ferves the memory of a Knight whofe iron armour is long fince perished with ruft, and whofe alabafter nofe is mouldered from his monument. The face of dame Eleanor in another piece owes more to that fingle pane than to all the glaffes fhe ever confulted in her life. After this, who can fay that glafs is frail, when it is not halffo frail as human beauty, or glory! and yet I cannot but figh to think that the most authentic record of fo ancient a family fhould lie at the mercy of every infant who flings a ftone. In former days there have dined in this hall gartered knights and courtly dames, attended by ufhers, fewers, and fenefchals; and yet it was but last night, that an owl flew hither, and mistook it for a barn. This hall lets you (up and down) over a very high threshold into the great parlour. Its contents are a broken-bellied virginal, a couple of crippled velvet chairs, with two or three mildewed pictures of mouldy ancestors, who look as difmally as if they came fresh from hell with all their brimstone about them; thefe are carefully fet at the farther corner, for the windows being every where broken, make it fo convenient a place to dry poppies and mustard feed, that the room is appropriated to that ufe. Next this parlour, as I faid before, lies the pigeon-house, by the fide of which runs an entry, which lets you on one hand and the other into a bed-chamber, a buttery, and a final hole called the chaplain's ftudy: then follow a brewhoufe, a little green and gilt parlour, and the great ftairs, under which is the dairy; a little farther on the right the fervants hall; and by the fide of it, up fix fteps, the old lady's clofet for her private devotions; which has a lattice into the hall, intended (as we imagine) that at the fame time as fhe prayed, the might have an eye on the men and maids. There are upon the ground-floor in all twenty-fix apartments, among which I must not forget a chamber which has in it a large antiquity of timber, that feems to have been either a bedftead, or a cyder-prefs. The kitchen is built in form of the Rotunda, being one valt vault to the top of the houfe; where one aperture ferves to let out the fmoak, and let in the light. By the blackness of the walls, the circular fires, vaft cauldrons, yawning mouths of 499 ovens and furnaces, you would think it either the forge of Vulcan, the cave of Polypheme, or the temple of Moloch. The horror of this place has made fuch an impreffion on the country people, that they believe the witches keep their fabbath here, and that once a year the devil treats them with infernal venifon, a roafted tiger ftuffed with ten-penny nails. Above ftairs we have a number of rooms: you never pass out of one into another but by the afcent or defcent of two or three ftairs. Our best room is very long and low, of the exact proportion of a band-box. In most of these rooms there are hangings of the finest work in the world, that is to say, thofe which Arachne fpins from her own bowels. Were it not for this only furniture, the whole would be a miferable fcene of naked walls, flawed ciclings, broken windows, and rufty locks. The roof is fo decayed, that after a favourable fhower we may expect a crop of mushrooms between the chinks of our floors. All the doors are as little and low as thefe to the cabins of packetboats. Thefe rooms have for many years had no other inhabitants than certain rats, whofe very age renders them worthy of this feat, for the very rats of this venerable houfe are grey: fince these have not yet quitted it, we hope at least that this ancient manfion may not fall during the fmall remnant thefe poor animals have to live, who are now too infirm to remove to another. There is yet a fmall fubfiftence left them in the few remaining books of the library. We had never feen half what I have defcribed, but for a ftarched grey-headed fleward, who is as much an antiquity as any in this place, and looks like an old family picture walked out of its frame. He entertained us as we pafled from room to room with feveral relations of the family, but his obfervations were particularly curious when he came to the cellar: he informed us where flood the triple rows of butts of fack, and where were ranged the bottles of tent, for toasts in a morning; he pointed to the stands that fupported the iron-hooped hog fheads. of strong beer: then stepping to a corner, he lugged out the tattered fragments of an unframed picture; " This " (fays he, with tears) was poor Sir "Thomas! Kk 2 66 Thomas! once mafter of all this drink. "He had two fons, poor young malers! "who never arrived to the age of his beer; they both fell ill in this very room, and never went out on their "own legs." He could not pass by a heap of broken bottles without taking up a piece, to fhew us the arms of the family upon it. He then led us up the tower by dark winding ftone fleps, which landed us into feveral little rooms one above another. One of thefe was nailed up, and our guide whispered to us as a fecret the occafion of it: It feems the courfe of this noble blood was a little interrupted about two centuries ago, by a freak of the Lady Frances, who was here taken in the fact with a neighbouring prior, ever fince which the room has been nailed up, and branded with the name of the Adultery-Chamber. The ghoft of Lady Frances is fuppofed to walk there, and fome prying maids of the family report that they have seen a lady in a fardingale through the keyhole; but this matter is huthed up, and the fervants are forbid to talk of it. I must needs have tired you by this long defeription: but what engaged me in it, was a generous principle to preferve the memory of that, which itfelf mult foon fall into duft; nay perhaps part of it, before this letter reaches your hands. Indeed we owe this old houfe the fame kind of gratitude that we do to an old friend, who harbours us in his declining condition, nay even in his la extremi ties. How fit is this retreat for uninterrupted ftudy, where no one that paties by can dream there is an inhabitant, and even those who would dine with us dare not flay under our roof! Any one that fees it will own I could not have chofen a more likely place to converfe with the dead in. I had been mad indeed if I had left your Grace for any one but Homer. But when I return to the living, I fhall have the fenfe to endeavour to converfe with the best of them, and fall therefore as foon as poffible tell you in perfon how much I am, &c. LETTER LXXXVIII. The Duke of Buckingham to Mr. Pepe. defire You my opinion as to the late difpute in France concerning Homer: and I think it excufable (at an age, alas! of not much pleafure) to amufe myfelf a little in taking notice of a controverfy, than which nothing is at prefent more remarkable (even in a nation who value themfelves fo much upon the Belles Lettres) both on a ccount of the illuftrious fubject of it, and of the two perfons engaged in the quarrel. The one is extraordinary in all the lyric kind of poetry, even in the opinion of his very adverfary. The other a lady (and of more value for being fo) not only of great learning, but with a genius admirably turned to that fort of it whica moit becomes her fex, for foftnefs, gentleness, and promoting of virtue; and fuch as (one would think) is not fo liable as other parts of fcholarship, to righ difputes or violent animofity. Yet it has fo happened, that no ters, even about divinity itfelf, have been more outrageous or uncharitable the thefe two polite authors; by furering their judgments to be a little warped ( I may ufe that expreffion) by the heat c their eager inclinations, to attack or de fend fo great an author under debate. I with for the fake of the public, which i now fo well entertained by their quatre, it may not end at last in their agreeing blame a third man who is not fo pre fumptuous as to cenfure both, if they fhould chance to hear it. To begin with matter of fact. D'Acier has well judged, that the bes all poets certainly deierved a better tra lation, at least into French profe, b caufe to fee it done in verfe was deipant of: I believe indeed from a defe that language, incapable of mounting any degree of excellence fuitable to very great an undertaking. She has not only performed this as well as profe can do it (which is deed but as the wrong fide of tape is able to reprefent the right), the added to it alfo many learned and ufeld annotations. With all which the m obligingly delighted not only her ca fex, but most of ours, ignorant of th Greek, and confequently her adver himself, who frankly acknowledges th ignorance. It is no wonder therefore, if, in deng this, the is grown fo enamoured of unfpeakable charming author, as to have a kind of horror at the leait mention of a man bold enough to blame him. Now Now as to M. de la Motte, he being already defervedly famous for all forts of lyric poetry, was fo far introduced by her into thofe beauties of the epic kind (though but in that way of tranilation), as not to refift the pleasure and hope of reputation by attempting that in verfe which had been applauded fo much for the difficulty of doing it even in profe; knowing how this, well executed, muit extremely tranfcend the other. But, as great poets are a little apt to think they have an ancient right of being excufed for vanity on all occafions, he was not content to outdo M. D'Acier, but endeavoured to outdo Homer himfelf, and all that ever in any age or nation went before him in the fame enterprise; by leaving out, altering, or adding whatever he thought best. well, to leave any doubt (with all his faults) that her's can be ever paralleled with it. Befides, he could not be ignorant, that finding faults is the molt eafy and vulgar part of a critic; whereas nothing thews fo much skill and tafle, both, as the being thoroughly fenfible of the fublimeft excellencies. What can we fay in excufe of all this ? Humanum eft errare: fince as good a poet, as I believe the French language is capable of, and as fharp a critic as any nation can produce, has by too much cenfuring Homer fubjected a tranflation to cenfure, that would have otherwife flood the test of the fevereit adver fary. But fince he would needs chufe that wrong way of criticifm, I wonder he few the writer (I am afraid, to deTented that way himieli, as no' the bat to doubt his reader brug fo allo: lie Spazidlem, whefe d'imal pie ores are the more & Cerealle for wing always fo Against this prefumptuous attempt, mified a stone fo eafy to be thrown against Homer has been in all times fo well de- Homer, not for his filling the Iliad with fended, as not to need my fmall affift- fo much flaughter (for that is to be exance; yet I muft needs fay, his excel- cufed, fince a war is not capable of being lencies are fuch, that for their fakes he defcribed without it), but with fo many deferves a mach gentler touch for his various pa. iculars of wour ds and horror, feeming errors. Tacle if M. de la Motte a had translated as well as the rett, with an apology for having retained them orly out of more veneration; his judgment, in my opinion, would have appeared much greater than by the best of his alterations, then it them to be written very fine join with M. de la Motte in wondering at home odd ting in H mer, but it cute, becaule di M 15 11. Eme ones; I was about to fay 2.. Livire ones, while But Serprise me at £uding him any we of human re falible cur Very 1. er, C. heights of poetry, which therefore he Ariftophanes, only the Greek fcholia upbanifhed out of his commonwealth. Nor were thefe objections to Homer any more leffening of her merit in tranflating him as well as that way is capable of, viz. fally, plainly, and elegantly, than the most admirable verses can be any difparagement to as excellent profe. The beft excufe for all this violence is, its being in a caufe which gives a kind of reputation even to fuffering, notwithftanding ever fo ill a management of it. The work of defending even Homer in fuch a paffionate manner, is, its being more a proof of her weaknefs, than of his being liable to none. For what is it can excufe Homer any more than Hector, for flying at the firft fight of Achilles? whofe terrible afpect fure needed not fuch an inexcufable fright to fet it off; and methinks all that account of Minerva's reftoring his dart to Achilles, comes a little too late, for excufing Hector's fo terrible apprehension at the very firit. I LETTER LXXXIX. Mr. Pope to the Duke of Buckingham. Sept. 1, 1718. AM much honoured by your Grace's compliance with my requel, in giving me your opinion of the French difpute concerning Homer. And I fall keep my word, in fairly telling wherein I difagree from you. It is but in two or three very finall points, not fo much of the difpute, as of the parties concerned in it. I cannot think quite fo highly of the lady's learning, though I refpect it very much. It is great complaifance in that polite na tion, to allow her to be a critic of equal rank with her huband. To inftance no further, his remarks on Horace fhew more good fenfe, penetration, and a better tale of his author, and thofe upon Ariftotle's Art of Poetry more fill and science, than any of her's on any author whatever. In truth, they are much more flight, dwell more in generals, and are, befides, for the most part, lefs her own; of which her remarks upon Homer are an example, where Euftathius is tranfcribed ten times for orce that he is quoted. Nor is there at all more depth of learning in thofe upon Terence, Plantus, or (where they were most wanted) upon on the latter are fome of the best ext Your Grace will believe me, that I did not fearch to find defects in a lady; ar employment upon the Iliad forced me to fee them; yet I have had so much of the French complaifance as to conceal her thefts; for wherever I have found her notes to be wholly another's (which is the cafe in fome hundreds) I have barey quoted the true proprietor without obferv. ing upon it. If Madam D'Acier ever feen my obfervations, she will be fenfible of this conduct; but what effedit may have upon a lady, I will not aniwer for. In the next place, as to M. de la Motte, I think your Grace hardly does him right, in fuppofing he could have to idea of the beauties of Homer's epic poetry, but what he learned from Madam D'Acier's profe-tranflation. There had been a very elegant profe-translation be fore, that of Monfieur de la Valterie; & elegant, that the ftyle of it was evidenty the original and model of the famous Te lemaque. Your Grace very july amadverts against the too great difpofition of finding faults in the one, and of comfelling none in the other. But doubtles, as to violence, the lady has infinitely the better of the gentleman. Nothing ca be more polite, difpaffionate, or fertile, than M. de la Motte's manner of manag ing the difpute: and fo much as I set your Grace admires the beauty of tis verfe (in which you have the fuffrage of the archbishop of Cambray), I w venture to fay, his profe is full as good. I think therefore when you fay, noputants, even in divinity, could be mart outrageous and uncharitable than th two authors, you are a little too hard p on M. de la Motte. Not but that (with your Grace) I doubt as little of the zeal of commentators as of the zeal of divines, and am as ready to believe of the patien and pride of mankind in general, that (did but the fame interefts go along with them) they would carry the learned world to as violent extremes, animosities, and even perfecutions, about variety of optnions in criticifm, as ever they did about religion: and that, in defect of feripture to quarrel upon, we thould have the French, Italian, and Dutch commenta tors ready to burn one another about Homer, Virgil, Terence, and Horace. I do not wonder your Grace is fhocked at the flight of Hector upon the first appearance of Achilles, in the twenty-fecond Iliad. However (to fhew myself a true commentator, if not a true critic) I will endeavour to excufe, if not to defend it, in my notes on that book. And to fave myfelf what trouble I can, instead of doing it in this letter, I will draw up the fubitance of what I have to fay for it in a feparate paper, which I'll fhew your Grace when next we meet. I will only defire you to allow me, that Hector was in an abfolute certainty of death, and depreffed over and above with the confcience of being in an ill caufe. If your heart be fo great, as not to grant the first of these will fink the fpirit of a hero, you will at least be so good as to allow the fecond may. But, I can tell your Grace, no less a hero than my Lord Peterborow, when a perfon complimented him for never being afraid, made this anfwer: "Sir, "fhew me a danger that I think an im"minent and real one, and I promife 66 you I will be as much afraid as any of "you." I am your Grace's, &c. I LETTER XC. the world still bufy, and all mankind at work, for him. I have feen a letter from Dean Swift; he keeps up his noble spirit, and though like a man knocked down, you may behold him still with a fern countenance, and aiming a blow at his adverfaries. I will add no more, be ing in hatte, only that I will never forgive you if you do not use my aforefaid houfe in Dover-ftreet with the fame freedom as you did that in St. James's; for as our friendship was not begun upon the relation of a courtier, fo I hope it will not end with it. I will always be proud to be reckoned amongst the number of your friends and humble fervants. LETTER XCI. Sept. 10. I AM glad your travels delighted you; improve you I am fure they cou'd not; you are not fo much a youth as that, though you run about with a king of fixteen, and (what makes him ftill more a child) a king of Frenchmen. My own time has been more melancholy, fpert in an attendance upon death, which has feized one of our family: my mother is fomething better, though at her advanced age every day is a climacteric. There was joined to this an indifpofition of my own, which I ought to look upon as a flight one compared with my mother's, because my life is not of half the confequence to any body, that her's is to me. All thefe incidents have hindered my more fpeedy reply to your cbliging letter. The article you inquire of, is of as little concern to me as you defre it fold; namely, the railing papers about the Odyffey. If the book has merit, it will extinguish all fuch rafty feanda!; as the San puts an end to finks, merely by coming out. London, Sept. 7, 1714. AM extremely obliged to you for taking notice of a poor old distreft courtier, commonly the most defpifable thing in the world. This blow has fo roufed Scriblerus that he has recovered his fenfes, and thinks and talks like other men. From being frolickicme and gay, he is turned grave and morofe. His lucubrations lie neglected among old news-papers, cafes, petitions, and abundance of unanswerable letters. I with to God they had been among the papers of a noble lord fealed up. Thea might Scriblerus have paffed for the Pretender, and it would have been a moit excellent and la- I wish I had nothing to trouble me borious work for the Flying Pott, or fome more; an honed mind is not in the powfuch author, to have allegorized all his ad- er of any dihoneft one. To break its ventures into a plot, and found out myf- peace, there mut be fome guilt or anima teries fomewhat like the Key to the Lock. fcisafnefs, which is inconfilient with its Martin's office is now the fecond door on own principles. Not but malite the left hand in Dover-freet, where he juice have their day, like fome p will be glad to fee Dr. Parnelle, Mr. fort-lived vermin that dein folding Pope, and his old friends, to whom he their own firgs. Fallebood liftly as can fill afford a half pint of claret. It Homer,, and Bars and callmann 2 is with fome pleafure that he contemplates hit hart note ba themid el, e |