Learning at a loss, or the amours of Mr. Pedant and Miss Hartley. A novel. In two volumes.: [pt.1]

Table of contents

- [halftitle]

- [titlepage]

- DEDICATION, PREFACE, &c. TO ALL THE CIRCULATING LIBRARIANS In the Kingdom of GREAT-BRITAIN.

- WILLIAM EASY, Esq to CHARLES MELMOTH, Esq.

- WILLIAM EASY to CHARLES MELMOTH.

- Miss HARTLEY to Miss RUGG.

- CHARLES MELMOTH to WILLIAM EASY.

- Miss HARTLEY to Miss RUGG.

- Miss RUGG to Miss HARTLEY.

- Mrs. MELMOTH to Mrs. MANCEL.

- CHRISTOPHER HARTLEY, Esq to Sir ANTHONY ARTICHOKE.

- Miss HARTLEY to Miss RUGG.

- WILLIAM EASY, to CHARLES MELMOTH.

- [part]

- EASY in Continuation.

- CHARLES MELMOTH, to WILLIAM EASY.

- Miss HARTLEY to Miss RUGG.

- CHRISTOPHER HARTLEY, Esq to Sir ANTHONY ARTICHOKE.

- Sir THOROBRED RUGG to WILLIAM EASY, Esq.

- Miss RUGG to Miss HARTLEY.

Learning at a Loss, &c.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

LEARNING AT A LOSS, OR THE AMOURS OF MR. PEDANT and MISS HARTLEY.

VOL I.

LEARNING AT A LOSS, OR THE AMOURS OF MR. PEDANT and MISS HARTLEY.

A NOVEL.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOLUME THE FIRST.

Qui Studiis annos Septem dedit, Insenuitque

Libris et Curis, Statuâ taciturnius Exit

Plerumque, et Risu populum Quatit.

HORACE.

LONDON: Printed for the AUTHOR, And sold by H. GARDNER, opposite St. Clement's Church in the Strand; and J. BEW, Paternoster-Row.

M.D.CC.LXXVIII.

DEDICATION, PREFACE, &c. TO ALL THE CIRCULATING LIBRARIANS In the Kingdom of GREAT-BRITAIN.

HAVING now finished my first Volume, for I consider it as a great Piece of Folly, or Presumption, or perhaps both, to prepare an elaborate Preface for a Work absolutely Non-existent; inasmuch as it implies a Man's being perfectly satisfied with his own Capability of Writing something worth Publishing, (for if it should not be worth publishing, a Preface to it would certainly be needless,) and likewise as it is contrary to the received and established Custom of Mankind in most other Matters; which, if I thought fit, I could prove by a Variety of Instances. Having finished my first Volume I say then; and if Horace's Doctrine of "Dimidium facti qui Cepit habet;" that is, "He who has begun has half done," be true; I, who have actually got through the Dimidium or half of my Work, may, by a Parity of Reasoning, and according to the Rule of Proportions, be very fairly said to have completed it entirely: I begin to think fit that it should be embellished with some Sort of Prefatory, Introductory, Dedicatory Discourse; and not having much Time to spare at present, I design the following Pages shall answer any or all of these several Ends, according as I shall find it convenient. As for the Dedicatees, or People to be dedicated to, having maturely deliberated on that Matter, I deem it most proper to address myself with the utmost Gratitude to my very generous Friends and Benefactors, as I hope they will be, the Circulating Librarians of this Kingdom, paying them in advance (which I think ought to weigh something with them,) my unfeigned Thanks for their very vigorous and spirited Exertions in promoting the extensive Sale of this little Production; and at the same Time humbly intreating them, if they should find no farther mention of their very respectable Selves in the Course of this Literary Midwife of mine, which, like other Midwives, has more necessary Matters than Compliments to attend to, that they will not give way to the Instigations of a wrathful Effervescence, but will content themselves, like good Tradesmen, with the promissory Note of an Author, which I here give them my Honour shall be found payable at Sight in the Conclusion, with all due Ceremonies of dedicatory Reverence, the foregoing Sentences no ways impeding or hindering the same.

And now it may perhaps be expected, that I should give some concise Account of the general Plan and Fable of my Book, together with the Reasons that first induced me to set about it, not forgetting a Variety of pretty Apologies for the Inaccuracy of the Stile, and Infinity of other Defects which it may be supposed to abound with, which, however, it is hoped will be all passed over, as the Author composed it entirely in the Course of three Weeks, "Stans Pede in Uno," or when he was on a Journey, or when he was hardly recovered from a severe Fit of Illness, and the like. And Pleas of this Sort I well know are considered by many Authors as a sufficient Excuse for the utmost Ebullitions of Folly, as if writing Nonsense with Facility was any great Merit: nay, so perfectly are their Minds satisfied with this Salvo, that should the discriminating Stomach of the Public find any accidental Nausea in swallowing the Bolus, after it has been daubed with this apologetical Gilding, they do not scruple to anathematize them altogether, as the most illiterate, illiberal, undiscerning Blockheads that ever existed. Now, in my Opinion, all this aggravates the Fault instead of palliating it; nor can I possibly conceive more than one Case or Situation where these Arguments can be valid or admissible, and that is, the Compulsio ex Paupertate. Anglicè, when a Man is a good deal behind Hand in the World, and is afraid of being troubled by his Landlord. And this not happening to be my Case at present, for I paid up to the End of my Quarter but Thursday was Se'nnight last past, I entirely lose the Benefit of the Exception, and am absolutely under an Obligation to write both Sense and Grammar according to my own Dogma. "Well, but as to the Plot and Characters of the Novel; some Sketch of these will be very proper and necessary, and will doubtless be generally expected." I shall certainly be thought a very rude Fellow, when I declare, that if this is the Case, I am heartily sorry for it, inasmuch as all this general Expectation will doubtless be disappointed. Any Thing that bears the Appearance of a Chapter of Contents I utterly explode, and for very substantial Reasons too: which Reasons are not substantial merely because I chuse to think them so, but are really, and in themselves, Seipsis, Reasons good and substantial; as I will presently prove, all the Rules of Aristotle and the Ancients, with their Prologusses and Chorusses, and Protasisses, &c. &c. notwithstanding.

In their Dramatic Exhibitions and Theatres-Royal indeed, (presupposing that their Regulations concerning Box-keepers, and no Money to be returned after the Curtain is drawn up, were the same as ours,) all these Pieces of Information might do well enough perhaps; for the Five Shillings being once paid, it signified little to the Author or Manager, though it might contribute somewhat to increase the Ennui of the Auditor; whether one was let into the Plot of something exceedingly stupid, plump—all at once, or was left to fish it out by Degrees, as the Play proceeded, Gradatim et Pedetentim. But in the Case of a modern Novel, it is widely different. For, supposing that is explained in the Preface; Miss sends for it after Breakfast, skims the six or eight first Pages without cutting open the Leaves, and if, from Want of Taste or Discernment, (for we cannot suppose the Author in fault,) she happens to dislike either all the Characters, or any one of them; the general Plan of the Whole; the Beginning, the Middle, or the Catastrophe; it is returned immediately to her Bookseller with the verbal Satisfaction arising from her informing him, that ‘She was very sorry for the Trouble she had given him, but that her Servant had made a Mistake, that it was the wrong Book, 'twas not the Book she wanted,’ or the like futile Apology; and there is so much clear Loss out of the Author's and Bookseller's Pocket. Now, if on the other Hand, she is obliged to read the Book through to come at the Contents of it, she must cut open the Leaves; if she cuts open the Leaves, she is obliged to pay for the Book; and if she is obliged to pay for the Book, there is so much clear gain into the Author's and Bookseller's Pocket. Besides, she will then find Entertainment in it; for the Goad of Curiosity, (which in the other Case is entirely taken away,) now acting upon her, every Thing is seen through a different Medium: Dense Sayings become rare; dull, brilliant; and she now gets thro' with the utmost Satisfaction, what would otherwise have seemed as tiresome and fatiguing, had she been condemned to read it, as lulling her Father to sleep with the Psalms and Lessons on a Sunday Evening.

All I shall say therefore, is, that I take Characters as I find them; so that if there are any Objections made on that Score, as that they are unnatural, disagreeable, or the like; the Charge will all lie at their own Doors, and I, being but an humble Copier, wash my Hands of it. Thus much, however, I freely declare, to avoid the Grumblings and Ill-will of such as estimate the Value of a Novel by the Number of Peers and Countesses it contains; that from the Beginning to the End of my Book, they will find neither a Duke of B—, nor a Marquis of C—, nor D—, nor any one Member of the Upper-house whatsoever; no, not even in Disguise. A mere simple Baronet or two, and those but odd ones, are my most dignified Male Characters; and as to my Females, they are all—Common. Neither do I think I have any Thing exactly adapted to the Palates of those blood-thirsty Gentlewomen who delight in Duels between Lovers, and shooting Highwaymen, and the like Sorts of Entertainment: for though we have one Military Man amongst us, he is not particularly attached to such barbarous Pastimes, owing perhaps to the Scenes of Slaughter he has been present at in America, which he has quitted but just Time enough to give me a little Assistance. I feel indeed, (and surely I may be permitted to flatter myself that in this Affair at least I can see as far into Futurity as any other blind Tiresias,) a certain unaccountable Presentiment that some of my Characters, being naturally turbulent, will fall out and quarrel amongst themselves before I have done with them, in spite of all my Endeavours to the contrary. Lest this should be the Case however, I here beg Leave to premise, as before in the Article of Disagreeableness, that it is all their own doing; and if the Consequences by any Accident should be sanguinary, it will be entirely for their own Amusement and Satisfaction. For my Part, I am too much of a Christian not to join in the Litany with the utmost Fervour and Sincerity, for Deliverance ‘from all Battle and Murder, and from sudden Death.’

As to my Sentimental Readers, if any such there should be; for them indeed I have procured a very valuable, curious, and interesting Manuscript. It was given me by an intimate Friend of mine, who met with it by Accident; and though it is written by no higher Character than a Lady's Maid, I think I may venture to pronounce it very far from contemptible. I declare, moreover, as an additional Gratification, that if any Person or Persons of this Stamp should perceive their Patience fail them in coming at it in the regular Course of Reading; I will save such the Trouble of spitting on their Thumbs to turn the Leaves over, by informing them that it is to be found somewhere towards the latter End of this first Volume, I forget exactly the Number of the Page. And now, having given People in general, as much Satisfaction as I think proper, I mean to fill the Remainder of my Preface with a Dissertation on a Greek Verb and a Compound Pronoun.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Nosce Teipsum, or Know Thyself, as it has been differently rendered in the different Languages, was the Saying of an old Grecian Philosopher, whose Name I know nothing about. Now, though that Maxim might be a very good one, and highly serviceable in those Days, when it was the Fashion for Men to run away from their Relations, lose themselves in some great Wood, (of Science I mean,) and letting their Beards grow, commence Brutes or Philosophers, or sometimes both, just as it happened; yet I cannot help entertaining a very different Opinion of its Excellency when applied to our present System of Things. I presume it is granted, that nothing is more fickle than Fashion, or more subject to an infinite Variety of Changes. That at one Time we see every Body with Waists as high as their Arm-pits, and Skirts hanging as long and as aukwardly from the Shoulder, "as an old Lady's loose Gown." By and by, the Waist is dropt to the Kneeband, and the Skirts and Pockets look like those of a Town Footman's Powdering Jacket, or the Remains of a tall Rogue's Thieving Coat, that had left eight or ten Inches of its length in a Nursery-Man's Steel-Trap. One Minute, nobody can appear with a Button bigger than a drop Ear-ring, or the End of a young Toadstool; the next, nothing but Plates and Pot-lids go down; and if some odd Fellow by Accident appears in a Suit of Cloaths fifty Years behind hand, he is considered as absolutely Antediluvian and Hottentottish. And is there not then a Fashion in quaint Sayings and pithy Apopthegms as well as in Dress? Would not that be looked upon as gross Bawdry, and an Affront to the Company where it was spoken, in these chaste Days of original Purity, which would have been considered as a very good Joke in Charles the Second's Time, even for a Maid of Honour to have laughed at? And this being the Case, can any thing be more absurd and ridiculous than to see Men now-a-days (following that old Piece of Advice of two or three Thousand Years standing,) lock themselves up in their Libraries, (for in the Woods they would probably be exposed to the Exercise of being hunted at present, or might be passed to their Parishes, or sent to the House of Correction as Vagrants, or sentenced to Ballast-heaving as Thieves, or to Bedlam as Mad-men, or to Brooks's in the Hay-Market as Porcupine-Men; or fifty other Accidents might happen, which would burst the Barriers of my Parenthesis, if I attempted to insert them,) and taking the Nosce Teipsum in an exclusive Sense, determine to know nobody but themselves; so that if their Ceiling happens to fall in, or they are burnt out of their Laboratory, or any extraordinary Event of that Sort drives them into the World; they stare about them, and start, and run to hide themselves in the first Hole they can meet with, like a Spider that's poked out of his Cobweb. Besides, if they are so obstinately bigotted to this old Saying, let them follow it according to the new Translation, which is still highly fashionable, and is now generally believed to be the right one. All the Grammars that I ever read, conjugate the first Person singular of Verbs Active in the following Manner. Let us suppose, for Instance, the Verb, KNOW, and let us suppose the old Grecian delivering his Precept to me with a grave Face and dirty Beard, in English, (for I will not make any farther Display of my Greek and Latin Knowledge, for fear of Puzzling my Readers,) "Know Thyself." I begin to conjugate, (having first turned my Eyes inwards a little, to see whether his Advice was necessary,) Indicative Mood, first Person singular, I know, am knowing, or — and the Thing is done. For add the Compound Pronoun, Myself, addendo; I am knowing myself; then transpose, transponendo, I myself am knowing; id est, I am keen, I am deep, I am a damned clever Fellow, &c. &c. and here you have all the Advantage of the old Grecian's Advice, and keep Company with People of Fashion into the Bargain.

In those ancient Times, indeed, when Men never felt themselves Easy without two or three hundred Weight of Iron or Brass upon their Shoulders; when their Fingers were always itching to cut one another's Throats for Diversion; when their Kings and Generals were for ever vapouring and flourishing their Swords about, like a Parcel of Children, insomuch that if we may believe Homer, they would sometimes kill their own Butchers-meat to keep their Hands in: When all this was the Case I say, a quiet peaceable Man, who would at any Time rather fall to sleep than to fighting, might be much in the Right, taking the Saying in its old Acceptation, to run away and hide himself. But in these Days of Tranquillity and Civilization, when nothing of this Kind is to be feared; when People generally take off their Swords before they sit down to Dinner; when the Excellency of our Police is such, that a Man may walk for a Fortnight together about the Streets and Roads of the Metropolis, as safely as in his own Bedchamber; when our very Duels are all amicably adjusted, and after a Flash in the Pan, (praise be to the Monk who first invented Gunpowder!) terminate to the Satisfaction of all Parties: Surely, when Things are in this Situation — The best Way to avoid Ill-will and Censure is, to let every Reader form his own Judgment upon it.

O Learning! thou fair maturing Sun of Genius! without whose fostering Influence it shoots and flourishes indeed, but brings no Fruit to Perfection: How is thy Cause injured by the churlish Bigotry of thy Professors! How much unmerited Contempt hath that Gloom of Literary Superstition brought on thee and on thy Doctrines! How many promising Hopes and Expectations hath it suppressed and sunk for ever! Like Religion thou art lovely and amiable! Like Religion thou hast been perverted and Abused! Thy Ways are Ways of Pleasantness, and all thy Paths are Peace! Thou comest as a Father to his Child, not as a Tyrant to his Slave. But thy Teachers have cloathed thee with Pride, they have armed thee with all the Terrors of Persecution! By thine Enemies thou never could'st be injured: For the Pedantry of thine own Children thou art too often undeservedly despised.

I am, Gentlemen, With the utmost Sincerity of Submission, Your most accidentally Biographical Caricature—istical Dat—Dicat—Dedicat—orial Humble Servant, Slave, and Blackamoor, To the Tune of as much Money As you think proper to give me for my Compliments, The AUTHOR.

WILLIAM EASY, Esq to CHARLES MELMOTH, Esq.

Temple February, Just returned from Bath.

ONCE more, my Dear Friend, I am seated in my Chambers •t the Temple; surrounded as usual, with a ridiculous Confusion of Litter and Literature; my Chairs and Tables covered with Pamphlets and Powder, and Dust and Law-books, and in short every Thing exactly as I left it six Weeks ago. Well, thought I, as I cast my Eye round my Apartments, a Temple Laundress is nothing but a new Edition of an University Bedmaker! However, there is some Satisfaction and Advantage in being able to leave one's Papers in what Corner of the Room one pleases, without running the Risque of their being turned over and methodized with a Broom or a Duster.

In the mean Time my Servant had shut up the Windows, lighted the Fire and two half Candles that remained in the Sconces, and retired; and I, throwing myself upon my Sopha, tried I believe for near an hour to persuade myself that I had never been from Home. But finding Reality too strong for Imagination, I began seriously to ruminate upon what had passed during the Interval. My last Letter I think was written just before I set out on my Expedition to that Centre of Gaiety, Bath; and I have not heard from you these two Months. Since then, what Changes and Vicissitudes have I experienced! In short, that Day which like Death, must sooner or later come upon all Men, has overtaken me. I am desperately in Love! Not so bad indeed as to prevent or suspend the common Animal Operations of Eating Drinking and Sleeping, nor yet so bad as to make me prefer a hard flinty Pavement to a good Featherbed. No—"My Wound," (for you know People in Love are always supposed to be wounded) ‘is not so deep as a Well, nor so wide as a Church Door, but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a Grave Man.’ And now for the Manner in which I received it. I had hardly been at Bath three Days, when, as I was dropping into the Pump-room according to my Morning custom, I saw a tall elegant Girl about eighteen or twenty, supporting a miserable old Lump of Chalkstones, who was drinking the Waters. I will not attempt a Description of her, as every Man is apt to deal in Hyperbole on these Occasions, and talk of Orange-flower Breath, and Pearls and Rubies, (as if he was thinking of the Trinkets that must be bought if he married her,) till he turns his Mistress into a Greenhouse or a Jeweller's Shop with his Compliments. However, if you are very desirous of seeing her Picture drawn, you may find one ready cut and dried and fit for use in most Novels. In short, she was

Fairer far than Painters form

Or youthful Poets fancy when they love.

that is, she pleased me, and entirely came up to my Idea of Female Perfection. As soon as the old Fellow was drenched sufficiently, and had taken himself out of the Pump-room, I enquired his Home, &c. of the Naiad that attends there; and in the Course of five Minute's Conversation, was informed that he was a Mr. Hartley, that he had been at Bath about a Fortnight, that the young Lady was his Daughter and only Child, that she was said to have a very large Fortune, and finally, was to be at the Ball next Evening. A lucky Gleam of Recollection at this Instant reminded me that I had often heard my Father talk of him, and that, when a Child, I had seen him at our House. Upon the Strength of this paternal Acquaintance, I determined to introduce myself, and accordingly made my Appearance at his Door the next Morning about Breakfast Time. I found the old Gentleman in his Night-cap and Slippers, pothering over the Newspaper, and his Charmante fille on the opposite Side of the Table, pouring out the Tea. Having seated myself by him, both that I might have a more advantageous View of my Goddess, and that I might appear to pay him the greater Respect, I began to explain who I was; and having mentioned some Circumstances which I luckily remembered to have heard from my Father concerning their Acquaintance together, the old Gentleman whipt off his Spectacles in an Instant, and laying down his Paper, first shook me heartily by the Hand, and immediately afterwards resuming the former Part of his Apparatus, stared me full in the Face for near a Minute to discover whether there was any Family Likeness. He was fortunate enough to perceive a very strong one, which was more than ever I have been able to do in my Life, However, it served to increase his Civility to me, and we soon became very intimate. His Wife it seems has been dead several Years, and he calls his own Age between Sixty and Seventy, tho' the frequent Gouty Attacks he has undergone, make him look older. He talked over a vast Heap of Family Matters, and seemed to consider me as an Acquaintance of twenty Years standing. Thanks to my Father for it! In the mean Time his Daughter was not idle. I burnt my Mouth horribly with a scalding Dish of Tea she presented me, from paying greater Attention to the Giver than the Gift. She frequently joined in our Discourse, and was full of Life and Vivacity. You may suppose I exerted myself, and as a Reward for my Labour, was happy enough before I left the House, to obtain her own and her Father's Permission to dance with her that Evening. Adieu, my Servant has just brought in Supper, which obliges me to defer the Sequel of my Adventures till another Post.

Yours, sincerely, W. Easy.

WILLIAM EASY to CHARLES MELMOTH.

Temple, February,
Dear Charles,

MY last I think concluded with a Promise of some farther Account of my amatorial Proceedings. I now sit down to fulfil that Promise, and at the same Time to ask your Advice in regard to my future Measures. Really, I am very much in love with this Girl. The more I think of her, the more I admire her good Sense and Vivacity; and though in Case of a Refusal, I should neither shoot nor drown, yet if I ever am to marry, most fervently do I pray that she may be the Person. Books now are become quite a Bore to me.— And not merely Legal ones, which you know I never received much Entertainment from, but History, Geography, and even my Favourites the Poets, seem insipid and fatiguing, unless they treat of Love. To return to my History. According to Appointment, I was made happy with Miss Hartley's Hand at the Ball, and before she quitted Bath, became perfectly intimate with her Father, and I flatter myself, not utterly disagreeable to herself. He is really a very honest good sort of Being, but like every body else has his Foible, which however is an innocent one, and in some Degree hereditary. His Father was a Man, who to good natural Parts, had added a considerable Fund of acquired Knowledge: He, seeing with the Eyes of a Parent, unluckily supposes this Son possessed of the same Degree of the one, and consequently determines he shall not be deficient in the other. With this View he is sent to the University, and both his Terms and Vacations employed in all the Perplexities of Science either with his Tutor, or at Home. By and by, the old Man dies; and the Son, having always been taught to suppose himself clever, takes his Father's Word for the Truth of it, and invitâ Minervâ, continues to this Day wandering in the self same Labyrinths, and paying the most obsequious Respect to every Man he hears spoken of for Literary Eminence. You may be assured I humoured this ridiculous Passion, and routed out all my Stock of University Learning upon the Occasion. Upon my Honour, when I had rubbed it up a little, I was surprized to find how it shone, like a Piece of old Family Plate; tho' the more refined and subtle Parts of it were in some Degree evaporated. Miss Hartley, if I may credit the Language of the Eyes, which I consider as ocular Demonstration, has declared she does not absolutely hate me, and has half promised to take the first Opportunity of Writing. I wish I knew how to believe her! They are now at a Relation's near Reading, on a Visit, but will soon be in Town, when I shall not omit the Renewal of my Acquaintance.

Adieu, W. Easy.

Miss HARTLEY to Miss RUGG.

Staples, near Reading. March,
My Dear Girl,

HOW many thousand fine Speeches and Apologies have I to make for your Goodness in writing so often whilst I was at Bath, and my own Neglect in never once answering you. Really my Dear, if you are unmerciful in your Demands upon me, I must take out a Statute of Bankruptcy at once, and oblige you to be satisfied with so much in the Pound. Besides, I have very good Reasons for my long Silence. An incessant Round of Dressing and Undressing, Plays, Balls, and Diversions of one Sort or other, hardly left me a Moment to myself; and when this was the Case, I dare say you would not have wished me to stupify myself with Scribbling.

Heigh ho! Do you know any Gentleman by the Name of Easy? I danced with him one Night at the Rooms. He introduced himself to my Father under pretence of an old Family Connection, and we hardly ever stirred without him afterwards. An old Family Connection! Do you think my Vanity would suffer me to believe that, my Dear? Is it likely that a handsome young Fellow of six or seven and Twenty, should hunt out a Man old enough to be his Grandfather, for the Sake of a Family Connection? No, no; if there is any Truth in that Part of the Story, I fancy he thinks the Traces of it are so nearly worn out, that it is Time to strengthen them with a new one. Let me hear your pretty serious Sentiments upon this, and quickly too, if you mean to write at all; for in a Fortnight I hope to be in London, and then—who knows what may happen to,

Yours, most affectionately, Catharine Hartley.

I had almost forgot to tell you that we are now at Staples, with that wretched Antique Sir Anthony Artichoke, a second Cousin of my Uncle's Wife's Brother-in-law, whom my Father chuses to call a Relation, because he puzzles him in the dead Languages whenever they meet.

CHARLES MELMOTH to WILLIAM EASY.

Melmoth Place, Norfolk, March,

AND so my very good Friend and Companion, William Easy, Esquire, is at last professedly in Love; and willing to exchange the Indolence of a Law Student for the laborious Operations of regulating a Family, and chewing Pap for his Children. Really I think he is very much in the Right. For my own Part, though I have now been married above a Twelve-month, which according to the present Way of Thinking, is a little Eternity, and have been in the Country almost ever since; I do not yet find my Wife's Company at all Ennuyeuse or fatiguing, nor have I once wished for a Repetition of the Gallantries I was engaged in during my Travels. I think I may now venture to intrust you with thus much of my Mind, without fear of being laughed at as an uxorious Rustic, which I know would have been the Case half a Year ago. The Amusements of the Field, the Company of my Friends, some of whom have been in the House ever since you left us; and now and then that miserable Dernier ressort to all People of Ton, one's own Wife; have really been to me a very sufficient Source of Happiness and Satisfaction. Besides, I have been engaged with a continued Series of Alterations both in House and Grounds, under the Auspices of those two great Luminaries, Wyatt and Brown. Upon my Honour that same Wyatt is a Fellow of very superior Talents. There is something so majestically Simple in his Ideas, so contrary to the minute Frippery of the Generality, that I am really in Raptures with him. The Metamorphoses he has made in my House are the Effect of Magic. He has digested and methodized that rude Chaos of Anti-chambers, and Closets, and "Passages that lead to nothing," which our ridiculous Ancestors were so fond of, and for which you may remember my Habitation was particularly eminent. There is now a very excellent Suite of Apartments in Embrio; and the haunted Parlour with marble-coloured Wainscot will make an incomparable Drawing-Room. And all this since you was down with me last Summer. By the Bye, I desire that from this Time forth for evermore, you direct your Letters to Charles Melmoth, Esq Melmoth-Place; as I, being determined the Name of my Seat shall not survive the Barbarism that authorized it, have, without Act of Parliament, and relying upon my own Authority as Justice of the Peace, issued Orders to all Constables, Headboroughs, &c. in the County of Norfolk, to wit, that they do by all legal Methods suppress and destroy the original Appellation of Holly-hock Hall, and in its stead substitute Melmoth-Place aforesaid.

But perhaps you begin to think this very little to the Purpose of your Amour; and as every body is most fond of talking and writing about their own Affairs, I must confess I had almost forgot myself. However, I wish you may succeed with all my Heart, and in regard to Advice or Consultation, will defer it for about a Fortnight, when I design visiting London for a few Weeks, and entering for the Time being into all the Vanity of Metropolitan Diversions. So Farewell.

Yours ever, Charles Melmoth.

Miss HARTLEY to Miss RUGG.

Hill-street, Berkeley-square, April.

HOW very unlucky and perverse our Motions are! One would think the cross-grained Fellow your Uncle contrived it on purpose. Thursday Evening I once more set Foot in London, having escaped from a miserable State of Bond-Slavery at Staples, where we had dragged on near six Weeks of passive Existence without seeing a Soul but that old Apple-woman Sir Anthony, who is as disagreeable as the Place he lives in; and two or three Country Neighbours, who are still worse. I thought my Father would never have quitted the dull Place! We really seem, my Dear, for these last two Years to have been running away from each other. Always like Buckets, one up and the other down. And now, poor Soul, you are stationed at Woodstock, are you? (for I called on you Friday Morning, and finding you flown, enquired all Particulars of the Servant,) and enjoy the agreeable Society of your maiden Aunts and your Rookery, do you? or if you wish for Solitude, you are at full Liberty to sit under a Tree in the Garden by the Hour together, thinking of Rosamond and her Bower, and the Nunnery at Godstow. What a Taste your Uncle has! I was at Romeo and Juliet last Night, and who does your great Penetration imagine I saw there? No less a Person than Mr. Easy I can assure you. He seemed somewhat surprized, for he did not know I was in London. Entre nous, I had promised to write to him from Staples, but was cruel enough, or as you would say, sufficiently prudent to disappoint him; so that our Meeting was entirely unexpected on his Part. He was in an Undress, and looked killingly Negligent, I can assure you. There was another Gentleman with him, whom he left and came up to us immediately. My Father was quite rejoiced to see him, and for myself, filial Duty you know obliged me to experience a similar Sensation. He talked a good Deal, and looked much more. Undoubtedly he is a very agreeable Man, and there is such an ingenuous Naiveté in his Behaviour, that I am sure he must be an honest one. He humoured my Father in his literary Quixotism; and drew Comparisons between Shakespeare and the Ancients, 'till he got himself invited to dine to-morrow with us. (Nota Bene. His Eyes upbraided me horridly for not writing.) What a happy Thing it is, that one Pair of young Eyes are quicker than two of old ones. As for my Father, he never sees at all without his Spectacles, and they are seldom made use of for the Contemplation of living Objects. So farewell, my Dear, write soon to one who will always consider herself,

Your most affectionate Friend, Catharine Hartley.

P. S. Do you know any thing of your Brother Sir Thorobred, or when he returns to England? I hope we shall find him a little more humanized, and beginning to prefer the Society of his Fellow Creatures to that of his Horses.

Miss RUGG to Miss HARTLEY.

Woodstock, April.

AS you know where I am my Dear Hartley, you will not be unreasonable enough to expect News from me. Indeed if I thought you did, I would not attempt writing. As you very truly suppose, I see little Company beside Rooks and maiden Aunts, and for Conversation, I have none but what my Books afford me, from which, however, though you may laugh, I receive great Entertainment, and I hope some Instruction. But come, I'll not fatigue you with Matters of this Sort; and yet I have nothing else to say for myself, unless you chuse a Panegyric upon the Charming Mr. Easy. By the Bye, he is an intimate Acquaintance of my Brother's. I have seen him often, and could almost find in my Heart to pull Caps for him, if I was ever disposed to be so furious.

The Post is just come in, with a Letter for me. Perhaps it may assist my Dearth of News, so excuse my reading it. And now it is read, take it as a Substitute for any farther Nonsense of my own. And it is from a young Man too, though that will now I suppose be no particular Recommendation. However, as you ask after him in your Postcript, I will send it. It is from my Brother, who is at the Hague, and talks of returning to England very speedily. He writes in his usual metaphorical Stile, and seems as fond of Rough-riding as ever. But I shall leave you to judge for yourself, and conclude,

My Dear Kitty,
Yours, most sincerely, Maria Rugg.

The Inclosed Letter from Sir THOBRED RUGG to his Sister.

Hague, April.

YOU and I, Sister, are certainly as different Animals as ever boasted the Privilege of Christianity, and yet I believe we love one another. Whether I long to see you or old England again, I do not know, but I certainly am thoroughly tired of these damn'd Dutchmen. Besides I have not stirred out of Stable except now and then to Exercise, for this Month past, with the Gout; and my near Leg is devilishly puff'd still about the Fetlock. Is not this a sad Misfortune for a young Fellow as I am, just coming four and twenty? And as to the Farriers, or Apothecaries as they call them, I never knew such a Pack of Blockheads in my Life. Their Remedies may do very well for a Dutch Constitution, but I am sure they are enough to ruin an English one. The People too seem dreadfully stupid in general, and there is scarce a rational Riding-School or Turf Coffee-House in the Place. Apropos, I bought a restiff Dutch Coach-Horse about six Weeks ago for four Pound ten, to amuse my Mornings with; and worked him up and down the Streets, to the great Annoyance of the Burgomasters. I very near broke my Neck last Night. Coming Home late, with two young Fellows that I scraped Acquaintance with about three Days before; I fell over a Sow that lay snoring in the Middle of the Street. She turned round immediately to bite me, but before she had Time to get up, we tied her Neck and Heels with an Handkerchief, dragged her to a purblind Apothecary's Door, and swore there was a Woman in Labour. Down he came in his Nightcap, and we took to our Heels, leaving him to deliver her as well as he could. Adieu, I hope to see England next Month, or perhaps sooner.

Yours, ever, Thorobred Rugg.

Mrs. MELMOTH to Mrs. MANCEL.

Pall-Mall, May.
My Dear Mother,

YOU desire me in your last to to give you some Account of what is going forward in this gay World, what public Diversions are chiefly frequented, and, in one Word, what is the Ton. The Newspapers you complain, give such strange Accounts of Depravity of Morals, Extravagance of Dress, and epidemical Folly on all Sides, that you cannot credit it; and indeed I was almost as faithless as yourself, till my own Eye-sight converted, or at least convinced me. For, without ocular Demonstration, "Who," (as Gonzalez says in the Tempest,)

Would believe that there were Mountaineers

Dewlapt like Bulls, whose Throats had hanging at them

Wallets of Flesh? Or that there were such Women

Whose Heads stood in their Breasts? But now

I'll believe both: — and what does else want credit, come to me

And I'll be sworn 'tis true. Travellers ne'er lied

Tho' Fools at Home condemn them.—

Really, the whole seems like a Dream to me, and I shall not be thoroughly awake again, till I get back into the Country. To begin with our own Sex, as we certainly claim the Preference in every Thing, "The human Face divine," which was wont to possess some Share of Pre-eminence, and with its natural Appendage of Hair, and a few artificial Ornaments, formed the Capital of the Pillar: — "The human Face divine" appears now, according to the exact fashionable Proportion, in the Middle of the Figure; and a Lady of the Ton, groaning under her enormous Superstructure of Hair, Wool, Pins, Powder and Pomatum; decorated and tricked out with her Flower Garden, her Kitchen Garden, and her Orchard; her Cabbages, her Radishes, and her Apples: looks as if she had ran away with some Milkmaid's May Garland, or was sinking under the complicated Ruin of a Green-Grocer's Stall. Mr. Melmoth, for to call him Husband, would be utterly Gothic, keeps a Chair for me to visit in, but I fear I must soon put him to the Expence of another, as I find it morally impossible to move about in the same Vehicle with my Head-dress, which I design to be preceded by in future, as the Knights were by their Helmet, in Days of Chivalry. Nor are the Men one whit behind us in Point of Extravagance and Absurdity. I never see one of them on Horseback when the Sun shines, but I think of the Knight of the Looking Glasses in Don Quixote, with Buttons as large and as beautiful as the Brass-plates on a Street-door. To compensate however for this Extravagance, their Waistcoats are generally laced, like a Woman's Stays, and without any Buttons at all. Then nobody can stir without two Watches, (so that a Man need never be at a Loss to know how much Time he wastes,) and these decorated with enormous Gold Chains, and as many Seals and Trinkets as would furnish a Jew Pedlar's Travelling-Box. As for the Article of Buckles, their Size may perhaps render them extremely serviceable as Bridges in crossing over a Kennel, but for their Beauty I must beg to be excused. A few Nights since I went to Stevens's Lecture upon Heads, and was not a little entertained. He ridicules all the fashionable Absurdities most excellently. A Head he defines to be a Kind of Wen, or Fungus, or in the Language of Botanists, a Sort of Bulbous Excrescence, growing out between the Shoulders; whose chief Use is, to hang a Hat upon, have one's Hair drest upon, and the like. And so much for the Vanities of this Wicked World. Next Week I believe we shall return to the Country, as Mr. Melmoth begins to think his Presence necessary amongst his Workmen, and I poor vulgar Creature, find myself almost tired with this perpetual Round of Confusion. So very luckily both Husband and Wife are agreed in this Matter. As I shall see you soon, I will not prolong my Scrawl, but conclude with an Ode I received lately from a Lady of my Acquaintance, exceedingly applicable to the present Subject. It was sent her from America by her Nephew, who protests it is founded on Facts, however you may believe the Verity of it or not, as you feel most disposed.—

ODE.

Twas near a lofty Mansion's Side,

Where big with Continental Pride,

Met Boston's Patriot Race;

Sublimest of the feather'd Kind,

Belinda, British Dame, reclined,

Gaz'd Pensive in her Glass.

The varying Glories of her Vest,

Her tow'r-crown'd Head, denote her Drest

By Coteriean Laws;

Her Plumes that might with Ostrich vie,

Or buskin'd Chief in Tragedy,

She sees, and nods Applause.

Still had she gaz'd: when with rude Throng

An uncouth Vase borne swift along,

Broke short each pleasing Dream:

The feather'd Covering's Silver Hue,

Thro' richest Plumage to the View

Betray'd a Sable Gleam.

The hapless Nymph with Wonder view'd;

With smother'd Laugh th' inhuman Croud

In Expectation gathers:

She stretch'd her Hand to reach the Prize;

What Female loves not Novelties!

What British Female, Feathers!

Presumptuous Maid! with Looks intent,

Again she stretch'd, again she bent

Some clust'ring Plume to win;

The slippery Verge her Grasp beguil'd,

(Whilst Blackguard Boys stood by and smil'd,)

She tumbled headlong in.

Full swift emerging from the Tub,

Her Eyes obscur'd she strove to rub,

And shriek'd for Drops and Pity;

No feather-headed Friend appear'd,

Nor Devonshire nor Derby heard

Her melancholy Ditty.

From hence, ye Beauties, undeceiv'd;

Know one false Step is ne'er retriev'd,

Belinda's Fate beware!

From Levity Misfortune grows;

Thorns often lurk beneath the Rose,

Beneath the Feathers, Tar.

Adieu, my Dear Mother, believe me,

Yours, with the utmost Affection, Eliza Melmoth.

CHRISTOPHER HARTLEY, Esq to Sir ANTHONY ARTICHOKE.

Hill-street, Berkeley-square, May 24th, past 12 at Night.
My dear old Friend Sir Anthony,

HAVING now been in London for some Weeks, for you know I have been here ever since I left Staples, I begin to think of writing to you, to inquire after your Health, and to mention such Circumstances as may have befallen me since our last Meeting. It has always been my earnest Wish and Desire, as you certainly must well remember, I having frequently opened myself on this Subject to you, to procure for my Daughter a Man of deep Literature, of profound and scientific Erudition, as an Husband. Learning, says the Proverb, is better than House and Land,

For when House and Land are gone and spent,

Then Learning is most excellent.

and indeed I do not know how I should have weathered my Way through so many Years as I have done, without it. My Daughter is fond of gadding about and racketting at Public Places at present 'tis true, but I don't doubt, if I can meet with such an Husband for her, she will be quite another Thing, and then she may learn Logic and Mathematics and Greek; and that will be an everlasting Fund of Amusement, even though they should live all the Year in the Country. I do not much care about the Matter of Fortune in my Choice. That will be no Object with me. She is my only Child, and I have enough for both of them. But to come to the Point. Do you know, my good old Friend, I really think I have found the Man I could wish for. This very Evening I was drinking Tea at Mrs. Cypher's, when, amongst other Questions, enquiring after her Son who is of the University; she told that he was gone upon a Visit to her Brother for a few Days, that he was but just come up from Oxford, and had with much Difficulty brought his Tutor Mr. Pedant with him, a Gentleman of about thirty Years of Age, and who was reputed one of the cleverest, most learned, most agreeable Men in the University: but added she with a Sneer, he has kept it all to himself as yet; for though he has been here three Days, he has not advanced farther than Negatives and Affirmatives in his Discourse: However, you will see him presently. These Words were scarce out of her Mouth, before the Door opened softly, and in came Mr. Pedant. I rose from my Chair as he approached, in which he immediately seated himself, without uttering a Word. I must own I thought this a little odd; but learned Men will have their Oddities: So I drew another, and began entering into a Discourse with him. Whilst I confined myself to the Politics and Public Amusements of our Country, I cannot say that I found him very Communicative. This is certainly a Mark of Wisdom and Erudition! But when at last I touched upon the Manners of the Ancients, and the Difference between the Policy of those Times and our own, I perceived his Chair sliding gradually nearer and nearer to me, bringing himself along with it, with his Eyes fixed earnestly on the Fender. Presently he turned his Face towards me, and in a half Whisper, that the Rest of the Company might not hear our Discourse, began with the Wrath of Achilles in a dozen Lines from Homer, and before we parted, which was not till near ten o'Clock, had given me a very compleat Epitome of the Grecian History, interspersed with excellent Remarks and Greek Quotations from Herodotus, Thucydides, &c. which, though I did not understand all of them, and cannot say I absolutely remember any, yet nevertheless gave me an infinite Degree of Pleasure and Satisfaction. In short, my old Friend, you may suppose I was quite enraptured, and immediately invited him to Breakfast with me the next Morning, to which he at first appeared to assent very readily, but when I mentioned my having a Daughter at Home who was young and handsome, he seemed much disturbed, and would fain have pretended an absolute Obligation to return directly to Oxford. I suppose he began to suspect my Intentions upon him, and thought his Time too precious to be wasted in the Company of Women. Indeed I in some Degree intimated my Wishes for such a Son-in-law, which might give him sufficient Reason for his Distrust. However, I would not let him off. So I hurried Home, and having acquainted my Daughter with the happy Prospect she had of such a Husband, and ordered her to prepare to receive him, I could not help sitting down instantly to inform you of it, and, as I fear the Post is gone out, will send it by the early Stage tomorrow tied up like a Parcel, that you may receive this happy Intelligence as speedily as possible. My dear old Friend, good by'e to you. I shall not sleep a Wink to-night.

Your most true Friend, Christopher Hartley.

P. S. Mr. Pedant said he should certainly go to Oxford in a Day or two.

Miss HARTLEY to Miss RUGG.

Hill-Street, May,

O My dear Girl, what strange Things I have to tell you! Such a Creature, such a Lump of Learning has my Father picked out for my Husband! You know his absurd Bigotry that way. But I will scribble down the whole Transaction. Last Night, my Dear, as I was just returned from two Routs, and going to Dress for the Pantheon Masquerade; half awake, half asleep, sitting on a Sopha; in twenty Minds whether I should go, or send an Excuse to my Party; half eat up with the Spleen, the Vapours, and that Kind of Ennuyant Nothing-to-do-ishness which is worse than all the Rest:—The Door flew open, and in hurried my Father, as fast as ever two Sticks and a Pair of gouty Legs could carry him. "My Dear Child," says he, "make yourself happy! Your utmost Wishes will be satisfied!" So, thought I, what the Deuce is in the Wind now. "My Dear Sir," says I, turning round to him, "what have you done? Have you got me a Ticket for Lady Racket's Private Concert." "Concert," quoth he, "No, my Dear, I have at last found out an Husband for you. I met him this Night at Mrs. Cypher's, and have prevailed on him to Breakfast here to-morrow and pay you a Visit." Well, thought I, this must be a curious Creature indeed, if it is of your chusing. "He is rather silent to be sure," added he, "but you must talk to him. I'm sure he is very learned."

After a little more Discourse of this Sort, and five hundred Encomiums passed upon Mr. Pedant, for that is his Name; off he went to Bed; and for myself, my Mind was too much engaged with the Drollery of the Adventure, to suffer my going out that Night. So I rang my Bell, and went to Bed also; dreamt all Night of nothing but Bookworms and Conjurers, and at last waked in an horrible Fright with the Idea that I was almost squeezed to death by a great Dictionary, that had fallen upon me from the Top of a Cupboard.

In Process of Time, as old story Books say, Morning arrived, which I had through mere Curiosity been longing for during the last three Hours, almost as much as if I had been to see—any Body you chuse to guess at. Between ten and eleven, having waited some Time for Mr. Pedant, we sat down to Breakfast; and just as the second Dish was poured out, a double Knock proclaimed his Arrival. The Room Door opened, and in about half a Minute my Lover appeared. His Method of Approach was to be sure somewhat singular. Whilst the Door served him for a Screen, his Advance was sideways, somewhat in the Stile of a Crab, with his Face close towards it. This was followed by a sudden Evolution upon the Heel to shut it after him; in which Situation he remained near a Minute, exhibiting one of the most ridiculous Back Fronts I ever beheld. At last, having atchieved this important Business, he suffered us to take a Peep at his Face, through the Medium of a dirty Pocket-Handkerchief, which he had whipt up to his Nose at the Instant he turned towards us; but never was any awkward School-boy, when he comes home for the Holidays, and finds his Mother in a Circle of Company, half so gauche or decontenancé. His Feet seemed fixed to the Ground at the awful Appearance of your humble Servant. Really, I never thought myself quite so terrible before. By and by he advanced, with the left Hand fumbling in his Pocket, as if he had lost Something, and the other holding fast by the lower Button of his Coat: but as Ill-luck would have it, he had scarce proceeded three Steps, when as he was gaping about for a Place to lay his Hat, and a Chair to sit down on, the sublime Majesty of my Presence, assisted by a Corner of the Carpet, (according to the Doctrine of second Causes) which his Foot happened to catch in, so staggered him, that down he prostrated at my Feet, like a Persian before the Sun. Poor Man! I thought he had been in a Fit at first! Should not you, my Dear? So I ran up to him, and dropping upon one Knee, "My dear Mr. Pedant, this is Adoration indeed! Nothing Apoplectic? Nothing of the Dead Palsy sure? You are not hurt, I hope?" "No, he was not," he said with an Air sufficiently inelegant; and at the same Instant rising with all the Hurry of Awkwardness, (not so nimbly however, but that he contrived to tear my Apron and crush my Father's gouty Toe in his Recovery,) he squatted in the first Chair he came to, which happened to be mine, and sliding one Leg softly over the other, fixed his Eyes upon his Shoe with a Look of Contemplation, which I believe would have continued till this Time, if nobody had disturbed him. Well, nothing is so odious as to see a Man in a brown Study, or what is still worse, picking his Thumbs, and buttoning and unbuttoning his Waistcoat like a City Taylor trying an ill-made Suit of Cloaths on. In this Attitude, however, did he contrive to drink a Dish of Tea which I carried him, and to eat two or three Pieces of Bread and Butter. As soon as the Breakfast Things were taken away, my Father, that he might not spoil Courtship, rose to leave the Room. His poor Companion, though he had all the Dread of altering his Position as strong upon him as ever, could not resist the Attraction; but absolutely varied his Attitude, and stealing his Head over his Shoulder by Degrees, like a Boy that is afraid of an Apparition after he has been hearing frightful Stories, eyed him wishfully to the Door, and if mauvaise honte had not for once stood his Friend, would I dare say have given up all his Stock of Politeness to have followed him.

He cast one longing lingering Look behind.

We were now left to ourselves. I, in that odd Kind of dubious Humour which a Woman feels when she is in half a Dozen Minds whether to be cross or not, found myself monstrously disposed for a little ill-natured Raillery; whilst my Swain, so far from languishing with all the Ardour of an expiring Inamorato, or opening his unhappy Case with a Sigh of Despondency, endeavoured to entertain himself as aforesaid, by squeezing and twisting his Fingers, and distorting his Countenance, like a starved Frog in a Fit of the Cholic.

True Love, they say, is always accompanied with Fear. It deprives the most Eloquent of the Powers of Speech, embarrasses the easy and polite Man, and in short turns the whole human System topsy turvey. If this be true, and if it be true likewise, that Mr. Pedant is a polite and agreeable Man, as my Father tells me, he must be most desperately smitten indeed, and I fear, poor Fellow, from the little Encouragement he is likely to receive from me, will very soon put an End to himself; or resume his Sciences, which I believe will be much the same Thing to the World in general.

Well, my Dear, for two whole Hours I tormented him with a continued String of Common-place Chit-chat and every day Questions, in which I was much assisted by the two Miss Yaffles, who accidentally dropt in upon me. I abused the Cut of his Coat, informed him his Waistcoat was too long in the Pockets, and enquired whether his Taylor was a Frenchman. I asked him how he liked the new Opera, whether he was at the Pantheon last Monday, and told him I heard that he was a Proprietor of Ranelagh. When I flagged for a Minute, my Companions opened upon him, and kept up an incessant Annoyance, which he endured not so much from Patience, I believe, as from the Horrors of making a Bow if he left us. At last a polite Thundering at the Door, like an additional Broadside, determined him; and considering that if he did not depart immediately, the Enemy would receive a Reinforcement, he jumped up from his Chair in an Instant, and retreated like the American Army in a Gazette, with the utmost Confusion.

Alas, poor Easy! thou art ignorant what a dangerous Rival opposes thee! But I do not think you will remain long so, if it is in mine or my Father's Power to acquaint you with it. Here is the State of the Case. An agreeable young Fellow introduces himself to my Father at Bath, and by the assistance of quick Parts, and a long Cock-and-Bull Story, works himself completely into his good Graces. Soon after it is thought necessary that I should be married, and for this Purpose my wise Parent picks out, as I verily believe, one of the awkwardest Boobies in the whole Kingdom of Great-Britain for his Daughter to pay her Addresses to. However, a Confidant is thought requisite to talk Matters over with, and now of all the Birds in the Air, who would you suppose the quick-sighted old Gentleman pitches upon, but this very agreeable young Fellow, this identical Easy, whose Attachment to this very Daughter of his, if he had had the Sight of a Mole, he must have discovered over and over again, before this Time.

This last Business of the Confidant, I gathered from some Hints he dropped to-day; for so much is his Mind occupied between his own Plan of Operations, and his Investigation of what perhaps never happened among the Ancients; that no Possibility ever enters his Head of the Enemy's being employed in counteracting him. If I don't see the dear Fellow in a Day or two, I'll write to him however, that he may be prepared to receive this great Trust and Secret with due Composure of Countenance. Adieu, my dear Rugg, expect farther Dispatches speedily with the freshest Intelligence.

Yours, till Marriage at least, For then I suppose I must belong entirely to my Husband, Catharine Hartley.

WILLIAM EASY, to CHARLES MELMOTH.

Temple, May 27th, Ten o'Clock at Night.

O CHARLES! O my Friend! I am ruined! I am undone! I, who last Night about this Time, was the most happy Man breathing, am now the most miserable! I am betrayed, robbed, murdered, and thrown into a Ditch! "Such were," or at least such would be the Sounds of some despairing Bookseller's Prentice, if he caught his favourite Delia in Bed with a Chimney-sweeper. Such Plaints, such miserable Exclamations would he blubber forth from the Abundance of his Master's Circulating Library, when he found a Child sworn to him by his Mistress, whose Creation he was conscious of having never assisted in. But I, Charles, whom Difficulty does but encourage; who find my Ardour increase in Proportion to the Obstacles I am to encounter; shall tell you in plain English, and in perfect Composure, that I am rivalled in Miss Hartley's Affections. Perhaps now you think me rather too Easy after such a Discovery. I fancy however, you will not be of that Opinion, when I let you a little into the Character of my Opponent, and the Means by which I became acquainted with the Affair. His Name is Pedant; his Profession a College Tutor, his Age I guess at about Thirty, for I remember him well at the University about three Years longer standing than myself. He is one of that particular Species of Beings who at School gain the Imputation of something uncommonly clever, from a Kind of solitary Vanity and Affectation of Manliness which they have about them; who never join in any of the Sports of their Schoolfellows, but instead of playing at Cricket or Football on an Holiday, pretend to read Greek under a Tree for their Amusement, (in Imitation of the old Pagans I suppose in the hallowed Groves of Academe;) and are for ever puzzling their Leisure Hours with Authors that they are not required to look into, and cannot possibly understand. With this Stock of Knowledge they are sent to the University, where they probably get a Scholarship, or some little Emolument of that Sort. Their Mind is now bewildered in all the Labyrinths of Science; and having in the Course of about seven Years sufficiently perplexed themselves with Mathematics, sophisticated themselves with Logic, and got through all the Farce and methodized Nonsense necessary for taking Degrees, the Generals, Juraments, Wall Lectures, and Examinations: they start up all at once, Masters of Arts, Tutors and Governors of their College; a Set of the most erudite, insolent, awkward, uncivilized Animals that ever honoured an University, or disgraced all other Parts of a Kingdom. In Regard to the History of the Day, or how the World goes, as we say; their Ignorance of present Occurrences is equalled by nothing but their thorough Acquaintance with the Statesmen, Warriours, and Demireps of Antiquity. They are all a thousand Years behind Hand; and I dare say would give a much better Account of the Bellum Peloponnesiacum, the Pestilence that raged among the Athenians, or the Burning of Rome by Nero the Emperor, than they could possibly do of the present Contest with America, the dreadful Effects of the late terrible Influenza, or the firing Portsmouth Dock-yard by John the Painter. Strip their Gowns from their Shoulders, and lock them out of their Library, their magical Powers are at an End; and if they were turned loose in London in this Situation, they would be far more at a Loss in every Respect, than the late imported Specimen of Savages from the Islands of the South. "Remember, (as Caliban says of Prospero)

First to possess his Books, for without them

He's but a Sot as I am; and hath not

One Spirit to command.—Burn but his Books.

Well, my dear Friend, do you think you should know this Rival from the Description I have given; and do you think there is much to be feared from him, all Circumstances considered? Miss Hartley laughs at him, and tormented him so completely the last Visit he made her, which by the Bye was the first, and that owing to her Father's pressing Invitation, that I suspect he will soon fly off in a Tangent, and have nothing farther to say to her. But now for the Means by which I gained all this Knowledge. This whole Day has been spent with old Hartley. As soon as we were left to ourselves after Dinner, he began with Mr. Pedant, and in about half an Hour unfolded his Plan of Operations to me as completely as I could have wished▪ concluding with desiring my Assistance as Confidant. That before he left London, which would not be till the End of July, he meant to visit Oxford, whither he hoped I would accompany him, and that he should if possible, prevail upon Pedant to spend some Time with him in Dorsetshire. During this Discourse, you may guess I was in a most ridiculous Situation. However, I smothered my Astonishment tolerably well, and entirely acquiesced in every Thing; pretending to approve his Plan highly. After Tea, the old Gentleman took a Nap, and consequently gave me the Opportunity of a charming Tête à Tête with my Kitty, (as I hope she will be.) which I believe did not much promote Mr. Pedant's Interest. On Saturday he departs to Oxford, as I shall immediately to Bed, and defer the Conclusion of this Letter till to-morrow. Good Night to you.

W. Easy.

EASY in Continuation.

May 28th, Friday Morning.

IF you find any Thing abrupt or unconnected in this second Part of my Letter, you must attribute it to the ridiculous Manner in which I was waked this Morning. Between seven and eight o'Clock, an Hour when you know nobody is stirring in London except Dustmen and Chimney-sweepers, with here and there an accidental Milkmaid, or a Carriage returning from the Masquerade; I was roused from a very sound Sleep by a violent and incessant Thundering at my Door. By the Time I had opened my Eyes, and turned about to see what was the Matter; I discovered the Author of all this Riot, who had forced his Way in, and was standing by my Bed-side. He was a very shabby looking Fellow, about the middle Size, with an old rusty Hat flapped over his Face, a threadbare Coat of coarse blue Kersey, close buttoned, and in his Hand a very inimical Oak Staff of at least two Inches diameter. For some Time I was in doubt whether to consider him as a Thief, Thief-taker, or Bailiff; three Characters I am exceedingly averse to being connected with; and should probably have laboured much longer under this Uncertainty, had I not recognized the Voice of our old Friend and Schoolfellow, Sir Thorobred Rugg, who arrived in England about three Days before, and now made his Appearance with the Intention of breakfasting with me. Whilst I was dressing, he entertained me with the Detail of some of his Holland Exploits. How he had terrified two Jew Merchants into a Fit of Illness, by committing the dark Deed of Nature on their Sabbath, with a mad Dutchwoman under a Hedge, whom he gave a Schelling for her Trouble, and had his Pocket picked into the Bargain. How he had got drunk about a Week before he left the Hague, and had thrown two Clappermen into one of the Canals, having first packed them up carefully in a Couple of four-dozen Hampers. And finally, how he had been rambling half over London last Night. with his two Friends, Jack Surcingle and Tom Fetlock, whom he had met by Accident at the Piazza Coffee-house. How they had all been to a great Fire that had happened somewhere or other, though he had forgot where: that he had ran up one of the Ladders, and brought down a Woman and Child from a two pair of Stairs Room that was burning; had drank Purl with the Firemen; and as he was coming home, had got into an empty Watch-box, and made a one-eyed Watchman take to his Heels, and drop his Staff and Lantern, by jumping out upon him and crying boh! as he was returning to his Stand from the Ale-house; and how he had hung up another to the Hooks of a Butcher's Shambles by the Waistband of his Breeches.

By the Time these Histories were finished, I was dressed and ready for Breakfast; when just as the first Dish of Tea was poured out, he recollected that his Face had not been washed since his Arrival in England, and ran immediately to my washing Stand. This however did not answer his Purpose, as the Bason, which I had just been using, was not emptied. That it was possible to throw its Contents out of the Window, and fill it with clean Water, never once occurred to him, if one may judge from the Method he substituted; which was no other than dipping the Corner of the Breakfast Cloth into his Tea-cup, and wiping himself with his dirty Pocket Handkerchief. My Breakfast and his Ablution being finished, he turned his Face towards the Looking-glass, and unluckily discovered that shaving also was in some Degree proper, as he was engaged out to Dinner. So all necessary Implements being produced for the Purpose, he began his Operation; but had scarcely cleared one Side of his Countenance, when the injudicious Motion of the under Jaw, occasioned by some sudden Remark he was about to make, laid the Razor a full half Inch into his Cheek. Blood followed pretty plentifully as you may imagine: This however being staunched by scraping from his Hat the small Quantity of Nap that remained there, and applying to the Wound; he determined to avoid risquing a second Incision, by leaving the other Side of his Face untouched; and having staid with me about an Hour longer, he sallied out to pay a few more Morning Visits, and from thence to the House whither he was engaged to Dinner.

If ever Man had Pretensions to Originality, surely this has! and yet with all his Oddities and Foibles, one cannot help liking him. He is, I really think, a very worthy Fellow at Bottom, and has a good Heart. Old Thistleberry, the Parson of his Parish in Yorkshire is dead lately, and he means to present Tom Fetlock, who is in Orders, to the Living. In a few Days he goes to Woodstock upon a Visit to his Uncle and Sister, and from thence to Foxhall, his Yorkshire Seat. His Sister I believe accompanies him thither, and I am engaged to pay him a Visit when I can find Leisure. This I fancy will soon take place, as I should wish to spend some Time there, and must nevertheless return to London early enough to attend old Hartley on his curious Oxford Expedition. Vive, Vale, farewell.

Your's, W. Easy.

CHARLES MELMOTH, to WILLIAM EASY.

Melmoth Place, June,

YOUR last Letter my dear Easy, was really a great Treat to me, and I give you Joy of your Rival from the Bottom of my Soul. What a Fund of Entertainment must he be to Miss Hartley his intended Wife, if he accepts her Father's Invitation into Dorsetshire; which however I have my Doubts about. How often will his Presence be useful, "Vice Cotis," instead of a Whetstone, to sharpen her Wit upon, and relieve her Spirits from the dreadful Dejection of a Country Atmosphere. Though I don't think her one of those mad Girls, who can never exist but in the Noise and Dissipation of London. She likes it very much when she is there 'tis true, as indeed is natural enough; but I really believe her capable of spending her Summer in the Country, with no other Diversions than her Books, her Horse, and her Husband, provided she is fond of him; and now and then the Variety of visiting in a good Neighbourhood. This at least is the Opinion I have been inclined to entertain from what I have heard or seen of her, since the Night you introduced me at Ranelagh, and you know I pique myself upon a ready Discernment, even into Women's Characters. The Contrast between Pedant and our Friend, Sir Thorobred, in the first and second Parts of your Letter, is exceedingly ridiculous, and upon Paper makes no bad Figure. How exquisite must a Meeting be between them! I remember we had many of those walking Libraries at Cambridge. I am glad the said Sir Thorobred is returned from the Hague; my Compliments when you go down. As you wisely remark, there is something very original in the Composition of that Man. Take away his excessive Passion for Horses; (and yet, as every Body has their Hobby-horse, the Object perhaps may as well be real as metaphorical) His Imitation of Charles the Twelfth in all the negative Excellencies of dirty Face and Hands, old blue Coats, and Brass Buttons; and that strange Extravagance and Wildness, which is sometimes the Cause of good, and sometimes of foolish Actions, just as it happens: which as Whim and Humour prompt, will induce him to rescue a Woman out of a Fire, or to throw a Waiter into one: take away all this, I say, and he is a very rational Fellow. As to Sense, he is possessed of very quick natural Parts, though I cannot say much for their Cultivation. Literature he never was particularly fond of, and when at the University, the illiberal Manners of its Teachers, greatly contributed I believe to make him despise the one for the Faults of the other, and throw it up entirely. This was my general Opinion of his Character when I last saw him, and by your Account of his Morning Visit in the Temple, his Travels do not seem to have produced the least Alteration. I may add likewise, as the finishing Stroke to his Picture, and which indeed the utter Neglect of his Person somewhat prepares one for; that in Regard to all the Minutiae of Life, if I may so call them, such as snuffing a Candle without throwing the Snuff about, mending a Pen, tearing a Piece of Paper evenly, or sealing a Letter without burning both it and his own Fingers, with five Hundred other little Excellencies of this Sort, he has not the least Idea of them. Now whether this proceeds from a natural and innate Awkwardness in such Matters, or a Degree of Absence and Inattention to them, I never yet could determine. For if he wanted a Pair of clean Stockings, and his Servant should bring a Silk and a Thread one, or a Pair with half a dozen great Holes in them, he would put them on without perceiving either the one or the other. All these Peculiarities, Easy, you are full as well acquainted with as myself, but upon mentioning his Name, I could not help falling into Remarks, and scribbling my Paper with them.

To return now to the Beginning of your Letter, (for I will not trouble you this Time with any Hobby-horsical Intelligence of my Buildings and Alterations,) I am very sorry to find myself under the disagreeable Necessity of reprobating that profane Ridicule of modern Novels, with which you open your Misfortunes; and at the same Time must take the Liberty of informing you, that "What should be great, you turn to Farce," as Prior says; (I will not wish you punished by the Insertion of a Ladle;) or to search farther into Antiquity for a Quotation, "What is Sport to you is Death to us." Vide Aesop's Fable of the Boys and Frogs. To speak more plainly, though your London Volatility may prompt you to laugh at every Thing that speaks feelingly to the softer Passions; that tells the sad Tale of disappointed Love, or breathes amidst innumerable Stars and Dashes, the Strains of Refinement and Sensibility: our Country Swains and Damsels are very differently affected by them. To promote your Conversion, if that be possible, I desire you will read the inclosed Letter, which was found a few Days since in a Closet in one of the Garrets, and by the Signature appears to have been written by Mrs. Melmoth's last Maid, who quitted her about a Twelvemonth ago. I always thought there was something particular and romantic in the Girl, and suspected a Love Affair at the Bottom. The Argument of the inclosed is as follows. That John o'Nokes and herself felt a mutual Attachment to each other, and that she had almost given her Consent to marry him; but that unluckily Tom O'Stiles becoming acquainted with her about that Time, is likewise desperately smitten. Upon this, he declares his Passion; and she, though not experiencing any similar Inclination on her Part, and being also previously engaged, is nevertheless worked up to such a Pitch of general Philanthropy, and Sentiment, and Pathos, &c. &c. &c. as to determine that she will marry neither of them, and by this noble Self-denial, (according to our dull Apprehensions at least) she makes three People unhappy instead of one. Whether she took her Idea from Foote's Primitive Puppetshow, I cannot pretend to say. As to the Letter, it appears to have been written just before she quitted our Place, and whither she went afterwards, nobody knows hereabouts. However I send you the Original, and leave you to decipher it at your Leisure.

About ten o'Clock last Night, I was not a little surprised by the Appearance of my Brother George at Melmoth-Place, when I imagined him treading the Paths of Slaughter in America. I cannot say his Looks are much improved by the Expedition. Indeed he says that he has hardly enjoyed a Day's good Health since he left England, and as the Climate does not at all agree with his Constitution, he has obtained Leave of Absence, and has some Thoughts of resigning his Commission, and entirely quitting the Army, which he mentioned to General Howe before his Departure. He says he had written a Letter to me about two Months since, which I suppose must have miscarried. One of his first Enquiries was after Miss Rugg, for whom you know he always professed a certain Tendre, as far at least as his Nature is capable of; so I dare say, if she goes down to Yorkshire with Sir Thorobred, you will soon see him there. He still retains his Attachment to Morocco Pocket Books, Shagreen Toothpick Cases, and Orange Flower Pomade; and continues to read Lord Chesterfield's Letters with much Devotion, though I don't think he imbibes any of the pernicious Parts of them. A-propos— he talks of writing a long Letter to you soon, on the Presumption of which Event taking Place, I think it high Time to subscribe myself as I really am,

Yours, sincerely, Charles Melmoth.

The Inclosed Letter.

'TIS past! the fatal Trial is over; and my Resolutions are invincibly fixed. What have been my Sensations, what have been my Sufferings, since I last saw you Roger! But, alas! such is the Unhappiness of my Destiny! why was I born to such a Load of unmerited Misfortune; why was my Life marked out for one continued Scene of Misery and Distress! It is too—too much! my Soul sinks under it; and with a weak tremulous Languor, wafts its Prayers incessant to the Throne of Mercy, to put a finite Period to the peculiar Wretchedness of its Existence.

How happy was our last Meeting, when we passed our Sunday Evening in the Fields of —. The Country seemed to glow with unusual Verdure; whilst before us the Prospect wide extending itself, incorporated its boundless Limits in the blue Distance of Immensity. The May Thorn breathed forth its bitter Fragrance, and every Bush was impregnated with the mellifluous Lays of the Thrush and the Nightingale. The very Daisies smiled at our Felicity, whilst the Butterflowers rearing high their yellow Heads, sought to emulate the Tranquillity of the golden Age.

We proceeded to Lord D—'s Park. A fine River winds its Way in serpentine Meandrings through the green Verdure of its Banks. At the Source in a reclining Posture, is a Figure of Neptune in Stone, incomparably executed. His right Arm rests upon an Urn, from whence the Stream disgorging itself, rushes onward with an impetuous Torrent, forming a most beautiful Cascade. Hark! didn't I hear Betty call me? I'll just step down stairs for a Minute to see what she wants. * * * Oh! 'tis nothing but the Man with Fish! "We don't want any to-day."

We seated ourselves by the Side of it; and gazed at the Multitude of litttle Fishes, which leaping incessantly after the Flies that skimmed upon its Surface, dimpled the Water with innumerable Circles. Around us Herds of spotted Deer were roving, or stretched incumbent on the rushy Banks, fearless of Acteon's fate.—Another Interruption! my Mistress's Bell rings! What can she want with me!— * * * * *. I am just returned from her. I'm quite out of Breath! 'twas only to fetch some Water to wash her Hands with.

On a sudden a dark Cloud, as if envious of our Felicity, and ominously portending the sad Reverse that awaited us, obscured the Face of the Sun, which till then had shone upon us with undiminished Lustre. A heavy Storm of Rain succeeded, and we were compelled to take Shelter in a Grotto at the Corner of the Wood, where * * * * * * * *.

[Here several Lines are entirely obliterated. Hiatus valde deflendus.]

I was sitting in my Mistress's Closet; the Family were gone out to pay a Visit. My right Leg, resting its Ancle upon my left Knee, sustained itself horizontally, whilst I mended a Hole in my new Cotton Stockings. Dear Cotton Stockings! ye pure Emblems of my Roger's Love! A gentle Tap at the Door—my Heart palpitated as I heard it. I fancied it might be you! The Tap was repeated, but with a Sound methought expressive of Unhappiness and Submission! I was at that Instant endeavouring to push a fresh Piece of Thread through the Eye of my Needle. Come in, I cried with a Tone of Surprise and Irresolution! The Door opened! With a Face wan and death-like, he stood before me!—'Twas Humphrey, the poor unhappy Humphrey! On his Countenance had seated itself a fixed Melancholy! His Lips quivered with Sorrow, but he remained speechless before me. Judge the Wretchedness of my Situation! The Thread dropt from my Hand, and I stuck the Needle into my * * * * * *[†]. Blood immediately followed the Stroke, and I suffered a considerable Degree of Anguish. But, alas! what was that Pain compared to my mental Affliction. He drew a Chair, and seated himself by me without speaking a Word. On a sudden he caught my Hand, and looking stedfastly on my Face, while the Tears started from his Eye; uttered the following Words mingled with his Sighs.

"I come not, Mrs. Susan," (here his Voice faultered, and he wiped his Nose with his Sleeve) "I come not, Mrs. Susan, I say," (here he recovered himself a little, and proceeded in a rather firmer Tone) ‘to displeasure you any more upon the Subject of Matrimony, as I did before; knowing well that you do not like me; and besides that you are already engaged to Roger. So, alas! there's an End of all Hopes on that Head for me! But I hope you wont be angry with me for coming to take my last farewell of you. For indeed, I could not help coming to see you before I went.’ "Went," cried I, with a Voice of the utmost Pity and Surprize, ‘and whither art thou going?’ "I'm going", cried he, sniveling, ‘to—to—list for a Soldier! I can't bear to see you belong to another Man!—You were the guiding Star of my Destiny, to guide me on my Way; but when you are set in the Arms of another! I'm sure I can't, no! I never can stand it!’ At these Words he started from his Chair, and with a Look of wild Disorder, slam'd the Door and left me.

Poor Soul! How I pitied him! 'Tis true, I never liked him, and that I am almost engaged to be thy Wife. But shall I, for the Sake of my own Happiness, be so selfish as to make a Fellow Creature miserable for ever? What shall I do? how shall I act in this embarrassing Dilemma? Shall I . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . No—Happiness could never be my Lot. Even in thy Arms I should . . . . . Let us exert our Reason, Roger; let us call our Fortitude to our Assistance. The Fates have decreed us to be unhappy, but it is in our own Power whether we shall make others so. If I am condemned to be wretched, it will at least be some Consolation amidst the Bitterness of my Distresses; some Alleviation of my insuperable Anguish; to reflect that I have not contributed to the Misery of another. If I am excluded from every Ray of Comfort, and compelled to wander in the dark Paths and Labyrinths of Adversity; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ah, Roger! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I conceive . . . . . . his Misery, . . . . . . . . . the Pains of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Labour he must endure, what intolerable Hardships!

From the World I seclude myself for ever! such is my fixed Resolution. Before this reaches you, I leave my Place, and quit this Part of the Country! Enquire no farther. To find me out you need not endeavour. I go where you will never more hear of the most unfortunate of her Sex! Adieu!— Farewell — for e—ver!

Susannah Sentiment.

Notes

†
The Printer takes this Opportunity of apologizing to the Public, for the many Errata and Omissions which may be found in this Letter; it being so rubbed, and torn, and scratched, and blotted with Tears, in several Places, as to render a Discovery of the Meaning impossible.
↵

Miss HARTLEY to Miss RUGG.

Hill-street, June,

MY dear Rugg, how long do you mean to keep that odious Name by you? I protest it gives one the Idea of something uncivilized even in the writing it, and disperses every finer Idea one might have to communicate. Besides, 'tis so wholly inconsistent with your Character. Do look out for a young Fellow with something delicate and piano in his Appellation, and with a Disposition suited to your own. Shall I recommend one to you? Or will you accept of one of mine? Easy I cannot spare, but you are welcome to my Father's Friend, Mr. Pedant; at least as soon as I am tired with teasing him. He is returned to Oxford; the fittest Place for him. What think you of the Name? How would the Title of Mrs. Pedant, Wife and Bedmaker to a College Tutor, sound in your Ears?

Not to joke longer, I have really a great Piece of News for you, and something to propose seriously to your Consideration in the Matrimonial Way. As for myself, I believe I never shall think seriously of any Thing 'till I am married; and then I suppose I must draw myself up with my Hands before me, talk with a grave Face about the Cares of a Family, and deliberate with my Housekeeper for two Hours every Morning, what Piece of salting Beef should be ordered from the Butcher, and whether a Gooseberry or a Currant Pye will be best for Dinner.

Come now for the News. Easy dined with us a Day or two ago, and amongst other Intelligence told us that he had received a Letter from his Friend Charles Melmoth, mentioning the Return of his Brother the Captain from America, on Account of the Climate not agreeing. What think you of him for a Caro Sposo? If I recollect, he was an old Flame of yours before he went abroad.

O! I beg Leave to congratulate you likewise upon your Brother's Arrival. The Name of Rugg was for him and him only! Pray present my respectful Compliments, and tell him I rejoice to find he makes his public Entry in the Morning Post with so much Eclat. I have seen him there with some Circumstances in Regard to the Course of his Travels, which were entirely new to me. ‘Such a Day arrived in England, Sir T— R—, commonly known by the Name of the rough riding, or Thorough-bred Baronet, from his Travels to the Country of the Houyhnhnms. He is said to be much improved by this Expedition, and has brought over with him a fine Houyhnhnm Stallion, with two Yahoos to look after it. He is the second European that ever visited those Parts, and is reported to have detected many Errors in Captain Lemuel Gulliver's Account, which it is hoped he will soon favour the Public with.’

A few Days afterwards appears the following Paragraph. ‘We are sorry to inform the Public of the Death of one of the Animals called Yahoos, lately imported by a certain Rugg—ed Baronet, which happened on Wednesday last.’ ‘It was occasioned a Correspondent informs us, by the following Accident. The Animal it seems having some Time before been very refractory, and having even killed a Servant who attempted to chastise him, was obliged to be closely confined. On Wednesday Morning however, his Keepers unchained him, and having as they thought sufficiently secured him with Ropes, put him into a Cart in Order to remove him; when unluckily the Rope about his Neck having a slip Knot to it, entangled with a Post not far from the Oxford Road Turnpike, and instantly strangled him. Dr. H-nt-r is said to be making Interest for the Body for Dissection, as he proposes mounting the Skeleton upon that of the Queen's Elephant, which he lately had the Honour to anatomize.’

O! the Liberty of the Press, we may well cry out, that glorious Privilege of Englishmen! Pray tell me though, in sober serious Sadness, is all this true? I have a monstrous Mind to write a long Letter to your Brother upon the Subject, and protest that I believe every Word of it. I find he intends taking you into Yorkshire with him. I wish he would bring you to London, to keep me Company for a Month, for my Father for Reasons of State, which I cannot dive thoroughly to the Bottom of, has determined to continue here till the End of July or Beginning of August. Easy tells me that he has an Oxford Jaunt in his Head, and means to transplant Pedant into Dorsetshire. What a charming Country Companion he must make, for a Tête à Tête in an Arbour, to pick up one's Ball of Knotting, or put one's Calash on with mathematical Precision. Never need I be afraid of my Cap or Handkerchief being pinned awry, when that happy Time arrives. Besides, I dare say, as far at least as Things future may be conjectured from past, my father's great Wisdom will insist upon Easy's accompanying us, in his Capacity of Confidant and Confessor to the Party, to forward this intended Match of mine. In Expectation of these blessed Events, I conclude without farther Ceremony, Ma chere Marie,

Your's, Catharine Hartley.

Remember I shall be very angry with you though, if that demure prudish little Phiz of yours, makes any Attempts upon the Fidelity of my Knight Errant, when I venture him down in the North with you.

〈1 page duplicate〉

〈1 page duplicate〉

CHRISTOPHER HARTLEY, Esq to Sir ANTHONY ARTICHOKE.

Hill-Street, June.

WELL, my old Friend, Matters go on swimmingly between Mr. Pedant and Kitty. He came according to his Promise the next Morning to Breakfast, and very glad I was to see him. However he did not seem much inclined to talk whilst I was there, which I suppose was owing to an Unwillingness to declare himself before a third Person. So as soon as Breakfast was finished, I quitted the Room, that he might feel himself more free and unembarassed when left alone with my Daughter. And by the Sequel it proved that this Step of mine was very judicious; for I went immediately into my Study, which is next to the Room they sat in, and listening attentively, I soon found they had begun a Conversation together, and though I could not hear what it was about, yet I am sure my Daughter was very well pleased with him, for I heard her laugh heartily. Sometime after I could distinguish two other female Voices, which upon Enquiry I found to appertain to the Miss Yaffles. These seemed join in the Discourse, which now grew louder and louder, mixed with incessant Peals of Merriment. As for Mr. Pedant, nothing could be a stronger Proof of his Satisfaction, than that he could hardly prevail upon himself to quit them, for I believe he stayed there near four Hours. So I have no Doubt in my own Mind, but that he is a little hampered in the Charms of the Fair, for even the most learned of us sometimes feel ourselves subject to the Passion of Love. If he should, what a happy Thing it will be for my Daughter! Her Fortune will be made at once, and I can tell her such Husbands are not to be met with every Day. However, I do not say much upon the Subject to her, because I think these Things always turn out best when left to themselves; but I have contrived such a Plan as must necessarily increase the Intimacy between them, insomuch that if I have any Skill in Prophecy, Matters will be brought to a Conclusion before the End of the Summer. I shall not let you any farther into the Secret before the first Part of my Design has actually taken Place, as upon that the Success of the whole in a great Measure depends. Not that I have the least Fear of its failing, for I have a Confidant to assist me in the Business, by whose Diligence and Exertions I have no Doubt of all Things being brough• to a right Issue. Who he is, I shall not inform you at present, a Secresy you know is the Soul of Conspiracy, and they say Walls have Ears, but shall proceed now with transcribing my Sentiments on a Subject which indeed I should have mentioned much sooner, had not my Proceedings and Considerations concerning my Daughter's Marriage, left me hardly a Moment to spare for any other Business. I mean the Nihil or Nothing of the Schoolmen, which, if you recollect, we disputed about for three Afternoons at Staples, when neither of us being able to make his Ideas on the Subject at all clear to the Understanding of the other, we left off just where we begun.

Now I am inclined to think that there is a very considerable Distinction and Difference to be made between Nothing as taken in its strict and confined Sense, and Nothing taken in its more general and extensive one. Nothing taken strictly, seems to be that which is impossible, and implies an absolute Contradiction; whereas Nothing taken more generally, is applied both to what is possible as well as what is impossible. Again, Nothing may be distinguished into a Negative, which is the Absence of Reality in any Subject; and then there is Nothing privative, which is the Absence of Reality in a Subject capable thereof, or wherein it ought to be found. And as to the Possibility or Impossibility of a Thing, we know that to be impossible, which exceeds or is beyond all possible Bounds, and which in short can never happen. And if this be true, it necessarily follows, according to the Argument deduced from Contraries, that whatsoever does not exceed or go beyond those Bounds, but which, from its not exceeding, is consequently and necessarily contained therein; may be denominated or considered as a Thing possible, or to be done. And of Things possible, there are several Species. First, there is the probable, or what is likely to come to pass; then there is the improbable, or unlikely, which nevertheless is a Species of the possible, inasmuch as many Things may be very possible, though they are very improbable. And in Regard to Things probable and improbable, it is often very probable that a Thing should happen contrary to all Probability, as — . . . .

‘O! Fallacem Hominum Spem, fragilemque Fortunam, et inanes nostras Contentiones!’ says Cicero. —I have been this Quarter of an Hour seeking after the Continuation of my Treatise, which was written upon an old Letter Cover, and upon enquiring of my Servant if he knew any thing of the Matter, have the Unhappiness to find that before this Time it has been made Use of in cleaning a Gridiron, or singeing a Fowl, or some such culinary Employment, as he informed me that he had seen the Housemaid bringing a considerable Quantity of Papers down Stairs in the Morning, which she had given to the Cook for the Use of the Kitchen, and which me said, ‘she supposed were of no Signification, as she had looked at them, and cou'd'nt make nothing out of 'em, and they laid about and look'd littering in Master's Room.’—Well, what a provoking Circumstance this is, and particularly at present, as my Thoughts are so taken up with Mr. Pedant and my Daughter, that I shall hardly find Time to compose it over again. Therefore my dear old Friend and Cousin, God be with you.

Christopher Hartley.

Sir THOROBRED RUGG to WILLIAM EASY, Esq.

Woodstock, June,

HERE I am, Easy, according to my Intentions, paying a Visit to my Uncle or Sister, and enjoying the Benefit of a Fortnight's Grass in Oxfordshire. In a few Days however I think of being led down to Foxhall, and my Sister has promised to accompany me, by way of arranging my Domestic Matters a little. The Stable I consider as my own Department, so shall not permit her to interfere there. I came down here upon a Hack I bought at Tattersall's, which I meant to have rode to Yorkshire, but a damn'd Brute of my Uncle's, one of the Cart-horses, kicked him plump on the Stifle Yesterday Morning, as they were in the Field together. He is a develish clever Gelding. A dark Chesnut, fifteen Hands and an Inch, fine Forehand, rather too much Daylight under him, but gets on hellishly, a remarkable Gift of going, a very good Mouth, and he shall be a sound one however. So I shall be obliged to kick myself down upon Post-horses, (as for a Chaise, I hate it,) and leave him behind me for the present. I met Tom Fetlock the Day I saw you, and desired him to come to Foxhall as soon as he could, that I should be down in ten Days or a Fortnight, and expected to find him ready to receive me. Pray when do I see you there? I hope speedily. I have a little grey Poney with a hogg'd Mane, will just suit your sober Stile of riding. It is what you would call as quiet as a Lamb, and I a damn'd Slugg, or a Jackass. At least it was so before I went Abroad. I used sometimes to ride him to cover, but he's got almost too old for Work now. I never regretted any thing so much in my Life, since the Day I strained Black Sloven leaping a Turnpike Gate, as I did losing the last Hunting Season in Holland. Poor Fellow, he never was worth Sixpence afterwards! though I got him tolerably well of that too, but then, and what the Devil was the Meaning of it, I can't conceive, there came a Windgall in the near Fetlock behind. So I opened the Swelling about an Inch, and squeezed out the Jelly, and put some white of Egg and Oil of Bays with Tow to it, but I believe it was too much amongst the Sinews, for I was obliged to sell him at last to March at Maidenhead, who fired him and worked him on the Road. Adieu,

Yours, Thorobred Rugg.

Miss RUGG to Miss HARTLEY.

Woodstock, June.

MANY Thanks my Dear, for your two very communicative Letters. Upon my Word you have tormented poor Pedant in such a Manner, that I fear your Charms will hardly be able to prevent his running away, not with, but from you. To-morrow my Brother departs for Yorkshire, on Horseback as usual, accompanied by your humble Servant in a Chaise. Should nothing material prevent, I shall probably spend great Part of the Summer with him, as he seems to wish much for my Company; besides, Easy's Appearance there will certainly be an additional Inducement, and we are not without Hopes of seeing Captain Melmoth; at least my Brother designs giving him an Invitation. Somehow or other, I wish he may come down to us. He is such an agreeable convenient Man in the Country, and he is always so ready to ride, or walk, or do just as I please with. Do not imagine from this now; that I have any Thoughts of him in a serious Way, notwithstanding your Recommendation. And yet, if I was obliged to submit to an Husband, I think I might like him well enough, provided that he was not in the Army. But that Circumstance, believe me, would be an invincible Barrier, supposing all other Matters could be brought about, of which however there is not the least Prospect, and therefore let us drop the Subject.

My Brother returns, you many Thanks for the Honour of your obliging Enquiries, as well as for the Paragraphs relative to his Travels, which you were so kind as to transcribe. What dreadful Fatigues he must have undergone in America, if one half of the Newspaper Accounts are true. As to his being improved by his Expedition, he desires me to tell you that he is infinitely the worse for it I fear, or he would hardly have quitted the Country on Account of his Health; however at all Events I am glad he is returned.—Good God! what Nonsense have I written! Well, Kitty, since the Discovery is made, I will not erase my Weakness. Interpret me as you please. That I may not however add to my Folly, I beg Leave instantly to subscribe myself

Your most affectionate Maria Rugg.

Information about this book

Title statement

Learning at a loss, or the amours of Mr. Pedant and Miss Hartley. A novel. In two volumes.: [pt.1]

Way, G. L. (Gregory Lewis), d. 1799.

Publication

Distributor

University of Oxford Text Archive
Oxford University Computing Services
13 Banbury Road
Oxford
OX2 6NN
ota@oucs.ox.ac.uk

ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4815

ID [isbn10]

1106018141

ID [isbn13]

9781106018144

ID [TCP]

K078489.001

ID [BIBNO]

CW3313356661

ID [ECLL]

0553000201

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— Learning at a loss, or the amours of Mr. Pedant and Miss Hartley. A novel. In two volumes., Way, G. L. (Gregory Lewis), d. 1799.. 2v. ; 8⁰. London :: printed for the author, and sold by H. Gardner; and J. Bew,. 1778.. [Anonymous. By Gregory Lewis Way.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT97491.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

Creation

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2p5.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

Editorial practices

This electronic text file was keyed from page images and partially proofread for accuracy. Character capture and encoding have been done following the guidelines of the ECCO Text Creation Partnership, which correspond roughly to the recommendations found in Level 4 of the TEI in Libraries Guidelines. Digital page images are linked to the text file.