care for following him through his deep Researches, and generally look upon all ye new Philosophy as Visionary or Irreligious. Malbranche himself told me that he was five and twenty years old before he had so much as heard of ye name of Des Cartes. His book is now reprinted with many Additions, among which he show'd me a very pretty hypothesis of Colours wh is different from that of Cartesius or Mr. Newton, tho' they may all three be True. He very much prais'd Mr Newton's Mathematics, shook his head at ye name of Hobbes, and told me he thought him a pauvre esprit. He was very solicitous about ye English translation of his work, and was afraid it had been taken from an Ill Edition of it. Among other Learned men I had ye honour to be introduc'd to Mr Boileau, who is now retouching his works and putting 'em out in a new Impression. He is old and a little Deaf but talks incomparably well in his own calling. He heartily hates an Ill poet and throws himself into a passion when he talks of any one that has not a high respect for Homer and Virgil. I dont know whether there is more of old Age or Truth in his Censures on ye French writers, but he wonderfully decrys ye present and extols very much his former cotemporarys, especially his two intimate friends Arnaud and Racine. I askt him whether he thought Télémaque was not a good modern piece: he spoke of it with a great deal of esteem, and said that it gave us a better notion of Homer's way of writing than any translation of his works could do, but that it falls however infinitely short of ye Odyssee, for Mentor, says he, is eternally Preaching, but Ulysses shows us every thing in his character and behaviour yt ye other is still pressing on us by his precepts and Instructions. He said ye punishment of bad Kings was very well invented, and might compare with any thing of that nature in ye 6th Eneid, and that ye deceit put on Télémaque's Pilot to make him misguide his master is more artful and poetical than ye Death of Palinurus. I mention his discourse of his Author because it is at present ye Book yt is everywhere talked of, and has a great many partizans for and against it in this country. I found him as warm in crying up this man and ye good poets in general as he has been in censuring ye bad ones of his time, as we commonly observe ye man that makes ye Best friend is ye worst enemy. He talk'd very much of Corneille, allowing him to be an excellent poet, but at ye

same time none of ye best Tragique writers, for that he declaimed too frequently and made very fine Descriptions often when there was no occasion for 'em. Aristotle, says he, proposes two passions yt are proper to be rais'd by Tragedy, Terrour and Pity, but Corneille endeavours at a new one wh is Admiration. He instanc'd in his Pompey (wh he told us ye late Duke of Condy thought ye best Tragedy yt was ever written) where in ye first scene ye King of Egypt runs into a very pompous and long description of ye battle of Pharsalia, tho' he was then in a great hurry of affairs and had not himself been present at it. I hope your Laship will excuse me for this kind of Intelligence, for in so beaten a Road as that of France it is impossible to talk of anything new unless we may be allow'd to speak of particular persons, yt are always changing and may therefore furnish different matter for as many travellers as pass thro' ye country.

son

CXVIII.

This letter, so full of the gentlemanlike badinage and graceful humour in which its author was the first English writer to excel, was composed at a moment when the hopes of Addiwere at their lowest, and his ambition most painfully humiliated. The death of King William had destroyed that Whig Ministry with which the poet's chances of preferment were bound up, and had brought him but one advantage, 'leisure to make the tour of Germany.'

Joseph Addison to Chamberlain Dashwood.

Geneva: July, 1702.

Dear Sir,-About three days ago Mr. Bocher put a very pretty snuff-box in my hand. I was not a little pleas'd to hear that it belonged to myself, and was much more so when I found it was a present from a Gentleman that I have so great an honour for. You did not probably foresee that it would draw on you ye trouble of a Letter, but you must blame yourself for it. For my part I can no more accept of a Snuff-box without returning my Acknowledgements, than I can take Snuff without sneezing after it. This last I must own to you is so great an absurdity that I should be ashamed to confess it, were not I in hopes of correcting

it very speedily. I am observ'd to have my Box oft'ner in my hand than those that have been used to one these twenty years, for I cant forbear taking it out of my pocket whenever I think of Mr. Dashwood. You know Mr. Bays recommends Snuff as a great provocative to Wit, but you may produce this Letter as a Standing Evidence against him. I have since ye beginning of it taken above a dozen pinches, and still find myself much more inclin❜d to sneeze than to jest. From whence I conclude that Wit and Tobacco are not inseparable, or to make a Pun of it, tho' a Man may be master of a snuff-box,

Non cuicunque datum est habere Nasam.

I should be afraid of being thought a Pedant for my Quotation did not I know that ye Gentleman I am writing to always carrys a Horace in his pocket. But whatever you may think me, pray Sr do me ye Justice to esteem me

Your most &c.

CXIX.

The last letter written by Addison commends in these touching terms to the favour of his successor Mr. Craggs, the fortunes of his young friend and literary executor Tickell. It was long before that poet could so far command his grief as to write the elegy on Addison, which is one of the finest products of English verse in the eighteenth century; and, before it was finished, Craggs had followed Addison to the grave. A few days before the writing of this letter, the great essayist had given Tickel directions for publishing his complete works.

Joseph Addison to Mr. Secretary Craggs.

June, 1719.

Dear Sir, I cannot wish that any of my writings should last longer than the memory of our friendship, and therefore I thus publicly bequeath them to you, in return for the many valuable instances of your affection.

That they may come to you with as little disadvantage as possible, I have left the care of them to one, whom, by the experience of some years, I know well-qualified to answer my intentions. He has already the honour and happiness of being under your protection; and as he will very much stand in need of it, I cannot wish him better than that he may continue to deserve the favour and protection of such a patron.

I have no time to lay out in forming such compliments, as would but ill suit that familiarity between us, which was once my greatest pleasure, and will be my greatest honour hereafter.

Instead of them, accept of my hearty wishes that the great reputation you have acquired so early, may increase more and more: and that you may long serve your country with those excellent talents, and unblemished integrity, which have so powerfully recommended you to the most gracious and amiable monarch that ever filled a throne.

May the frankness and generosity of your spirit continue to soften and subdue your enemies, and gain you many friends, if possible, as sincere as yourself. When you have found such, they cannot wish you more true happiness than I, who am with the greatest zeal, &c.

CXX.

Lord Bolingbroke is writing to announce an event which was
full of importance in marking an exceptional career.
The Royal
assent had just been given to a Bill allowing him to return to
England and to the possession of his property; but Parliament,
by refusing to cancel his Attainder, insisted on keeping so dan-
gerous and insinuating a rival at arm's length. Permanently
deprived of his seat in the House of Lords he found an outlet
for his bitterness in the pages of the 'Craftsman,' but neither as
St. John Viscount Bolingbroke nor as Humphrey Oldcastle was
he able to make headway against that Whig ascendancy which
lasted even beyond the remaining twenty-five years of his life.

Lord Bolingbroke to Dean Swift.

London: July 24, 1725.

Mr. Ford will tell you how I do, and what I do. Tired with suspense, the only insupportable misfortune of life, I desired, after nine years of autumnal promises and vernal excuses, a decision; and cared very little what that decision was, provided it left me a liberty to settle abroad, or put me on a foot of living agreeably at home. The wisdom of the nation has thought fit, instead of granting so reasonable a request, to pass an act, which fixing my fortune unalterably to this country, fixes my person there also: and those, who had the least mind to see me in England, have made it impossible for me to live any where else. Here I am then, two-thirds restored, my person safe, (unless I meet hereafter

my estate, with all the acquire, secured to me.

with harder treatment than even that of Sir Walter Raleigh) and other property I have acquired, or may But the attainder is kept carefully and

prudently in force, lest so corrupt a member should come again into the house of lords, and his bad leaven should sour that sweet, untainted mass. Thus much I thought I might say about my private affairs to an old friend, without diverting him too long from his labours to promote the advantage of the church and stato of Ireland; or, from his travels into those countries of giants and pigmies, from whence he imports a cargo I value at an higher rate than that of the richest galleon. Ford brought the dean of Derry to see me. Unfortunately for me, I was then out of town; and the journey of the former into Ireland will perhaps defer, for some time, my making acquaintance with the other, which I am sorry for. I would not by any means lose the opportunity of knowing a man, who can espouse in good earnest the system of father Malebranche, and who is fond of going a missionary into the West Indies. My zeal for the propagation of the Gospel will hardly carry me so far; but my spleen against Europe has, more than once, made me think of buying the dominion of Bermudas, and spending the remainder of my days as far as possible from those people, with whom I have passed the first and greatest part of my life. Health and every other natural comfort of life is to be had there, better than here. As to imaginary and artificial pleasures, we are philosophers enough to despise them. What say you? Will you leave your Hibernian flock to some other shepherd, and transplant yourself with me into the middle of the Atlantic ocean? We will form a society more reasonable, and more useful than that of doctor Berkeley's College: and I promise you solemnly, as supreme magistrate, not to suffer the currency of Wood's halfpence: 2 Nay, the coiner of them shall be hanged, if he presumes to set his foot on our island.

1

Let me hear how you are, and what you do; and if you really

1 Dr. Berkeley obtained a charter for establishing a University in the Bermudas for the general improvement and education of our colonies, but the design miscarried for lack of money.

2 Allusion to the Drapier Letters,' written by Swift against the introduction into Ireland of a new copper coinage to be supplied by Birmingham speculator, William Wood.