him write no more—an epigram in Martial, which he had paraphrased and applied to Lord Burlington's house at Chiswick, and his lordship's performances as an architect, having got about and made Lord and Lady Burlington, and their friend, his Grace of Grafton, extremely angry with him.* The prose dramatic piece that follows was written on the Queen's saying what an alteration in the Palace Lord Hervey's death would make, how many people would mourn, and how many rejoice; to which Lord Hervey replied, he believed he could guess just how it would be; and being pressed to tell, said he would do it in writing.

CHAPTER XXV.

[The Epistle, notwithstanding some lively and well-turned passages, is as a whole neither so pointed nor so polished, nor in such good taste, as might have been expected from Lord Hervey, and will add little to his poetical reputation. Admit

* The Epigram, I presume, was :—

"Possess'd of one great hall for state,
Without a place to sleep or eat;
How well you build let flattery tell,
And all mankind how ill you dwell!"

which is a paraphrase of the two last of the eight lines of the 50th Epigram of Martial's 12th book :

"Atria longa patent: sed nec cœnantibus usquam
Nec sorno locus est: quam bene non habitas!"

which had been already imitated in a jeu d'esprit on Blenheim, concluding thus:

"Thanks, Sir, cried I, 'tis very fine,

But where d' ye sleep, and where d' ye dine?

I find, by all you have been telling,

That 'tis a house, but not a dwelling."

Lord Hervey also said of the villa at Chiswick, that "it was too small to live in, and too large to hang to one's watch. Subsequent additions, however, have made Lord Burlington's pavilion a tolerable house-and there died Mr. Fox and Mr. Canning.

ting, as it is only fair to do, that it was a hasty effusion, and that much of personal allusion and temporary pleasantry must be lost to us, it still seems a very uncouth though laboured attempt at a style of writing which Pope had lately brought to such perfection; and it seems strange enough that Lord Hervey, smarting, as we should suppose, under Pope's recent lash, should have condescended to borrow (as an attentive reader will perceive that he does) several hints from the very pieces in which he himself had been so cruelly satirized. The Dramatic piece which follows is better in every respect but one, and is no doubt a lively picture of the scene.

It is not without hesitation that I copy several coarse expressions in both these pieces; but some passages-even those put into the mouths of royal and noble ladies-are too grossly indelicate for publication, for which, however, Lord Hervey clearly intended them. I at first doubted whether all trace of these passages should not be suppressed; but, considering that they were written by the elegant Lord Hervey for the perusal of the exemplary Queen, and that they certainly exhibit the style of the times, it seems right to indicate their existence as an important item in the estimate of character and the history of manners.

The communication of either of these pieces-but particularly the second-to Queen Caroline, would prove that Lord Hervey must have been not merely in great favour, but in a very confidential familiarity; and I am, I confess, not much more surprised at the indelicacies attributed to her Majesty than at the freedom with which some peculiarities of her style, temper, and manners, as well as her imperfect English are exhibited.

I have attempted, not always I fear with success, to elucidate some of the temporary and personal allusions; but there are others of which I can offer no explanation.

The reader will observe that Lord Hervey has worked up into these pleasantries several facts and characteristic anecdotes which he had already more gravely mentioned.]

TO THE QUEEN.

'Tis true, great Queen! I have your dread commands
No more with ink to stain these scribbling hands;
No more in duchtich* verse, or teufish prose,
To raccommodet my friends, or lash my foes;
But how shall I this flippant pen restrain,
Like hellebore so long has purged my brain?
I should go mad were I to stop the drain!

}

If, then, like Midas' barber I am curst,
And feel that I must either vent or burst;
Allow me still those midwives, pen and ink,
(To You, at least, let me on paper think)-
'Tis a sharp labour-You may make it safe;
I shall be brought to bed, and you will laugh.
To you I'll teach each Betty Cotton‡ tale
And harmless joke, whilst sourer blockheads rail:
Let Fog and Danvers call each courtier slave,
Each senator a mean corrupted knave;
And all your Palace crew, from prow to helm,
Huns-nas, bernheuter, reckel, hecks, and schelm ;||
Let envious Brudnal¶ her great friends abuse,
And little Titch** with lower scandal souse ;tt
"Tis no such rancour stimulates my soul,
I only ask to call a fool a fool:

No vice to give, no virtue to deny ;

* My German friends are not agreed as to the precise import of duchtich, which, however, from its use in vol. i. seems to mean sly. Teufflish is devilish-spiteful? I copy everywhere Lord Hervey's orthography.

+ Raccommoder here and before, vol. i., means to correct.

Betty Cotton was, probably, some subordinate gossip of the Queen family.

§ Fog's Journal and the Craftsman, opposition journals—the latter written under the pseudonyme of Caleb Danvers.

German terms of contempt and abuse-dog's-nose, lazy-bones, yawner, cheat, rogue.

¶ No doubt Susan Burton, one of the Bedchamber Women, wife of the Hon. James Brudenell, Master of the Jewel Office, and afterwards a Lord of Trade and Groom of the King's Bedchamber.

** Charlotte Amelia, daughter of Lord Molesworth, widow of the Hon. W. Titchburne, son of Lord Ferrard of Ireland, appointed Bedchamber Woman to the Princess in 1715.

tt Souse, to immerse in pickle-to overwhelm with abuse. When Lady M. W. Montagu was impertinently attacked at a masquerade, she says that she "had the temper not only to be silent herself, but she enjoined silence on one who was with her, and would have been very glad of an occasion of sousing her assailant."-Works, vol. ii.

I would no more than Lady Sundon lie;
And ne'er a present or an absent friend
Or basely will give up, or cool defend;
Not e'en my foes I would unhappy make;
To smile is all the liberty I'll take.

And freely thus, whilst I unpack my breast,
Where safer can the cargo be address'd

Than to my gracious Queen, who, angry, spares,
And, whilst she chides my faults, my folly bears?
Whose goodness ev'ry day and hour I prove,
And look upon, like heaven, with fear and love:
Whose mercy still, when I offend, I trust,
Owning the rules I swerve from to be just:
Whose sense I feel, whose merit I discern,
And wish to practise what I daily learn:
I wish my conduct to your maxims true,
Yet can't that conduct I approve pursue.

With gifts so rare Thee partial Heav'n has bless'd, Your rank is less uncommon than the rest;

With ev'ry good of nature or of art,
Or for the social or the Royal part;
Whatever dignifies or softens state;
In private amiable, in public great;
With all those qualities that recommend
The best companion or the kindest friend;
When serious, just; when gay, for ever new;
Quick in discernment, in reflection true;
All that the Greek or Roman sages thought-
What Plato, Socrates, or Tully wrote,
Philosophers or moralists have taught,
Drawn from the head, and dictated by art-
Was the prophetic picture of Thy heart;
By precept they, You by example teach,
And practise ev'ry virtue which they preach:
Whate'er the grave historian's page has shown-
Whate'er experience tells, to Thee is known-
The ancient and the modern world Thy own:
Whilst policy on maxims unrefin'd,*
To gentle sway and steady conduct join'd,
The mildest temper and the firmest mind,
Told to the distant, by the nearer seen,
Complete the woman, and adorn the Queen;

* So in MS., but I do not understand it; undefined would make a kind of sense.

A Queen whom most proclaim, and none disown,
An ornament and bulwark to her throne.

If, then, each morning with your converse fir'd,
(These talents ponder'd, and these gifts admir'd),
When all the trappings and constraint of pride,
For ease postpon'd, for pleasure thrown aside;
Your words no longer dictated by art;
Your mind unloaded, and unlock'd your heart;
When each Court-animal, from first to last,
Like those in Eden in review has pass'd,

And each-I won't say brute-receiv'd its name
According to the merits of its claim,

;

}

Or mischievously wild or dully tame:
Pursuant to the sketch such scenes afford,
If I their worth endeavour to record-
If from your presence afterward retir'd,
When, only pleased, I fancy I'm inspir'd,
And recollecting in my pensive walk,
Think I can write as I have heard you talk
So well the merit of Your style is known,
It can't seem strange, or strange to you alone,
When I would have mine please I choose your own.
May I not then, great Queen, your pardon claim?
Should any priest his own enthusiast blame?
Should those reproach the stroke who give the aim?
Or-cordials to a feeble brain applied-

Should those who made us drunk our transports chide?
No worse a canting parson Satan paints,
Who damns the devils he made for not being saints.
Oh! let me then describe, without control,

This idiot pon,* or t' other idiot troll ;

Some are so great, to name them is offence;
But mayn't I mention Mrs. Eighteen-Pence ?*
Or Privy Nasy† with his open mouth,
His eyes half shut, and at each corner froth?
When, grinning horrible a ghastly smile,
I hear him (snorting, belching, all the while)
Tell you that "two and two he's sure makes four ;
That fruit too ripe is flat, unripe is sour,”

*Troll is German for trollop; but I cannot explain the term pon, nor guess at Mrs. Eighteen-Pence. As Lady Suffolk had left the Court, I hardly think Lord Hervey would have introduced her again.

+ I suppose Lord Wilmington.