scandalously represented; and of some others, to justify her against the imputation of intending to bring in the Pretender, which (to his knowledge) neither her ministers, Oxford and Bolingbroke, nor she, had any design to do. He next told me, he had ended his domestic affairs, through such difficulties from the law, that gave him as much torment of mind, as his distemper had done of body, to do right to the person to whom he had obligations beyond expression: that he had found it necessary not only to declare his marriage to all his relations, but (since the person who had married them was dead) to re-marry her in the church at Bristol, before witnesses. The warmth with which he spoke on these subjects, made me think him much recovered, as well as his talking of his present state as a heaven to what was past. I lay in the next room to him, where I found he was awake, and called for help most hours of the night, sometimes crying out for pain. In the morning he got up at nine, and was carried into his garden in a chair: he fainted away twice there. He fell, about twelve, into a violent pang, which made his limbs all shake and his teeth chatter; and for some time he lay cold as death. His wound was dressed (which is done constantly four times a day), and he

8 Lord Peterborough married Mrs. Anastasia Robinson, a celebrated singer, of whom Dr. Burney has given a very interesting account iu vol. iv. of his History of Music. The marriage was long kept secret, and, we learn from this Letter, divulged only about this time. His Lordship did not survive this interview with his old correspondent many weeks. He persisted in going to Lisbon, but died in the passage, Oct. 15. He was born about the year 1658, and was in his seventy-seventh year when he died. At the time of his connexion with Mrs. Robinson, he must have been considerably beyond his prime. She survived him fifteen years, residing in an exalted station, partly at Bevis Mount, near Southampton (whence Mr. Pope's interesting Letter is dated), and partly at Fulham, or perhaps at Peterborough-House on Parson's Green (Lysons' Environs of London, vol. ii.). The only Life extant of Lord Peterborough is that by Dr. Birch, which accompanies the Earl's portrait in Houbraken's Heads. He had written his own Memoirs, which his Lady destroyed, from a regard to his reputation. Tradition says, that in these Memoirs he confessed his having committed three capital crimes before he was twenty years of age. Such Memoirs may be spared. C.-Bowles.

grew gay, and sat at dinner with ten people. After this he was again in torment for a quarter of an hour; and as soon as the pang was over, was carried again into the garden to the workmen, talked again of his history, and declaimed with great spirit against the meanness of the present great men and ministers, and the decay of public spirit and honour. It is impossible to conceive how much his heart is above his condition: he is dying every other hour, and obstinate to do whatever he has a mind to. He has concerted no measures beforehand for his journey, but to get a yacht in which he will set sail, but no place fixed on to reside at, nor has determined what place to land at, or provided any accommodation for his going on land. He talks of getting towards Lyons, but undoubtedly he can never travel but to the sea-shore. I pity the poor woman who is to share in all he suffers, and who can in no one thing persuade him to spare himself. I think he must be lost in this attempt, and attempt it he will.

He has with him, day after day, not only all his relations, but every creature of the town of Southampton that pleases. He lies on his couch and receives them, though he says little. When his pains come, he desires them to walk out, but invites them to stay and dine or sup, &c. Sir Wilfred Lawson and his Lady, Mrs. Mordaunt and Colonel Mordaunt are here to-morrow come Mr. Poyntz, &c. for two days only, and they all go away together. He says he will go at the month's end, if he is alive. I believe I shall get home on Wednesday night. I hope Lady Suffolk will not go sooner for Stowe, and, if not, I will go with her willingly. Nothing can be more affecting and melancholy to me than what I see here: yet he takes my visit so kindly, that I should have lost one great pleasure, had I not come. I have nothing more to say, as I have nothing in my mind but this present object,

which indeed is extraordinary. This man was never born to die like other men, any more than to live like them 9. I am ever yours, &c.

LETTER LIII.

TO MRS. MARTHA BLOUNT.

December 27.

I AM sorry you are so engaged and dissipated, as you say. If your friends would but do as most other people's, invite you once to dinner, and then not care if you were hanged, it would be better. But to be all day, first dressing one's body, then dragging it abroad, then stuffing the guts, then washing them with tea, then wagging one's tongue, and so to bed; it is the life of an animal, that may, for all that I know, have reason in it (as the country girl said a fiddle had a tune in it), but wanted somebody to fetch it out: and ladies indeed so seldom learn to play this way, or show what is in them at all, till they meet with some clever fellow, to wind them well up, and fret their fiddlestrings. But as next to action is contemplation, so women unmarried betake themselves wisely to thinking; as I doubt not you do sometimes, when, after the fatigues of the day, you get to bed, and then how must every considerate woman be struck, when she hears the watchman every hour telling how time is past! If you think I write a little extravagantly, you are mistaken; for this is philosophy: I am just come from hearing Dr. Cheyne; and besides I have the head-ache, which heats my brain, and he assures me I might be inspired, if it had but one turn more. I must just say a word or

9 A few other particulars of Lord Peterborough's death are given in a Letter to Swift. C.-Bowles.

two in the usual form, to let you know I have been once at Bath, and dined with Mrs. Arbuthnot, who sends you many services. I will not fail to speak of what you desire to Lady Peterborough. Mrs. Arbuthnot tells me she is very great with Mrs. Nugent, and so am I (to be) with Mrs. P. but I have not seen her, and she has no coach, and cannot get at me. I thank God for all his benefits. Pray tell me of any thing that pleases you, or any thing that vexes you: and give Lady Gerard my humble service; and take care of your health, and finish the picture when you go into the city, or to Judge Fortescue's, and do not mind Mr. Price'.

You tell me very few of my friends in town remember to ask about me. You shall see how I remember them, and how I ask about them. Pray tell my Lady Suffolk, in the first place, that I think of her every night constantly, as the greatest comforter I have, under her eider-down quilt: I wish Mr. Berkley lay as easy, who, I hear (and I am sorry for it), has had the gout. Pray ask the Duchess of Queensbury, (if you can contrive to ask her without seeing her,) what she means by forgetting you are as good a dancer as some she invites? and ask my Lady Marchmont to carry you to see how well her Lord performs. Pray tell Mr. Lyttelton to tell a friend of his, that of all the princes in Europe, I admire the King of Prussia, because he never tells any body any thing he intends to do. Pray tell Mrs. Price how kindly I take her remembrance of me, and desire her to tell my Lord Cornbury 2 so. And those who love writing letters,

1 Grandfather of the present Uvedale Price, Esq. See Letter to Mrs. Price at Spa, in this Collection, communicated by Mr. Price, p. 401.

-Bowles.

2 Lord Cornbury was grandson of the great Lord Clarendon, and of course nearly related to Mary, consort of William III. and sister to Queen Anne. He was, notwithstanding, a Nonjuror, and for that reason

and those who can write a-bed, should write, for the same reason that those who hate writing letters, and those that cannot lie or sit still, should not write: and tell Mr. Nugent that I will sit for my picture for him, as I once did for his lady; and that I believe it will be a very excellent picture, because I am very much altered for the better. Pray assure Mr. Cleland that I am reading Don Quixote; and assure Lady Fanny that I have writ no verses this year at Bath. I wish Lord Chesterfield knew that a very scandalous paper is handed about in his name upon Lady Thanet, which I am glad of, because he gave copies of an incorrect libel of mine against pride and covetousness.

Among the rest of my friends, I wish you had told me what is become of Moratt. Is it not for him that your sister has cried out her eyes?

LETTER LIV.

MRS. MARTHA BLOUNT TO MRS. PRICE.

DEAR MADAM,

Sept. 8, 1740.

CONSIDERING how long I have been without writing to you, you will think I have no fair pretence to take ill your not writing to me: but the case is very different. You could give me great pleasure in telling me you had a good journey, that the waters did you good, &c. this is the chief: I could add, you do and can write agreeable letters; you know I cannot: I can only repeat what I have often told you, in a very dull but very sincere way, that nobody has more regard for you, nor is more interested in all that concerns your health and happiness, and wish you both with all my

was, no doubt, more respected by Pope; but he was a most amiable man and well merited the elegant compliment paid him in verse:

"Disdain whatever Cornbury disdains.”—Bowles.