LETTER XLVI

To Dr. Warburton, Bishop of Gloucester

COXWOULD, June 19, 1760.

MY LORD,-This post brought me the honour of your letter, for which, and for your kind and most friendly advice, I return your Lordship all I am able - my best thanks. Be assured, my Lord, that willingly and knowingly I will give no offence to any mortal by anything which I think can look like the least violation either of decency or good manners, and yet, with all the caution of a heart void of offence or intention of giving it, I may find it very hard, in writing such a book as Tristram Shandy, to mutilate everything in it down to the prudish humour of every particular. I will, however, do my best though laugh, my Lord, I will, and as loud as I can too.

With regard to the Lyrick Odes, all I know of them is this; that the first Ode, which places me and the author in a ridiculous light, was sent to me in a cover without a name, which, after striking out some parts, as a whimsical performance, I showed to some acquaintance;

and as Mr. Garrick had told me some time before he would write me an Ode, for a day or two I supposed it came from him. I found afterwards it was sent me from Mr. Hall; for from a nineteen years' total interruption of all correspondence with him, I had forgot his hand, which at last, when I recollected, I sent it back. The second Ode, which abounds with indecencies, is, I suppose, his too; as they are published together, there can be little doubt. He must answer for them; having nothing myself to answer for with regard to them but my extreme concern, and that a man of such great talents, as my acquaintance Mr. Hall is, should give the world so much offence. He has it greatly in his power to make amends; and if I have any penetration, and can depend upon the many assurances he gives me, your Lordship will, I hope, live to see it. He is worth reclaiming, being one of those whom nature has enabled to do much hurt or much good.

Of all the vile things wrote against me, the letter your Lordship mentions in the Female Magazine is the most inimicitious, and gave me, for that reason, the most concern; under which I had no better relief than denying the facts,

and crying out against the hardship done me by such a contexture of lies tacked together, not to serve me but to overthrow me. Such profligate wretches too often gain their end. Every mortal in town says it was wrote by a Dr. Hill, who wrote the Inspectors, and, they tell me, has the property and management of that magazine. Garrick tells me the same story, and with reasons to confirm it. These strokes in the dark, with the many kicks, cuffs, and bastinadoes I openly get on all sides of me, are beginning to make me sick of this foolish humour of mine, of sallying forth into this wide and wicked world to redress wrongs, &c. of which I shall repent as sorely as ever Sancho Panza did of his in following his evil genius of a Don Quixote through thick and thin; but as the poor fellow apologised for it, so must I: "it was my ill-fortune and my errantry, and that's all that can be said on't." Otherwise, I wish from my heart I had never set pen to paper, but continued hid in the quiet obscurity in which I had so long lived: I was quiet, for I was below envy and yet above want; and indeed so very far above it, that the idea of it never once entered my head in writing; and as I am 2007. a year further from the danger

of it than I was then, I think it never will; for I declare I have all I wish or want in this world, being in my calculation of money, all out, as rich as my friend Garrick, whose goodness of heart and honest cowardice in keeping so far out of the way of temptation, I nevertheless esteem and admire.

The Bishop of Carlisle did me the honour yesterday of a call; of whom I had the satisfaction of inquiring after your Lordship's health, and particularly how far the waters had relieved you under the pain and indigestion you complained of. He hoped your Lordship was better.

I wish your Lordship all the most grateful man can wish happiness in this world and in the next. I am, my Lord, with all esteem and duty, your affectionate servant,

LAU. STERNE.

LETTER XLVII

Dr. Warburton, Bishop of Gloucester, to Laurence Sterne

PRIOR PARK, June 26, 1760.

REV. SIR, I have the favour of your obliging Letter of the 19th. It gives me real pleasure (and I could not but trouble you with these two or three lines to tell you so) that you are resolved to do justice to your genius, and to borrow no aids to support it, but what are of the party of honour, virtue, and religion.

You say you will continue to laugh aloud. In good time. But one who was no more than even a man of spirit would choose to laugh in good company; where priests and virgins may be present.

Do not expect your friends to pity you for the trash and ribaldry scribbled against you; they will be apter to congratulate you upon it.

Notwithstanding all your wishes for your former obscurity, which your present chagrin excites, yet a wise man cannot but choose the sunshine before the shade; indeed he would not wish to dwell in the malignant heat of the dog-days, not for the teasing and momentary