Part 13

My uncle and I went thither with Mr Barton, who, being one of the duke’s adherents, undertook to be our introducer--The room was pretty well filled with people, in a great variety of dress; but there was no more than one gown and cassock, though I was told his grace had, while he was minister, preferred almost every individual that now filled the bench of bishops in the house of lords; but in all probability, the gratitude of the clergy is like their charity, which shuns the light--Mr Barton was immediately accosted by a person well stricken in years, tall, and raw-boned, with a hook-nose, and an arch leer, that indicated, at least, as much cunning as sagacity. Our conductor saluted him, by the name of captain C--, and afterwards informed us he was a man of shrewd parts, whom the government occasionally employed in secret services. But I have had the history of him more at large, from another quarter. He had been, many years ago, concerned in fraudulent practices, as a merchant, in France; and being convicted of some of them, was sent to the gallies, from whence he was delivered by the interest of the late duke of Ormond, to whom he had recommended himself in letter, as his name-sake and relation--He was in the sequel, employed by our ministry as a spy; and in the war of 1740, traversed all Spain, as well as France, in the disguise of a capuchin, at the extreme hazard of his life, in as much as the court of Madrid had actually got scent of him, and given orders to apprehend him at St Sebastian’s, from whence he had fortunately retired but a few hours before the order arrived. This and other hair-breadth ‘scapes he pleaded so effectually as a merit with the English ministry, that they allowed him a comfortable pension, which he now enjoys in his old age--He has still access to all the ministers, and is said to be consulted by them on many subjects, as a man of uncommon understanding and great experience--He is, in fact, a fellow of some parts, and invincible assurance; and, in his discourse, he assumes such an air of self-sufficiency, as may very well impose upon some of the shallow politicians, who now labour at the helm of administration. But, if he is not belied, this is not the only imposture of which he is guilty--They say, he is at bottom not only a Roman-catholic, but really a priest; and while he pretends to disclose to our state-pilots all the springs that move the cabinet of Versailles, he is actually picking up intelligence for the service of the French minister. Be that as it may, captain C-- entered into conversation with us in the most familiar manner, and treated the duke’s character without any ceremony--‘This wiseacre (said he) is still a-bed; and, I think, the best thing he can do, is to sleep on till Christmas; for, when he gets up, he does nothing but expose his own folly.--Since Grenville was turned out, there has been no minister in this nation worth the meal that whitened his peri-wig--They are so ignorant, they scarce know a crab from a cauliflower; and then they are such dunces, that there’s no making them comprehend the plainest proposition--In the beginning of the war, this poor half-witted creature told me, in a great fright, that thirty thousand French had marched from Acadie to Cape Breton--“Where did they find transports? (said I)” “Transports (cried he) I tell you they marched by land”--“By land to the island of Cape Breton?” “What! is Cape Breton an island?” “Certainly.” “Ha! are you sure of that?” When I pointed it out in the map, he examined it earnestly with his spectacles; then, taking me in his arms, “My dear C--! (cried he) you always bring us good news--Egad! I’ll go directly, and tell the king that Cape Breton is an island.”’

He seemed disposed to entertain us with more anecdotes of this nature, at the expense of his grace, when he was interrupted by the arrival of the Algerine ambassador; a venerable Turk, with a long white beard, attended by his dragoman, or interpreter, and another officer of his household, who had got no stockings to his legs--Captain C-- immediately spoke with an air of authority to a servant in waiting, bidding him go and tell the duke to rise, as there was a great deal of company come, and, among others, the ambassador from Algiers. Then, turning to us, ‘This poor Turk (said he) notwithstanding his grey beard, is a green-horn--He has been several years resident in London, and still is ignorant of our political revolutions. This visit is intended for the prime minister of England; but you’ll see how this wise duke will receive it as a mark of attachment to his own person’--Certain it is, the duke seemed eager to acknowledge the compliment--A door opened, he suddenly bolted out; with a shaving-cloth under his chin, his face frothed up to the eyes with soap lather; and running up to the ambassador, grinned hideous in his face--‘My dear Mahomet! (said he) God love your long beard, I hope the dey will make you a horsetail at the next promotion, ha, ha, ha! Have but a moment’s patience, and I’ll send to you in a twinkling,’--So saying, he retired into his den, leaving the Turk in some confusion. After a short pause, however, he said something to his interpreter, the meaning of which I had great curiosity to know, as he turned up his eyes while he spoke, expressing astonishment, mixed with devotion. We were gratified by means of the communicative captain C--, who conversed with the dragoman, as an old acquaintance. Ibrahim, the ambassador, who had mistaken his grace for the minister’s fool, was no sooner undeceived by the interpreter, than he exclaimed to this effect ‘Holy prophet! I don’t wonder that this nation prospers, seeing it is governed by the counsel of ideots; a series of men, whom all good mussulmen revere as the organs of immediate inspiration!’ Ibrahim was favoured with a particular audience of short duration; after which the duke conducted him to the door, and then returned to diffuse his gracious looks among the crowd of his worshippers.

As Mr Barton advanced to present me to his grace, it was my fortune to attract his notice, before I was announced--He forthwith met me more than half way, and, seizing me by the hand, ‘My dear Sir Francis! (cried he) this is so kind--I vow to God! I am so obliged--Such attention to a poor broken minister. Well--Pray when does your excellency set sail?--For God’s sake have a care of your health, and eat stewed prunes in the passage. Next to your own precious health, pray, my dear excellency, take care of the Five Nations--Our good friends the Five Nations. The Toryrories, the Maccolmacks, the Out-o’the-ways, the Crickets, and the Kickshaws--Let ‘em have plenty of blankets, and stinkubus, and wampum; and your excellency won’t fail to scour the kettle, and boil the chain, and bury the tree, and plant the hatchet--Ha, ha, ha!’ When he had uttered this rhapsody, with his usual precipitation, Mr Barton gave him to understand, that I was neither Sir Francis, nor St Francis, but simply Mr Melford, nephew to Mr Bramble; who, stepping forward, made his bow at the same time. ‘Odso! no more it is Sir Francis--(said this wise statesman) Mr Melford, I’m glad to see you--I sent you an engineer to fortify your dock--Mr Bramble--your servant, Mr Bramble--How d’ye, good Mr Bramble? Your nephew is a pretty young fellow--Faith and troth, a very pretty fellow!--His father is my old friend--How does he hold it? Still troubled with that damned disorder, ha?’ ‘No, my lord (replied my uncle), all his troubles are over--He has been dead these fifteen years.’ ‘Dead! how--Yes faith! now I remember: he is dead sure enough--Well, and how--does the young gentleman stand for Haverford West? or--a what d’ye. My dear Mr Milfordhaven, I’ll do you all the service in my power I hope I have some credit left’--My uncle then gave him to understand, that I was still a minor; and that we had no intention to trouble him at present, for any favour whatsoever--‘I came hither with my nephew (added he) to pay our respects to your grace; and I may venture to say, that his views and mine are at least as disinterested as those of any individual in this assembly.’ ‘My dear Mr Brambleberry! you do me infinite honour--I shall always rejoice to see you and your hopeful nephew, Mr Milfordhaven--My credit, such as it is, you may command--I wish we had more friends of your kidney.’

Then, turning to captain C--, ‘Ha, C--! (said he) what news, C--? How does the world wag? ha!’ ‘The world wags much after the old fashion, my lord (answered the captain): the politicians of London and Westminster have begun again to wag their tongues against your grace; and your short-lived popularity wags like a feather, which the next puff of antiministerial calumny will blow away’--‘A pack of rascals (cried the duke)--Tories, Jacobites, rebels; one half of them would wag their heels at Tyburn, if they had their deserts’--So saying, he wheeled about; and going round the levee, spoke to every individual, with the most courteous familiarity; but he scarce ever opened his mouth without making some blunder, in relation to the person or business of the party with whom he conversed; so that he really looked like a comedian, hired to burlesque the character of a minister--At length, a person of a very prepossessing appearance coming in, his grace ran up, and, hugging him in his arms, with the appellation of ‘My dear Ch--s!’ led him forthwith into the inner apartment, or Sanctum Sanctorum of this political temple. ‘That (said captain C--) is my friend C-- T--, almost the only man of parts who has any concern in the present administration--Indeed, he would have no concern at all in the matter, if the ministry did not find it absolutely necessary to make use of his talents upon some particular occasions--As for the common business of the nation, it is carried on in a constant routine by the clerks of the different offices, otherwise the wheels of government would be wholly stopt amidst the abrupt succession of ministers, every one more ignorant than his predecessor--I am thinking what a fine hovel we should be in, if all the clerks of the treasury, the secretaries, of the war-office, and the admiralty, should take it in their heads to throw up their places in imitation of the great pensioner--But, to return to C-- T--; he certainly knows more than all the ministry and all the opposition, if their heads were laid together, and talks like an angel on a vast variety of subjects. He would really be a great man, if he had any consistency or stability of character--Then, it must be owned, he wants courage, otherwise he would never allow himself to be cowed by the great political bully, for whose understanding he has justly a very great contempt. I have seen him as much afraid of that overbearing Hector, as ever schoolboy was of his pedagogue; and yet this Hector, I shrewdly suspect, is no more than a craven at bottom--Besides this defect, C-- has another, which he is at too little pains to hide--There’s no faith to be given to his assertions, and no trust to be put in his promises--However, to give the devil his due, he’s very good-natured; and even friendly, when close urged in the way of solicitation--As for principle, that’s out of the question--In a word, he is a wit and an orator, extremely entertaining, and he shines very often at the expence even of those ministers to whom he is a retainer. This is a mark of great imprudence, by which he has made them all his enemies, whatever face they may put upon the matter; and sooner or later he’ll have cause to wish he had been able to keep his own counsel. I have several times cautioned him on this subject; but ‘tis all preaching to the desert--His vanity runs away with his discretion’--I could not help thinking the captain himself might have been the better for some hints of the same nature--His panegyric, excluding principle and veracity, puts me in mind of a contest I once overheard, in the way of altercation, betwixt two apple-women in Spring-garden--One of those viragos having hinted something to the prejudice of the other’s moral character, her antagonist, setting her hands in her sides, replied--‘Speak out, hussy--I scorn your malice--I own I’m both a whore and a thief; and what more have you to say?--Damn you, what more have you to say? baiting that, which all the world knows, I challenge you to say black is the white of my eye’--We did not wait for Mr T--‘s coming forth; but after captain C-- had characterised all the originals in waiting, we adjourned to a coffeehouse, where we had buttered muffins and tea to breakfast, the said captain still favouring us with his company--Nay, my uncle was so diverted with his anecdotes, that he asked him to dinner, and treated him with a fine turbot, to which he did ample justice--That same evening I spent at the tavern with some friends, one of whom let me into C--‘s character, which Mr Bramble no sooner understood, than he expressed some concern for the connexion he had made, and resolved to disengage himself from it without ceremony.

We are become members of the Society for the Encouragement of the Arts, and have assisted at some of their deliberations, which were conducted with equal spirit and sagacity--My uncle is extremely fond of the institution, which will certainly be productive of great advantages to the public, if, from its democratical form, it does not degenerate into cabal and corruption--You are already acquainted with his aversion to the influence of the multitude, which, he affirms, is incompatible with excellence, and subversive of order--Indeed his detestation of the mob has been heightened by fear, ever since he fainted in the room at Bath; and this apprehension has prevented him from going to the Little Theatre in the Hay-market, and other places of entertainment, to which, however, I have had the honour to attend the ladies.

It grates old Square-toes to reflect, that it is not in his power to enjoy even the most elegant diversions of the capital, without the

## participation of the vulgar; for they now thrust themselves into all

assemblies, from a ridotto at St James’s, to a hop at Rotherhithe. I have lately seen our old acquaintance Dick Ivy, who we imagined had died of dram-drinking; but he is lately emerged from the Fleet, by means of a pamphlet which he wrote and published against the government with some success. The sale of this performance enabled him to appear in clean linen, and he is now going about soliciting subscriptions for his Poems; but his breeches are not yet in the most decent order.

Dick certainly deserves some countenance for his intrepidity and perseverance--It is not in the power of disappointment, nor even of damnation, to drive him to despair--After some unsuccessful essays in the way of poetry, he commenced brandy-merchant, and I believe his whole stock ran out through his own bowels; then he consorted with a milk-woman, who kept a cellar in Petty France: but he could not make his quarters good; he was dislodged and driven up stairs into the kennel by a corporal in the second regiment of foot-guards--He was afterwards the laureat of Blackfriars, from whence there was a natural transition to the Fleet--As he had formerly miscarried in panegyric, he now turned his thoughts to satire, and really seems to have some talent for abuse. If he can hold out till the meeting of the parliament, and be prepared for another charge, in all probability Dick will mount the pillory, or obtain a pension, in either of which events his fortune will be made--Mean while he has acquired some degree of consideration with the respectable writers of the age; and as I have subscribed for his works, he did me the favour t’other night to introduce me to a society of those geniuses; but I found them exceedingly formal and reserved--They seemed afraid and jealous of one another, and sat in a state of mutual repulsion, like so many particles of vapour, each surrounded by its own electrified atmosphere. Dick, who has more vivacity than judgment, tried more than once to enliven the conversation; sometimes making an effort at wit, sometimes letting off a pun, and sometimes discharging a conundrum; nay, at length he started a dispute upon the hackneyed comparison betwixt blank verse and rhyme, and the professors opened with great clamour; but, instead of keeping to the subject, they launched out into tedious dissertations on the poetry of the ancients; and one of them, who had been a school-master, displayed his whole knowledge of prosody, gleaned from Disputer and Ruddiman. At last, I ventured to say, I did not see how the subject in question could be at all elucidated by the practice of the ancients, who certainly had neither blank verse nor rhyme in their poems, which were measured by feet, whereas ours are reckoned by the number of syllables--This remark seemed to give umbrage to the pedant, who forthwith involved himself in a cloud of Greek and Latin quotations, which nobody attempted to dispel--A confused hum of insipid observations and comments ensued; and, upon the whole, I never passed a duller evening in my life--Yet, without all doubt, some of them were men of learning, wit, and ingenuity. As they are afraid of making free with one another, they should bring each his butt, or whet-stone, along with him, for the entertainment of the company--My uncle says, he never desires to meet with more than one wit at a time--One wit, like a knuckle of ham in soup, gives a zest and flavour to the dish; but more than one serves only to spoil the pottage--And now I’m afraid I have given you an unconscionable mess, without any flavour at all; for which, I suppose, you will bestow your benedictions upon

Your friend, and servant J. MELFORD LONDON, June 5

To Dr LEWIS.

DEAR LEWIS

Your fable of the monkey and the pig, is what the Italians call ben trovata: but I shall not repeat it to my apothecary, who is a proud Scotchman, very thin skinned, and, for aught I know, may have his degree in his pocket--A right Scotchman has always two strings to his bow, and is in utrumque paratus--Certain it is, I have not ‘scaped a scouring; but, I believe, by means of that scouring, I have ‘scaped something worse, perhaps a tedious fit of the gout or rheumatism; for my appetite began to flag, and I had certain croakings in the bowels, which boded me no good--Nay, I am not yet quite free of these remembrances, which warn me to be gone from this centre of infection--

What temptation can a man of my turn and temperament have, to live in a place where every corner teems with fresh objects of detestation and disgust? What kind of taste and organs must those people have, who really prefer the adulterate enjoyments of the town to the genuine pleasures of a country retreat? Most people, I know, are originally seduced by vanity, ambition, and childish curiosity; which cannot be gratified, but in the busy haunts of men: but, in the course of this gratification, their very organs of sense are perverted, and they become habitually lost to every relish of what is genuine and excellent in its own nature.

Shall I state the difference between my town grievances, and my country comforts? At Brambleton-hall, I have elbow-room within doors, and breathe a clear, elastic, salutary air--I enjoy refreshing sleep, which is never disturbed by horrid noise, nor interrupted, but in a-morning, by the sweet twitter of the martlet at my window--I drink the virgin lymph, pure and chrystalline as it gushes from the rock, or the sparkling beveridge, home-brewed from malt of my own making; or I indulge with cyder, which my own orchard affords; or with claret of the best growth, imported for my own use, by a correspondent on whose integrity I can depend; my bread is sweet and nourishing, made from my own wheat, ground in my own mill, and baked in my own oven; my table is, in a great measure, furnished from my own ground; my five-year old mutton, fed on the fragrant herbage of the mountains, that might vie with venison in juice and flavour; my delicious veal, fattened with nothing but the mother’s milk, that fills the dish with gravy; my poultry from the barn-door, that never knew confinement, but when they were at roost; my rabbits panting from the warren; my game fresh from the moors; my trout and salmon struggling from the stream; oysters from their native banks; and herrings, with other sea fish, I can eat in four hours after they are taken--My sallads, roots, and potherbs, my own garden yields in plenty and perfection; the produce of the natural soil, prepared by moderate cultivation. The same soil affords all the different fruits which England may call her own, so that my dessert is every day fresh-gathered from the tree; my dairy flows with nectarious tildes of milk and cream, from whence we derive abundance of excellent butter, curds, and cheese; and the refuse fattens my pigs, that are destined for hams and bacon--I go to bed betimes, and rise with the sun--I make shift to pass the hours without weariness or regret, and am not destitute of amusements within doors, when the weather will not permit me to go abroad--I read, and chat, and play at billiards, cards or back-gammon--Without doors, I superintend my farm, and execute plans of improvements, the effects of which I enjoy with unspeakable delight--Nor do I take less pleasure in seeing my tenants thrive under my auspices, and the poor live comfortably by the employment which I provide--You know I have one or two sensible friends, to whom I can open all my heart; a blessing which, perhaps, I might have sought in vain among the crowded scenes of life: there are a few others of more humble parts, whom I esteem for their integrity; and their conversation I find inoffensive, though not very entertaining. Finally, I live in the midst of honest men, and trusty dependents, who, I flatter myself, have a disinterested attachment to my person. You, yourself, my dear Doctor, can vouch for the truth of these assertions.