X.-TO RICHARD WEST. [This letter began with the Sapphic Ode to Mr. West, and ended with the Alcaic Fragment.] OHE! amicule noster, et unde, sodes tu povσoñáτακτος adeò repente evasisti? jam rogitaturum credo. Nescio hercle, sic planè habet. Quicquid enim nugarum ènì σxoλns inter ambulandum in palimpsesto scriptitavi, hisce te maxumè impertiri1 visum est, quippe quem probare, quod meum est, aut certè ignoscere solitum probè novi: bonâ tuâ veniâ sit si fortè videar in fine subtristior; nam risui jamdudum salutem dixi; etiam paulò mœstitiæ studiosiorem factum scias, promptumque, Καινοῖς παλαιὰ δακρύοις στένειν κακά. Sed de me satis. Cura ut valeas. June 1738. XI. TO HORACE WALPOLE. - MY DEAR SIR-I should say2 Mr. Inspector-General of the Exports and Imports; but that appellation would 1 This is a strange construction, and in all probability incorrectly copied.-[Ed.] 2 Mr. Walpole was just named to that post, which he exchanged soon after for that of Usher of the Exchequer.[Mason.] make but an odd figure in conjunction with the three familiar monosyllables above written, for Non benè conveniunt nec in unâ sede morantur 2 Which is, being interpreted, Love does not live at the Custom-house; however, by what style, title, or denomination soever you choose to be dignified or distinguished hereafter, these three words will stick by you like a burr, and you can no more get quit of these and your Christian name than St. Anthony could of his pig. My motions at present (which you are pleased to ask after), are much like those of a pendulum or (Dr. Longically speaking) oscillatory. I swing from Chapel or Hall home, and from home to Chapel or Hall. All the strange incidents that happen in my journeys and returns I shall be sure to acquaint you with; the most wonderful is, that it now rains exceedingly, this has refreshed the prospect, as the way for the most part lies between green fields on either hand, terminated with buildings at some distance, castles, I presume, and of great 3 1 Ovidii Met., II. v. 6. 2 Dr. Roger Long (1680-1770) was Master of Pembroke College during the greater part of Gray's Cambridge career. He was Professor of Astronomy and Geography from 1749 to his death. His personal whimsicalities and vanities are frequently referred to in Gray's Letters.-[Ed.] Dr. Long was at this time reading lectures in experimental philosophy.[Mason.] 3 All that follows is a humorously-hyperbolic description of the quadrangle of Peterhouse.—[Mason.] antiquity. The roads are very good, being, as I suspect, the works of Julius Cæsar's army, for they still preserve, in many places, the appearance of a pavement in pretty good repair, and, if they were not so near home, might perhaps be as much admired as the Via Appia; there are at present several rivulets to be crossed, and which serve to enliven the view all around, The country is exceeding fruitful in ravens and such black cattle; but, not to tire you with my travels, I abruptly conclude. -Yours, etc. August 1738. XII. TO RICHARD WEST. I AM coming away all so fast, and leaving behind me without the least remorse, all the beauties of Sturbridge Fair. Its white bears may roar, its apes may wring their hands, and crocodiles cry their eyes out, all's one for that; I shall not once visit them, nor so much as take my leave. The university has published a severe edict against schismatical congregations, and created half a dozen new little procterlings to see its orders executed, being under mighty apprehensions lest Henley and his gilt tub should come to the Fair and seduce their young ones; but their pains are to small purpose, for lo, after all, he is not coming. 1 1 The Rev. John Henley (1692-1756), known as Orator Henley, a prominent preacher and political lecturer. I am at this instant in the very agonies of leaving college, and would not wish the worst of my enemies a worse situation. If you knew the dust, the old boxes, the bedsteads, and tutors that are about my ears, you would look upon this letter as a great effort of my resolution and unconcernedness in the midst of evils. I fill up my paper with a loose sort of version of that scene in Pastor Fido that begins, Care selve beati. September 1738. XIII. TO MRS. DOROTHY GRAY. Amiens, April 1, N. S., 1739. As we made a very short journey to-day, and came to our inn early, I sit down to give you some account of our expedition. On the 29th (according to the style here) we left Dover at twelve at noon, and with a pretty brisk gale, which pleased everybody mighty well, except myself, who was extremely sick the whole time; we reached Calais by five. The weather changed, and it began to snow hard the minute we got into the harbour, where we took the boat and soon landed. Calais is an exceeding old, but very pretty town, and we hardly saw anything there that was not so new and so different from England, that it surprised us agreeably. We went the next morning to the great Church, and were at high Mass (it being Easter Monday). We saw also the Convents of the Capuchins, and the Nuns of St. Dominic; with these last we held much conversation, especially with an English Nun, a Mrs. Davis, of whose work I sent you by the return of the Pacquet, a letter-case to remember her by. In the afternoon we took a post-chaise (it still snowing very hard) for Boulogne, which was only eighteen miles farther. This chaise is a strange sort of conveyance, of much greater use than beauty, resembling an ill-shaped chariot, only with the door opening before instead of the side; three horses draw it, one between the shafts, and the other two on each side, on one of which the postillion rides, and drives too. This vehicle will, upon occasion, go fourscore miles a-day, but Mr. Walpole, being in no hurry, chooses to make easy journeys of it, and they are easy ones indeed; for the motion is much like that of a sedan, we go about six miles an hour, and commonly change horses at the end of it. It is true they are no very graceful steeds, but they go well, and through roads which they say are bad for France, but to me they seem gravel walks and bowling-greens; in short, it would be the finest travelling in the world. were it not for the inns, which are mostly terrible places indeed. But to describe our progress somewhat more regularly, we came into Boulogne when it was almost dark, and went out pretty early on Tuesday morning; so that all I can say about it is, that it is a large, old, fortified town, with more English in it than French. 1 This was before the introduction of post-chaises here, else it would not have appeared a circumstance worthy notice.[Mason.] VOL. II. C |