LETTERS TO AND FROM SEVERAL PERSONS. From 1714 to 1721. LETTER I. THE REV. DEAN BERKLEY* TO MR. POPE. Leghorn, May 1, 1714. As I take ingratitude to be a greater crime than im pertinence, I choose rather to run the risk of being thought guilty of the latter, than not to return you *We may with juftice apply to this truly great man, Berkley, what he himself fo finely fays of his favourite Plato; "That he hath joined with an Imagination the moft fplendid and magnificent, an Intellect not lefs deep and clear." A morfel of poetry from such a writer ought to be preserved as a literary curiofity, and a proof of the great variety of his talents; efpecially as it was written, almost with a prophetic spirit, above seventy years ago, and confequently before the events, in the country alluded to, could poffibly have been foreseen. He intitled them, On the Profpect of planting Arts and Learning in America. Barren of every glorious theme, In diftant lands now waits a better time, Producing fubjects worthy fame: 1 you my thanks for a very agreeable entertainment you : now gave me. I have accidentally met with your ape of the Lock here, having never seen it before. Style, painting, judgment, fpirit, I had already admired in other of your writings; but in this I am charmed with the magic of your invention, with all thofe images, allufions, and inexplicable beauties, which you raise so surprisingly, and at the fame time fo naturally, out of a trifle. And yet I cannot say that I was more pleased with the reading of it, than I am with the pretext it gives me to renew in your thoughts, the remembrance of one who values no happiness beyond the friendship of men of wit, learning, and good-nature. In happy climes, where, from the genial fun I remember In happy climes, the feat of innocence, Not fuch as Europe breeds in her decay; Weftward the course of empire takes its way; A fifth fhall close the drama with the day; I remember to have heard you mention some halfformed defign of coming to Italy. What might e not expect from a Muse that fings fo well in ti bleak climate of England, if she felt the same warm fun, and breathed the fame air with Virgil and Horace? There are here an incredible number of Poets, that have all the inclination, but want the genius, or perhaps the art, of the Ancients. Some among them, who understand English, begin to relifh our Authors; and I am informed, that at Florence they have tranflated Milton into Italian verfe. If one who knows fo well how to write like the old Latin poets, came among them, it would probably be a means to retrieve them from their cold, trivial conceits, to an imitation of their predeceffors. As merchants, antiquaries, men of pleasure, etc. have all different views in travelling; I know not whether it might not be worth a Poet's while, to travel, in order to store his mind with strong images of Nature. Green fields and groves, flowery meadows and purling ftreams are no where in fuch perfection as in England: but if you would know lightsome days, warm funs, and blue skies, you must come to Italy: and to enable a man to defcribe rocks and precipices, it is abfolutely neceffary that he pass the Alps. * You * When Thomson was told that Glover was writing an epic poem, he exclaimed, "He write an epic poem, a Londoner, who has never seen a mountain!" You will eafily perceive that it is felf-interest makes me fo fond of giving advice to one who has 'no need of it. If you came into these parts I fhould fly to see you. I am here (by the favour of my good friend the Dean of St. Patrick's) in quality of Chaplain to the Earl of Peterborough; who above three months fince left the greatest part of his family in this town. God knows how long we shall stay here. I am Your, etc. LETTER II. MR. POPE TO MR. JERVAS IN IRELAND. June 9, 1716. THOUGH, as you rightly remark, I pay my tax but once in half a year, yet you shall see by this letter upon the neck of my last, that I the pay a double tax, as we non-jurors ought to do. Your acquaintance on this fide of the sea are under terrible apprehenfions from your long ftay in Ireland, that you may grow too polite for them; for we think (fince great fuccefs of fuch a play as the Non-juror) that politeness is gone over the water: but others are of opinion it has been longer among you, and was introduced much about the fame time with Frogs, and with equal Success. Poor Poetry! the little that is left of it here longs to cross the feas, and leave Eufden in full and peaceable poffeffion of the British laurel : and and we begin to wish you had the finging of our poets, as well as the croaking of our frogs, to yourselves, in fæcula fæculorum. It would be well in exchange, if Parnelle, and two or three more of your Swans would come hither, efpecially that Swan, who, like a true modern one, does not fing at all, Dr. Swift. I am (like the rest of the world) a sufferer by his idlenefs. Indeed I hate that any man fhould be idle, while I must tranflate and comment; and I may the more fincerely wifh for good poetry from others, because I am become a Perfon out of the question; for a Tranflator is no more a Poet, than a Taylor is a Man. You are, doubtlefs, perfuaded of the validity of that famous verse, 'Tis Expectation makes a Bleffing dear: you but why would you make your friends fonder of than they are? There is no manner of need of it. We begin to expect you no more than Anti-chrift; a man that hath absented himself so long from his friends, ought to be put into the Gazette. Every body here has great need of you. Many faces have died for want of your pencil, and blooming •Ladies have withered in expecting your return. Even Frank and Betty (that conftant pair) cannot confole themselves for your abfence; I fancy they will be forced to make their own picture in a pretty babe, before you come home: 'twill be a noble fubject for a family |