now in my pos- 
 session ! This watch was the regulator you know 
 of the famous literary club ; it was made by the 
 very celebrated Mudge (who I have heard was a 
 Devonshire man) on purpose for Dr. Johnson. 
 Mudge's brother or relation published a volume 
 of Sermons, which Johnson spoke w^ell of, and 
 promoted a subscription for them. Mudge the 
 watch-maker was pleased with Johnson's attention 
 to his kinsman, and promised to exert himself in 
 making this watch ; and Johnson always expressed 
 himself highly pleased with it. 1 purchased it of 
 Francis Barber, his black servant, who is now 
 settled at Lichfield, and I am afraid in great want, 
 though his master left him almost all his property. 
 But he has a wife, poor fellow, that brings him both 
 black and white children (alternately) ; this strange 
 chemical mixture has produced that bitter portion 
 poverty. This is not the Philosopher's stone.'* 
 
 Yours ever, R. P 
 
 A A
 
 354 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Dr. Downman to R. P. 
 
 My Dear Friend, April 29, 1794. 
 
 You have here the Epigram applied to Gibbons 
 Portrait, which our learned Archdeacon repeated 
 to us the other day, though not as his own. I 
 believe, however, that it is his own, and that the 
 translation is Major Drewe's. 
 
 " Felix qui Satanae potaisti frangere vires ; 
 
 Sed quod fecisti, mi Sophe ! non satis est. 
 Dajmonis ut nostr&. de mente recedat imago, 
 
 Horribilem vultum, Gibbone ! tolle tuum." 
 
 To sinaefSj wonderfully civil. 
 Gibbon declares there is no Devil. 
 Ah ! trust him not ! For, if we look 
 Upon his portrait in his book. 
 The boldest infidel would swear 
 He sees the very Devil there. 
 
 Yours, &c. H. D. 
 
 E. S to R. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, 1794. 
 
 ******* 
 
 I think your *' Historical Views" * have not yet 
 been noticed in the Monthly Review ; I am truly 
 concerned that you have been so illiberally treated 
 
 * Of " The Historical Views," the most interesting features 
 are perhaps the Cromlech and Dunheved Castle. — See the En- 
 gravings.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 355 
 
 in the Critical, and, as you conjecture, by a per- 
 son who only received from you and from others 
 
 his deserts. 
 
 * * # # * * « 
 
 By this time, I presume you have crossed the 
 water to your new situation at Exraouth, which I 
 was glad to find you purposed doing, as the cu- 
 racy was pointed out to you in so handsome and 
 desirable a manner ; and which I hope may be 
 the means (if eligible to yourself) of introducing 
 you hereafter into the living, or proving even- 
 tually more valuable to you in other respects. 
 The fatigue of duty, likewise, in the parish church 
 of Kenton, was certainly too trying to your con- 
 stitution ; and I conceive, therefore, that the 
 duty at Exmouth will be an immediate advantage 
 both to yourself and your audience. I never read 
 any work of Delaney, not even his life of David ; 
 there were some Sermons published on relative 
 duties two or three years ago, advertised as writ- 
 ten by the late Dr. Franklin, preacher at a chapel 
 in London, but I have not seen them ; but you 
 cannot preach any better discourses than those on 
 moral subjects, which you have already composed, 
 and such as I heard you deliver at Kenton. In 
 my opinion, Tillotson, or the other old divines, 
 can furnish the best groundwork and occasional 
 assistance that may be wished, in framing the 
 most useful and desirable addresses from the pul- 
 pit. I hope you will not find a public place too 
 interrupting to you. I cannot say what point of 
 etiquette is expected from the clergyman, but at 
 
 AA 2
 
 5o6 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Bath I think he usually pays his personal respects 
 to those who write their names in his subscription 
 book. This I fear will be a troublesome ceremony 
 to you ; but your well-known studious inclinations 
 and engagements may probably prove a great re- 
 lief to you in this respect, and be considered as a 
 plea in freeing you from such an attendance (in 
 so high a degree I mean) as another might have 
 been subject to. 
 
 I know it will give you pleasure to be informed 
 that we continue to find our rural retreat very 
 comfortable. I seem to realize and enjoy your 
 classical allusion, 
 
 *' Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno, et inertibus horis 
 Ducere solicitae jucunda oblivia vitae. 
 ' fuge magna ; licet sub paupere tecto, 
 
 Reges, et regum vitS, praecurrere amicos, 
 
 I am, indeed, so pleased with the spot, that some- 
 times I almost imagine every thing classical about 
 it but the possessor of it, and flatter myself, if 
 you saw it, you would call it the Sabine Farm — 
 
 Hoc erat in votis ; 
 
 Hortus ubi, et tecto vicinus jugis aquae fons ; 
 
 These I can shew you, &c. and ought I not then 
 to add (the grand point) — " nihil amplius opto?** 
 
 Cur valle permutein Sabin^ 
 Divitias operosiores ? 
 
 tamen 
 
 Curtae nescio quid semper abest rei. 
 
 Let me mention to you two circumstances more 
 respecting my present situation, before I extri-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 557 
 
 cate you from the labyrinth of fatigue in which 
 you have involved yourself, by being so good to 
 be pleased with the particulars I have already sent 
 you. In walking around my house, and only at 
 a few yards distance from it, I find I can discern 
 no less number than thirteen churches, — a singular 
 thing I should think attending a place in a vale ; 
 but which plainly shews (though the spot is al- 
 most inaccessible) that the country itself is not 
 uninhabitable. 
 
 Last Saturday died at R. about four miles from 
 hence, Mrs. T. a lady near ninety years of age, 
 mother of General T. late governor of East Flo- 
 rida, and who was said to have brought into the 
 world twenty-seven children, only one of whom 
 is now living, the minister of R. 
 
 Since I have written the above my daughter 
 has returned from London, and brings with her 
 the very pleasing intelligence, that a friend in- 
 formed her in town, that you have lately had a 
 living given you in Cornwall, but she does not 
 know the name of it, nor has heard the value of 
 it ; but waiting to be resolved in these points by 
 you, we are happy to present yourself and Mrs. 
 Polwhele with our hearty congratulations on this 
 occasion, which we trust are not premature ; and, 
 were we confirmed in this respect by yourself, I 
 should subscribe myself with the greatest satis- 
 faction, dear Sir, 
 
 Your most obliged friend and servant, E. S.
 
 358 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 E. S. to R. p. 
 
 Pear Sir, 1794. 
 
 I troubled you with a line some time ago, re- 
 turning you my best thanks for your interesting 
 letter ; and I address you now, as I think I have 
 it my power to present you with a classical treat, 
 and have transcribed for that purpose the annexed 
 pages from a Poem, entitled Britanniay composed 
 by the late Lord Hampden, about the year I761, 
 but never printed till just now by his executors, 
 who have printed seventy copies of it (but no 
 more) in a very handsome folio manner, one vo- 
 lume of which has been presented to his Majesty, 
 and the others given to some publick libraries 
 (Christ Church College I think is one), and to some 
 of his Lordship's surviving particular friends. I 
 trust it will hereafter be presented to tlie public 
 eye, probably in a smaller size ; but as I do 
 not find any determingition of the kind likely 
 to be made at present, I thought that the few 
 parts of it which I have transcribed and inclosed 
 for you would not be unacceptable ; and these 
 will give you a fair specimen of the work in gene- 
 ral, as the whole composition runs, in point of 
 merit, as nearly upon an equality as possible. It 
 consists of sixteen or seventeen hundred lines, 
 and is divided into two parts ; with it is likewise 
 printed and bound up Lathmon, translated by the 
 author of the above Poem, in Latin hexameters, 
 from the English of Macpherson's Ossian ; and, 
 moreover, a Latin Lyric Ode, composed by his
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 359 
 
 Lordship, styled Villa Bromhamensis, representing 
 in an elegant manner his mode of life at his seat 
 at Bromham in Bedfordshire ; and which is pre- 
 ceded with this motto : 
 
 tota 
 
 Votiv^, veluti patet hie depicta tabell^ 
 Vita senis. Horat, 
 
 And the first stanza is thus — 
 
 Villulee laudes, lyra, die patemae, 
 Dum hie, invito, comitante nius&^, 
 Lentus umbroso spatior propinqui 
 Aggere rivi. 
 
 Yours sincerely, E. S. 
 
 Britahhia, pars prima. 
 
 Hinc celebrare tuas, dis cara, Britannia, laudes, 
 Longuni opus aggiedior. Nee me labor iste gravabit 
 Ingenitse Patrice, pereussum pectus amore. 
 Mite prius coelum, pluviisq. juvantibus arva, 
 Humida solstitia. An felices ubere glebas, 
 Et fiavas segetes, atq. herbce prodiga multae 
 Paseua, lanigerosq. greges, armentaq. laeta, 
 Dieere suramatis, gaudentes rure, camcenae, 
 Versibus, aut urbana meis spectacula pandam ? 
 Anne opera, ac variis ditatas mercibus urbes ? 
 Anne salutiferos fontes, amnesq. in amoenis 
 Vallibus irriguos, et navibus apta vehendis 
 Flumina commemorem ? Seu circum rura beata, 
 Et nitidas villas, captus veetabor amore ? 
 Nee non foemineam, qu&, flores, Anglia, prolem, 
 Quamq. omni Charites arm&.runt arte placendi. 
 Integer ipse canam ; mox bellica gesta virorum, 
 Exemptumq. suum Neptuno pcnc tridentem ;
 
 360 TRADITIONS AND RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Inventasq. artes, sacrataq. nomina Musis; 
 Haud huniili (neq. fas) accingar pangere versu. 
 Regales usus quas publicus occupat aedes ; 
 I mo mures, ludos, nee inertia gaudia ruris 
 Musa recensebit, vario laitata labore. 
 Principis inde pio celebrentur carmine manes ; 
 Et sua sceptra manu non debiliore gerenda j 
 In tantam incepti spem tollor imagine regni; 
 Quodq. coronet opus tandem, neq. lassa salubres 
 Musa refer leges, aras, ac otia gentis ; 
 Otia, queis vigilat Thetis extra, quels Themis intra. 
 Insula tota placet fid^ depicta tabellS. 
 Poussini, blandive nianu dignissima Claudi. 
 Robustum procera solum querceta coronani ; 
 Fatidicis quondam Druidis oracula visco 
 Sacra ; sed oceano melius nunc jura datura- 
 Umbrantur patulis cretosa cacumina fagis j 
 Silva latuH vestit redivivis caedua ramis, 
 Alitibus latebrae gratae, pecoriq. ferino ; 
 Canescit glaucis fluvialis ripa salictis ; 
 Gramineos sej)es spinosa tuetur ai^ellos j 
 Tritice^ campi flavescunt messe patentes, 
 Unde (nee invideo) saturantur et extera regna ; 
 Aut onerat sulcos, siliqu& nigr:inte, legumen. 
 Nee procul assurgunt, anfractu vallis opimae, 
 Densse floriferis redimitae \itibus hastae, 
 Cultori ac fisco vectigal grande daturae. 
 Infra prata virent, sinuosaq. flumina propter. 
 Luxuriat sonipes, armentaq. bucera ludunt ; 
 Lanigeriq. greges fastigia glabra coronant ; 
 Husutaeve scabr& pendent de rupe capellae, 
 
 &c. &c. &c.
 
 ft 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 JEC'D LD-URL 
 
 URt SEP 
 
 APR im%. 
 
 3 
 
 s.*«»«jS^ 
 
 Form L9-50»i-7,'54 (5990)444
 
 ■^StJt^^-LX 
 
 AA 001 108 931 5
 
 illtliiiifflliiii 
 
 i 
 
 Hiiiiill: