great trouble from finishing these, I heartily rejoice

with

you.

I have some faint notion of the beauties of Twickenham from what I here see round me. The verdure of showers is poured upon every tree and field about us; the gardens unfold variety of colours to the eye every morning; the hedges' breath is beyond all perfume, and the song of birds we hear as well as you. But though I hear and see all this, yet I think they would delight me more if you was here. I found the want of these at Twickenham while I was there with you, by which I guess what an increase of charms it must now have. How kind is it in you to wish me there, and how unfortunate are my circumstances that allow me not to visit you! If I see you, I must leave my father alone, and this uneasy thought would disappoint all my proposed pleasures; the same circumstances will prevent my prospect of many happy hours with you in Lord Bathurst's wood, and I fear of seeing you till winter, unless Lady Scudamore comes to Sherburne, in which case I shall press you to see Dorsetshire, as you proposed. May you have a long enjoyment of your new favourite Portico! Your, etc.

LETTER VI.

FROM MR. DIGBY.

Sherburne, July 9, 1720.

THE London language and conversation is, I find,

quite changed since I left it, though it is not above

three or four months ago. No violent change in the natural world ever astonished a Philosopher so much as this does me. I hope this will calm all Party rage, and introduce more humanity than has of late obtained in conversation. All scandal will sure be laid aside, for there can be no such disease, any more as spleen in this new Golden age. I am pleased with the thoughts of seeing nothing but a general good humour when I come up to town; I rejoice in the universal riches I hear of, in the thought of their having this effect. They tell me, you was soon concared not for such an increase as

tent; and that you others wished you.

By this account I judge you the

richest man in the South-Sea, and congratulate you accordingly. I can wish you only an increase of health, for of riches and fame you have enough.

LETTER VII.

Your, etc.

July 20, 1720.

YOUR kind desire to know the state of my health had not been unsatisfied so long, had not that ill state been the impediment. Nor should I have seemed an unconcerned party in the joys of your family, which I heard of from Lady Scudamore, whose short Eschantillon of a letter (of a quarter of a page) I value as the short glimpse of a vision afforded to some devout hermit; for it includes (as those revelations do) a promise of a better life in the Elysian groves of Cirencester, whither, I could say almost in the style

of a sermon, the Lord bring us all, etc. Thither may
we tend, by various ways, to one blissful bower:
thither may health,
health, peace, and good humour, wait
upon us as associates; thither may whole cargoes of
nectar, (liquor of life and longevity!) by mortals
called Spa-water, be conveyed; and there (as Milton
has it) may we, like the deities,

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

When I speak of garlands, I should not forget the green vestments and scarfs, which your sisters promised to make for this purpose: I expect you too in green, with a hunting-horn by your side and a green hat, the model of which you may take from Osborne's description of King James the First.

What words, what numbers, what oratory, or what poetry, can suffice to express how infinitely I esteem, value, love, and desire you all, above all the great ones of this part of the world; above all the Jews, jobbers, bubblers, subscribers, projectors, directors, governors, treasurers, etc. etc. etc. in sæcula sæculorum.

Turn your eyes and attention from this miserable mercenary period; and turn yourself, in a just contempt of the sons of Mammon, to the contemplation of books, gardens, and marriage; in which I now leave you, and return (wretch that I am) to watergruel and Palladio.

I am, etc.

LETTER VIII.

FROM MR. DIGBY.

Sherburne, July 30.

I CONGRATULATE you', dear Sir, on the return of the Golden age; for sure this must be such, in which money is showered down in such abundance upon us. I hope this overflowing will produce great and good fruits, and bring back the figurative moral Golden age to us. I have some omens to induce me to believe it may; for when the Muses delight to be near a court, when I find you frequently with a Firstminister, I can't but expect from such an intimacy an encouragement and revival of the polite arts. I know, you desire to bring them into honour, above the golden Image which is set up and worshipped; and, if you cannot effect it, adieu to all such hopes. You seem to intimate in yours another face of things from this inundation of wealth, as if beauty, wit, and valour, would no more engage our passions in the pleasurable pursuit of them, though assisted by this increase: If so, and if monsters only as various as those of Nile arise from this abundance, who that has any spleen about him will not haste to town to laugh? What will become of the play-house? who will go thither while there is such entertainment in the streets? I hope we shall neither want good Satire nor Comedy; if we do, the age may well be thought barren of geniuses, for none has ever produced better subjects.

1

Your, etc.

Written during the delusion of the famous South-Sea scheme.

LETTER IX.

FROM MR. DIGBY.

Coleshill, Nov. 12, 1720.

I FIND in my heart that I have a taint of the corrupt age we live in. I want the public Spirit so much admired in old Rome, of sacrificing every thing that is dear to us to the commonwealth. I even feel a more intimate concern for my friends who have suffered in the S. Sea, than for the public, which is said to be undone by it. But I hope, the reason is, that I do not see so evidently the ruin of the public to be a consequence of it, as I do the loss of my friends. I fear there are few besides yourself that will be persuaded by old Hesiod, that half is more than the whole. I know not whether I do not rejoice in your sufferings2; since they have shewn me your mind is principled with such a sentiment, I assure you I expect from it a performance greater still than Homer. I have an extreme joy from your communicating to me this affection of your mind;

Quid voveat dulci Nutricula majus alumno?

Believe me, dear Sir, no equipage could shew you to my eye in so much splendour. I would not indulge this fit of philosophy so far as to be tedious to you, else I could prosecute it with pleasure.

I long to see you, your Mother, and your Villa; till then I will say nothing of Lord Bathurst's wood, which I saw on my return hither. Soon after Christ

2 See Note on v. 189. of the second Satire, Book ii. of Horace.