mother's virtues; but the panegyric commonly began, and always ended, in his repetition of her favourite maxim: "Get," said she, "my boy, get great acquaintances!" His mother, like Pope's*, was a poor feebleminded thing, unworthy anyone's care or esteem. Perhaps they are the mothers most regarded.

"Mr. Cromwell, of whom I have heard nothing particular but that he used to ride a-hunting in a tye-wig." (Vol. xi. p. 61.)- Wigs were at first tyed, on purpose that men should ride in them either o' hunting or in battle. The Duke of Marlbro' is represented by painters as winning all his battles in a tye-wig, and it was, I think, called a campaign wig. "Honest, hat-less Cromwell in red briches," Gay says.

(Vol. xi. p. 93.)- The French Recueils tell a similar tale of some sculptor and some cardinal, I forget who, that play'd the silly part of Halifax. The artist took home his work, having never touched it after the great man had shown his taste by his objections "And

now, my lord " (says he), "how do you find the statue ?” "Trovo!" replied the gull'd ecclesiastic, " che veramente gli avete data la vita."

"Being under the necessity of making a subterraneous passage to a garden, he (Pope) adorned it with fossil bodies, and dignified it with the title of a grotto." (Vol. xi. p. 100.) —- And he added the famous quibble of "What we cannot overcome we must undergo."

(Vol. xi. p. 101).—I went many years ago with friends

*The very highest tribute is paid to her virtues by Pope himself.

THE LEARNED DOG.

GARRICK AND RALPH.

155

to see le chien sçavant, who, when he play'd his trick prettily, his master encouraged by giving him bits of something out of his pocket. "Qu'est ce donc, Monsieur?" (says one of the company.) "Du Paté, Mademoiselle," replies the fellow. "Il mange pourtant comme un autre chien," exclaims another of our party. The people do just so by a great author, Pope or Johnson.

(Vol. xi. p. 103.) — When Johnson had finished his preface to Shakespear, Mr. Thrale said, "Oh, Sir, you have driven Pope quite into shade." "I fear not, Sir,” was our Doctor's reply; "the little fellow has done wonders!"

"At their last interview in the Tower, Atterbury presented Pope with a bible." (Vol. xi. p. 105.)- And there is a black story told of and thro' Lord Chesterfield concerning that present; but I think it loses ground now, 1817. It was once in every mouth and every publication.

(Vol. xi. p. 108.)- Ralph (one of the heroes of the Dunciad) outlived all, and was lodging near Garrick's house at Hampton, where he visited familiarly, but perhaps in somewhat of the style of a dependant; till one day Mr. Garrick was engaged in shewing his pleasure-grounds to a friend or two that he had detained to dine with him; and being perhaps thoughtless, or possibly unwilling to quit his company, he contented himself with calling the head-gardener, -"And, d'ye hear,” said he, "take a card, and go yourself directly and beg Mr. Ralph's company to dinner. Take a card, I say, and make haste." The man left us, and I suppose

we all forgot what had passed till somebody inquired at dinner where Mr. Ralph was. Lord, Sir! Mr. Ralph is very ill, very ill indeed." The gardener took a cart to fetch him, and he flung himself in such a passion, Dick thought he would have died. . . . How Garrick smoothed him up again I know not, but he came to Hampton as usual after that.

(James Horsdale, vol. xi. p. 118.) — He was a sad fellow, but very comical as a buffoon. He was the original Lady Pentweazle, and was employed as pimp and parasite, and everything, by Thrale and Murphy in their merry hours. His taking off the old Duchess of Marlborough, Sarah Jennings, was particularly hu

mourous.

(Vol. xi. p. 119.)—Mr. Rowe's [Letters] are read by women very much.

(Vol. xi. p. 122.) As my brother-in-law, Alderman Plumbe, who married Mr. Thrale's sister, read Shaftesbury's "Characteristics" on a Sunday, "it is" (says he) "all about virtue so, all uncommanded virtue . . and the librarian of Brera placed Tillotson and Shaftesbury together, I remember; for, tho' he was himself an infidel, he had the bitterness and bigotry of the religion he profess'd.

(Vol. xi. p. 127.) — This Johnson learn'd of Abbé Hook when we were in France together; yet I have my doubts. The Papists are all eager to save their poet from imputation of infidelity, and Johnson was very willing to see so great a poet saved.

(Vol. xi. p. 127.)- The estate (devised to Warburton

2

by Allen) is all gone now, I believe. Warburton left no children, and his widow married Mr. Stafford Smyth, who since her death married some mean woman and sold Prior Park. 1802.

(Mr. Southcot, vol. xi. p. 128.)- From whom descends either lineally, as a natural child, or collaterally, the now famous prophetess, Johanna Southcote. 1808.

The taste of a Ferme ornée descends likewise from Mr. Southcote. He was the first to enclose a field with a twisted walk and shrubbery ornamented with beautiful flowers. Mr. Southcote was Lady Vane's favourite S., mentioned in "Peregrine Pickle."

(Vol. xi. p. 132.) — And I recollect but very little vice in it (the "Characters of Women") though much caprice. But perhaps I still retain my old and odd curiosity; for when I saw Quin act Sir John Brute, and heard him call for a song that should be full (said he) of sin and impiety, I felt disappointed when the player sung a "Bumper, Squire Jones," in which I could discover no sin or impiety at all.

(Vol. xi. p. 145.) — Malherbe was, like him, (Pope) unwilling to call the priest; he was contented to receive him when he came "for," said he, "other people do send for a confessor; and I suppose God Almighty won't make a Paradise on purpose for poor Malherbe; so you may shew Monsieur L'Abbé in, if you please.”

(Vol. xi. p. 153.)- Costar, the French wit, says of such a character, that the pleasantest moments he ever

passed were not with men of the most fertile minds; and that the pleasantest walks he ever took were not in those countries which most excel in fruitfulness.

"Pope's revenue amounted only to about 800l. a year." (Vol. xi. p. 154.) —— A very good income in the year 1730, quite equal to 1500l. o' year now, in 1802, and less than that would enable a man to give his friends more than a pint of wine, surely, altho' it is not to be had this day for less than four shillings and sixpence the bottle.

"It would be hard to find a man so well entitled (as Pope) to notice by his wit, that ever delighted so much in talking of his money." (Vol. xi. p. 155.)- A man, never; a woman, yes,—it was Mrs. Montagu.

(Vol. xi. p. 161.) — An odd contempt for every study but that of poetry and metaphysics does certainly seem to run through all their (Swift's and Pope's) notions. Natural history is their perpetual scorn. . . . I guess not why. To wander thro' a wilderness of moss has at least this claim to preference, that something certain may be learned, however trifling. . . . Those who confound their readers with talking about time, and space, and matter, and motion, identity and infinity, spend time, and breath, and paper all in vain. They neither teach nor learn.--1802.

...

(Vol. xi. p. 169.)—This parallel (the famous one between Pope and Dryden) is imitated from the famous French one between Corneille and Racine; and that from an old classical comparison between the merits of