DESCRIPTION OF A JOURNEY TO OXFORD.

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talent or of moral worth—and of these, in his latter days, the world made cheerful recognition-but the elder bard, diffident and retiring-" not a genteel man," as Pope saidcould not command the arts which permanently please and attract in high society. He could flatter the great, but wanted skill to court them.

Shortly after the delivery of the first volume of his Homer, Pope made a journey to Oxford on horseback, having borrowed his steed from the Earl of Burlington. When in Windsor Forest, on his way, he was overtaken by Bernard Lintot, who had heard that the poet designed to go to Oxford, "the seat of the Muses," and who, as his bookseller, would by all means accompany him. Pope, on arriving at Oxford, wrote to Lord Burlington an account of his journey and adventures on the road, in which Lintot figures largely, describing both himself and the "eminent hands" who worked for him, as translators and critics. The letter is one of Pope's most humorous prose sketches. Smollett in his Humphrey Clinker describes a meeting of Grub Street authors, in his house at Chelsea, which bears some resemblance to Pope's lively caricature, and shows that fifty years had wrought little alteration in this class.

I asked him where he got his horse? He answered, he got it of his publisher: "For that rogue my printer (said he) disappointed me: I hoped to put him in good humour by a treat at the tavern, of a brown fricassee of rabbits, which cost two shillings, with two quarts of wine, besides my conversation. I thought myself cocksure of his horse, which he readily promised me, but said, that Mr. Tonson had just such another design of going to Cambridge, expecting there the copy of a new kind of Horace from Dr. —, and if Mr. Tonson went, he was pre-engaged to attend him,* being to have the printing of the said copy.

"So in short I borrowed this horse of my publisher, which he had of Mr. Oldmixon for a debt; he lent me too the pretty boy you see after me. He was a smutty dog yesterday, and cost me near two hours to wash the ink off his face; but the devil is a fair-conditioned devil, and very forward in his catechise: if you have any more bags, he shall carry them."

I thought Mr. Lintot's civility not to be neglected, so gave the boy a small bag, containing three shirts, and an Elzevir Virgil; and mounting in

an instant, proceeded on the road, with my man before, my courteous stationer beside, and the aforesaid devil behind.

Mr. Lintot began in this manner: "Now damn them! what if they should put it into the newspaper, how you and I went together to Oxford? what would I care? If I should go down into Sussex, they would say I was gone to the Speaker. But what of that? If my son were big enough to go on with the business, by G-d I would keep as good company as old Jacob."

Hereupon I inquired of his son. "The lad (says he) has fine parts, but is somewhat sickly, much as you are.-I spare for nothing in his education at Westminster. Pray, do not you think Westminster to be the best school in England? Most of the late ministry came out of it, so did many of this ministry. I hope the boy will make his fortune."

Do not you design to let him pass a year at Oxford? "To what purpose? (said he.) The universities do but make pedants, and I intend to breed him a man of business."

As Mr. Lintot was talking, I observed he sat uneasy on his saddle, for which I expressed some solicitude. Nothing, says he: I can bear it well enough; but since we have the day before us, methinks it would be very pleasant for you to rest awhile under the woods. When we were alighted, "See here, what a mighty pretty Horace I have in my pocket! what if you amused yourself in turning an ode till we mount again? Lord! if you pleased, what a clever miscellany might you make at leisure hours!" Perhaps I may, said I, if we ride on; the motion is an aid to my fancy, a round trot very much awakens my spirits. Then jog on apace, and I will think as hard as I can.

Silence ensued for a full hour; after which Mr. Lintot lugged the reins, stopped short, and broke out, “Well, Sir, how far have you gone?” I answered, Seven miles. "Z-ds, Sir," said Lintot, "I thought you had done seven stanzas. Oldsworth, in a ramble round Wimbleton-hill, would translate a whole ode in half this time. I will say that for Oldsworth, (though I lost by his Timothy's), he translates an ode of Horace the quickest of any man in England. I remember Dr. King would write verses in a tavern three hours after he could not speak; and there is Sir Richard, in that rumbling old chariot of his, between Fleet-ditch and St. Giles's pond, shall make you half a Job." Pray, Mr. Lintot (said I), now you talk of translators, what is your method of managing them? "Sir (replied he), those are the saddest pack of rogues in the world: in a hungry fit they will swear they understand all the languages in the universe: I have known one of them take down a Greek book upon my counter, and cry, Ah, this is Hebrew, I must read it from the latter end. By G-d I can never be sure in these fellows, for I neither understand Greek, Latin, French, nor Italian myself. But this is

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my way; I agree with them for ten shillings per sheet, with a proviso, that I will have their doings corrected by whom I please; so by one or other they are led at last to the true sense of an author; my judgment giving the negative to all my translators." But how are you secure those correctors may not impose upon you? “Why, I get any civil gentleman (especially any Scotchman), that comes into my shop, to read the original to me in English; by this I know whether my first translator be deficient, and whether my corrector merits his money or not.

"I will tell you what happened to me last month: I bargained with S— for a new version of Lucretius to publish against Tonson's, agreeing to pay the author so many shillings at his producing so many lines. He made a great progress in a very short time, and I gave it to the corrector to compare with the Latin; but he went directly to Creech's translation, and found it the same word for word, all but the first page. Now, what do you think I did? I arrested the translator for a cheat; nay, and I stopt the corrector's pay too, upon this proof that he had made use of Creech instead of the original."

Pray tell me next how you deal with the critics? "Sir (said he), nothing more easy. I can silence the most formidable of them: The rich ones for a sheet apiece of the blotted manuscript, which costs me nothing; they will go about with it to their acquaintance, and pretend they had it from the author, who submitted to their correction. This has given some of them such an air, that in time they come to be consulted with, and dedicated to, as the top critics of the town. As for the poor critics, I will give you one instance of my management, by which you may guess at the rest. A lean man, that looked like a very good scholar, came to me the other day; he turned over your Homer, shook his head, shrugged up his shoulders, and pished at every line of it. One would wonder (says he) at the strange presumption of some men; Homer is no such easy task, that every stripling, every versifier-He was going on when my wife called to dinner: Sir, said I, will you please to eat a piece of beef with me? Mr. Lintot, said he, I am sorry you should be at the expense of this great book, I am really concerned on your account-Sir, I am much obliged to you: If you can dine upon a piece of beef, together with a slice of pudding-Mr. Lintot, I do not say but Mr. Pope, if he would condescend to advise with men of learning-Sir, the pudding is upon the table, if you please to go in -My critic complies, he comes to a taste of your poetry, and tells me in the same breath, that the book is commendable, and the pudding excellent.

"Now, sir (concluded Mr. Lintot), in return to the frankness I have shown, pray tell me, is it the opinion of your friends at court that my Lord Lansdowne will be brought to the bar or not?" I told him I heard he would not, and I hoped it, my lord being one I had particular obligations

to.

"That may be (replied Mr. Lintot), but by G-d if he is not, I shall lose the printing of a very good trial."

These, my lord, are a few traits by which you may discern the genius of Mr. Lintot, which I have chosen for the subject of a letter. I dropt him as soon as I got to Oxford, and paid a visit to my Lord Carleton and Middleton.

The Stuart insurrection of 1715-16 had little effect in disturbing Pope in his town haunts or forest retreat. The Tories of Oxford drank King James's health and talked bravely over their flowing cups, but the appearance of a squadron of horse and the seizure of a few suspected persons, instantly reduced Alma Mater to silence and obedience. None of the Catholic families in the county were implicated. Pope's friends were all safe; and, as for himself, he thanked God he was below all the accidents of state changes by his circumstances, and above them by his philosophy. He was by no means disposed to become a martyr, either for the Church or the Chevalier. There was one friend, however, who seems to have sympathised deeply with the insurgents, and to have keenly lamented the misery occasioned by the rash enterprise. This was Mr. Edward Blount, a Devonshire gentleman, related to the Blounts of Oxfordshire.3 "What a dismal scene has there been opened in the north!" exclaims Mr. Blount. "What ruin have those unfortunate rash gentlemen drawn upon themselves and their miserable followers,-and perchance upon many others, too, who upon no account would be their followers." In this number, Mr. Blount himself is supposed to have been included. A conspiracy had been formed in the west of England, and the Duke of Ormond was expected to land in Devonshire. Numerous arrests took place, and though Mr. Blount was probably wholly innocent, as a Catholic gentleman of wealth and influence he was suspected, and he resolved to quit the country. "Our homes," he wrote to Pope, "must either be left or be made too narrow for us

3 Son of Sir George Blount, of Sodington. See Appendix to this Memoir.

JERVAS'S HOUSE IN CLEVELAND COURT.

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to turn in." He exhorted the poet to leave laziness and the elms in St. James's Park, and, joining safety with friendship, go with him where war would not reach them, nor paltry constables summon them to vestries. At this time Pope was much in London. Jervas had gone on a visit to Ireland, his native country,

and the bachelor establishment in Cleveland Court was at the entire command of the

poet. "As to your inquiry about your house," he writes to Jervas, "when I came within the walls, they put me in mind of those of Carthage, where you find, like the wandering Trojan, animum picturâ pascit inani; for the spacious mansion, like a Turkish caravansera, entertains the vagabonds with bare lodgings. rule the family very ill, keep

I

JERVAS.

bad hours, and lend out your pictures about the town. See what it is to keep a poet in your house! Frank, indeed, does all he can in such circumstances; for, considering he has a wild beast in it, he constantly keeps the door chained. Every time it opens the links rattle, the rusty hinges roar. The house seems so sensible that you are all its support, it is ready to drop in your absence; but I still trust myself under its roof, as depending that Providence will preserve so many Raphaels, Titians, and Guidos as are lodged in your cabinet. Surely the sins of one poet can hardly be so heavy as to bring an old house over the heads of so many painters. In a word, your house is falling; but what of that? I am only a lodger." Such badinage would amuse Pope while writing it, and still more Jervas and Swift while reading and discussing it over their wine, in the spacious and gaunt deanery of St. Patrick's. Thus amused, and busy with