ployed for your happiness, and will, I hope, be of more use to you, than they have been to myself. The Books I send you are the Etat de la France, 3 vol. fol. upon my word, an excellent book. He is a sensible, knowing Englishman, only had the misfortune to be born in France. Life of Mahomet by the same author, it is famous, you are desired to make no reflections, nor draw consequences, when you read it. Ld. Burleigh's Papers seem very curious, and well enough chose by the way, they have lately published Thurlow's Papers here, in 7 vol. folio, out of which it would be hard to collect a Pocket volume worth having. Dr. Middleton's Cicero, 2 vol. and a letter on the Catholic religion worth your reading. Philip de Commines, 5 vol. the Louvre edition is much more splendid, but wants the supplement and notes, which are here. W on the Ms.1 a very impudent fellow, his dedications will make you laugh. Ludlow's Memoirs, 3 vol. as unorthodox in Politics, as the other in Religion. 2 lyttel Bookys tocheing Kyng James the Fyrst; very rare. Le Sopha, de Crebillon-Collect. of Plays, 10 vol. There are none of Shakspear, because you had better have all his works together, they come to about £7. 18s. 6d. the whole cargo. You will find among them 3 Parts of Marianne3 for Mr. Chute; if he has them already, how can I help it? why would he make no mention of Mad. de Thevire to one?

n.

2

1 Warburton's Reflections on the Miraculous Powers.—[ Ed.] 2 The well-known satirical romance, published in 1740. 3 The novel by Marivaux.

:

And now let me congratulate you as no longer a Min but for del mondo veramente un Ministrone, and King of the Mediterranean. Pray your Majesty, give orders to your men of war, if they touch at Naples, to take care of ma collection, and be sure don't let them bombard Genoa. If you can bully the Pope out of the Apollo Belvidere, well and good: I'm not against it. I'm enchanted with your good sister the Queen of Hungary; as old as I am, I could almost fight for her myself. See what it is to be happy. Everybody will fight for those that have no occasion for them. Pray take care to continue so, but whether you do, or not, I am truly yours,

July [1745], London.

T. G.

The Parliament's up, and all the world are made
Lords, and Secretaries, and Commissioners.

LIII. TO HORACE WALPOLE.

Cambridge, February 3, 1746.

DEAR SIR-You are so good to enquire after my usual time of coming to town: it is a season when even you, the perpetual friend of London, will, I fear, hardly be in it-the middle of June: and I commonly return hither in September; a month when I may more probably find you at home.

Our defeat to be sure is a rueful affair for the

1 Defeat at Falkirk, under General Hawley. See Jacobite Memoirs, or Forbes' Papers, p. 89.—[Mit.]

VOL. II.

K

honour of the troops; but the Duke is gone it seems with the rapidity of a cannon-bullet to undefeat us again.1 The common people in town at least know how to be afraid: but we are such uncommon people here as to have no more sense of danger than if the battle had been fought when and where the battle of Cannæ was.

The perception of these calamities, and of their consequences, that we are supposed to get from books, is so faintly impressed, that we talk of war, famine, and pestilence, with no more apprehension than of a broken head, or of a coach overturned between York and Edinburgh.

I heard three people, sensible middle-aged men (when the Scotch were said to be at Stamford, and actually were at Derby), talking of hiring a chaise to go to Caxton (a place in the high road) to see the Pretender and the Highlanders as they passed.

I can say no more for Mr. Pope (for what you keep in reserve may be worse than all the rest).2 It is natural to wish the finest writer, one of them, we ever had, should be an honest man. It is for the interest even of that virtue, whose friend he professed himself, and whose beauties he sung, that he should not be found a dirty animal. But, however,

1 "The Duke is gone post to Edinburgh, where he hoped to arrive to-night, if possible to relieve Stirling." V. H. Walpole's Let. to Mann, vol. ii. p. 121.—[Mit.]

2 This is probably a reference to the scandals about Atossa and the Patriot King. Pope had died on the 30th of May 1744.-[Ed.]

this is Mr. Warburton's business, not mine, who may scribble his pen to the stumps and all in vain, if these facts are so. It is not from what he told me about himself that I thought well of him, but from a humanity and goodness of heart, ay, and greatness of mind, that runs through his private correspondence, not less apparent than are a thousand little vanities and weaknesses mixed with those good qualities, for nobody ever took him for a philosopher. If you know anything of Mr. Mann's state of health and happiness, or the motions of Mr. Chute homewards, it will be a particular favour to inform me of them, as I have not heard this half-year from them.-I am sincerely yours, T. GRAY.

LIV. TO JOHN CHUTE.

MY DEAR SIR-Three days ago as I was in the Coffee-House very deep in advertisements, a servant came in and waked me (as I thought) with the name of Mr. Chute; for half a minute I was not sure, but that it was you transported into England, by some strange chance, the Lord knows how, till he brought me to a coach that seem'd to have lost its way, by looking for a needle in a bottle of hay. In it was a lady who said she was not you, but only a near relation, and was so good to give me a letter, with which I return'd to my den, in order to prey upon it. I had wrote to you but a few days ago, and am glad of

so good an excuse to do it again, which I may the better do, as my last was all out, and nothing to the purpose, being design'd for a certain Mr. Chute at Rome, and not him at Florence.

I learn from it that I have been somewhat smarter than I ought, but (to shew you with how little malice) I protest I have not the least idea what it was. My memory would be better, did I read my own letters so often as I do yours: you must attribute it to a sort of kittenish disposition that scratches, where it means to caress. However, I repent neither, if 'tis that has made you write. I know, I need not ask pardon, for you have forgiven me: nay, I have a good mind, to complain myself-How could you say, that I designed to hurt you, because I knew you could feel. I hate the thoughts of it, and would not for the world wound anything that was sensible. 'Tis true, I should be glad to scratch the careless, or the foolish; but no armour is so impenetrable as indifference, and stupidity, and so I may keep my claws to myself. For another instance of the shortness of my memory, would you believe, I have so little knowledge of the Florentine History, as not to guess who the Lady Errant is, you mention? sure it can't be the Rdi. and her faithful swain, or may be M. Gdi. and the little abbé; what you do there so long I have no conception; if you stay at other places in proportion, I despair of ever seeing you again. 'Tis true indeed Mr. Mann is not everywhere; I am shock'd to think of his sufferings, but he of all men