<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"></SPAN></p>
<h2> To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. </h2>
<h3> DEAR PHILLIPS, </h3>
<p>I send you this letter, franked by our old friend Barton; who is as much
altered as it was possible for a man of his kidney to be. Instead of the
careless, indolent sloven we knew at Oxford, I found him a busy talkative
politician; a petit-maitre in his dress, and a ceremonious courtier in his
manners. He has not gall enough in his constitution to be enflamed with
the rancour of party, so as to deal in scurrilous invectives; but, since
he obtained a place, he is become a warm partizan of the ministry, and
sees every thing through such an exaggerating medium, as to me, who am
happily of no party, is altogether incomprehensible—Without all
doubt, the fumes of faction not only disturb the faculty of reason, but
also pervert the organs of sense; and I would lay a hundred guineas to
ten, that if Barton on one side, and the most conscientious patriot in the
opposition on the other, were to draw, upon honour, the picture of the
k[ing] or m[inisters], you and I, who are still uninfected, and unbiased,
would find both painters equally distant from the truth. One thing,
however, must be allowed for the honour of Barton, he never breaks out
into illiberal abuse, far less endeavours, by infamous calumnies, to blast
the moral character of any individual on the other side.</p>
<p>Ever since we came hither, he has been remarkably assiduous in his
attention to our family; an attention, which, in a man of his indolence
and avocations, I should have thought altogether odd, and even unnatural,
had not I perceived that my sister Liddy had made some impression upon his
heart. I cannot say that I have any objection to his trying his fortune in
this pursuit: if an opulent estate and a great flock of good-nature are
sufficient qualifications in a husband, to render the marriage-state happy
for life, she may be happy with Barton; but, I imagine, there is something
else required to engage and secure the affection of a woman of sense and
delicacy: something which nature has denied our friend—Liddy seems
to be of the same opinion. When he addresses himself to her in discourse,
she seems to listen with reluctance, and industriously avoids all
particular communication; but in proportion to her coyness, our aunt is
coming. Mrs Tabitha goes more than half way to meet his advances; she
mistakes, or affects to mistake, the meaning of his courtesy, which is
rather formal and fulsome; she returns his compliments with hyperbolical
interest, she persecutes him with her civilities at table, she appeals to
him for ever in conversation, she sighs, and flirts, and ogles, and by her
hideous affectation and impertinence, drives the poor courtier to the very
extremity of his complaisance; in short, she seems to have undertaken the
siege of Barton's heart, and carries on her approaches in such a desperate
manner, that I don't know whether he will not be obliged to capitulate. In
the mean time, his aversion to this inamorata struggling with his acquired
affability, and his natural fear of giving offence, throws him into a kind
of distress which is extremely ridiculous.</p>
<p>Two days ago, he persuaded my uncle and me to accompany him to St James's,
where he undertook to make us acquainted with the persons of all the great
men in the kingdom; and, indeed, there was a great assemblage of
distinguished characters, for it was a high festival at court. Our
conductor performed his promise with great punctuality. He pointed out
almost every individual of both sexes, and generally introduced them to
our notice, with a flourish of panegyrick—Seeing the king approach,
'There comes (said he) the most amiable sovereign that ever swayed the
sceptre of England: the delicioe humani generis; Augustus, in patronizing
merit; Titus Vespasian in generosity; Trajan in beneficence; and Marcus
Aurelius in philosophy.' 'A very honest kind hearted gentleman (added my
uncle) he's too good for the times. A king of England should have a spice
of the devil in his composition.' Barton, then turning to the duke of
C[umberland], proceeded,—'You know the duke, that illustrious hero,
who trode rebellion under his feet, and secured us in possession of every
thing we ought to hold dear, as English men and Christians. Mark what an
eye, how penetrating, yet pacific! what dignity in his mien! what humanity
in his aspect—Even malice must own, that he is one of the greatest
officers in Christendom.' 'I think he is (said Mr Bramble) but who are
these young gentlemen that stand beside him?' 'Those! (cried our friend)
those are his royal nephews; the princes of the blood. Sweet young
princes! the sacred pledges of the Protestant line; so spirited, so
sensible, so princely'—'Yes; very sensible! very spirited! (said my
uncle, interrupting him) but see the queen! ha, there's the queen!—There's
the queen! let me see—Let me see—Where are my glasses? ha!
there's meaning in that eye—There's sentiment—There's
expression—Well, Mr Barton, what figure do you call next?' The next
person he pointed out, was the favourite yearl; who stood solitary by one
of the windows—'Behold yon northern star (said he) shorn of his
beams'—'What! the Caledonian luminary, that lately blazed so bright
in our hemisphere! methinks, at present, it glimmers through a fog; like
Saturn without his ring, bleak, and dim, and distant—Ha, there's the
other great phenomenon, the grand pensionary, that weathercock of
patriotism that veers about in every point of the political compass, and
still feels the wind of popularity in his tail. He too, like a portentous
comet, has risen again above the court-horizon; but how long he will
continue to ascend, it is not easy to foretell, considering his great
eccentricity—Who are those two satellites that attend his motions?'
When Barton told him their names, 'To their characters (said Mr Bramble) I
am no stranger. One of them, without a drop of red blood in his veins, has
a cold intoxicating vapour in his head; and rancour enough in his heart to
inoculate and affect a whole nation. The other is (I hear) intended for a
share in the ad[ministratio]n, and the pensionary vouches for his being
duly qualified—The only instance I ever heard of his sagacity, was
his deserting his former patron, when he found him declining in power, and
in disgrace with the people. Without principle, talent, or intelligence,
he is ungracious as a hog, greedy as a vulture, and thievish as a jackdaw;
but, it must be owned, he is no hypocrite. He pretends to no virtue, and
takes no pains to disguise his character—His ministry will be
attended with one advantage, no man will be disappointed by his breach of
promise, as no mortal ever trusted to his word. I wonder how lord—first
discovered this happy genius, and for what purpose lord—has now
adopted him: but one would think, that as amber has a power to attract
dirt, and straws, and chaff, a minister is endued with the same kind of
faculty, to lick up every knave and blockhead in his way'—His
eulogium was interrupted by the arrival of the old duke of N—; who,
squeezing into the circle with a busy face of importance, thrust his head
into every countenance, as if he had been in search of somebody, to whom
he wanted to impart something of great consequence—My uncle, who had
been formerly known to him, bowed as he passed; and the duke seeing
himself saluted so respectfully by a well-dressed person, was not slow in
returning the courtesy—He even came up, and, taking him cordially by
the hand, 'My dear friend, Mr A— (said he) I am rejoiced to see you—
How long have you been come from abroad?—How did you leave our good
friends the Dutch? The king of Prussia don't think of another war, ah?—He's
a great king! a great conqueror! a very great conqueror! Your Alexanders
and Hannibals were nothing, at all to him, sir—Corporals! drummers!
dross! mere trash—Damned trash, heh?'—His grace being by this
time out of breath, my uncle took the opportunity to tell him he had not
been out of England, that his name was Bramble, and that he had the honour
to sit in the last parliament but one of the late king, as representative
for the borough of Dymkymraig. 'Odso! (cried the duke) I remember you
perfectly well, my dear Mr Bramble—You was always a good and loyal
subject—a stanch friend to administration—I made your brother
an Irish bishop'—'Pardon me, my lord (said the squire) I once had a
brother, but he was a captain in the army'—'Ha! (said his grace) he
was so—He was, indeed! But who was the Bishop then! Bishop
Blackberry—Sure it was bishop Blackberry. Perhaps some relation of
yours'—'Very likely, my lord (replied my uncle); the Blackberry is
the fruit of the Bramble—But, I believe, the bishop is not a berry
of our bush'—'No more he is—No more he is, ha, ha, ha!
(exclaimed the duke) there you gave me a scratch, good Mr Bramble, ha, ha,
ha!—Well, I shall be glad to see you at Lincoln's inn-fields—You
know the way—Times are altered. Though I have lost the power, I
retain the inclination—Your very humble servant, good Mr Blackberry'—So
saying, he shoved to another corner of the room. 'What a fine old
gentleman! (cried Mr Barton) what spirits! what a memory! He never forgets
an old friend.' 'He does me too much honour (observed our squire) to rank
me among the number—Whilst I sat in parliament, I never voted with
the ministry but three times, when my conscience told me they were in the
right: however, if he still keeps levee, I will carry my nephew thither,
that he may see, and learn to avoid the scene; for, I think, an English
gentleman never appears to such disadvantage, as at the levee of a
minister—Of his grace I shall say nothing at present, but that for
thirty years he was the constant and common butt of ridicule and
execration. He was generally laughed at as an ape in politics, whose
office and influence served only to render his folly the more notorious;
and the opposition cursed him, as the indefatigable drudge of a
first-mover, who was justly stiled and stigmatized as the father of
corruption: but this ridiculous ape, this venal drudge, no sooner lost the
places he was so ill qualified to fill, and unfurled the banners of
faction, than he was metamorphosed into a pattern of public virtue; the
very people who reviled him before, now extolled him to the skies, as a
wise, experienced statesman, chief pillar of the Protestant succession,
and corner stone of English liberty. I should be glad to know how Mr
Barton reconciles these contradictions, without obliging us to resign all
title to the privilege of common sense.' 'My dear sir (answered Barton) I
don't pretend to justify the extravagations of the multitude; who, I
suppose, were as wild in their former censure, as in the present praise:
but I shall be very glad to attend you on Thursday next to his grace's
levee; where, I'm afraid, we shall not be crowded with company; for, you
know, there's a wide difference between his present office of president of
the council, and his former post of first lord commissioner of the
treasury.'</p>
<p>This communicative friend having announced all the remarkable characters
of both sexes, that appeared at court, we resolved to adjourn, and
retired. At the foot of the stair-case, there was a crowd of lacqueys and
chairmen, and in the midst of them stood Humphry Clinker, exalted upon a
stool, with his hat in one hand, and a paper in the other, in the act of
holding forth to the people—Before we could inquire into the meaning
of this exhibition, he perceived his master, thrust the paper into his
pocket, descended from his elevation, bolted through the crowd, and
brought up the carriage to the gate.</p>
<p>My uncle said nothing till we were seated, when, after having looked at me
earnestly for some time, he burst out a-laughing, and asked if I knew upon
what subject Clinker was holding forth to the mob—'If (said he) the
fellow is turned mountebank, I must turn him out of my service, otherwise
he'll make Merry Andrews of us all'—I observed, that, in all
probability, he had studied medicine under his master, who was a farrier.</p>
<p>At dinner, the squire asked him, if he had ever practised physic? 'Yes,
and please your honour (said he) among brute beasts; but I never meddle
with rational creatures.' 'I know not whether you rank in that class the
audience you was haranguing in the court at St. James's, but I should be
glad to know what kind of powders you was distributing; and whether you
had a good sale'—'Sale, sir! (cried Clinker) I hope I shall never be
base enough to sell for gold and silver, what freely comes of God's grace.
I distributed nothing, an like your honour, but a word of advice to my
fellows in servitude and sin.' 'Advice! concerning what?' 'Concerning
profane swearing, an please your honour; so horrid and shocking, that it
made my hair stand on end.' 'Nay, if thou can'st cure them Of that
disease, I shall think thee a wonderful doctor indeed' 'Why not cure them,
my good master? the hearts of those poor people are not so stubborn as
your honour seems to think—Make them first sensible that you have
nothing in view but their good, then they will listen with patience, and
easily be convinced of the sin and folly of a practice that affords
neither profit nor pleasure—At this remark, our uncle changed
colour, and looked round the company, conscious that his own withers were
not altogether unwrung. 'But, Clinker (said he) if you should have
eloquence enough to persuade the vulgar to resign those tropes and figures
of rhetoric, there will be little or nothing left to distinguish their
conversation from that of their betters.' 'But then your honour knows,
their conversation will be void of offence; and, at the day of judgment,
there will be no distinction of persons.'</p>
<p>Humphry going down stairs to fetch up a bottle of wine, my uncle
congratulated his sister upon having such a reformer in the family; when
Mrs Tabitha declared, he was a sober civilized fellow; very respectful,
and very industrious; and, she believed, a good Christian into the
bargain. One would think, Clinker must really have some very extraordinary
talent, to ingratiate himself in this manner with a virago of her
character, so fortified against him with prejudice and resentment; but the
truth is, since the adventure of Salt-hill, Mrs Tabby seems to be entirely
changed. She has left off scolding the servants, an exercise which was
grown habitual, and even seemed necessary to her constitution; and is
become so indifferent to Chowder, as to part with him in a present to lady
Griskin, who proposes to bring the breed of him into fashion. Her ladyship
is the widow of Sir Timothy Griskin, a distant relation of our family. She
enjoys a jointure of five hundred pounds a-year, and makes shift to spend
three times that sum. Her character before marriage was a little
equivocal; but at present she lives in the bon ton, keeps card-tables,
gives private suppers to select friends, and is visited by persons of the
first fashion—She has been remarkably civil to us all, and
cultivates my uncle with the most particular regard; but the more she
strokes him, the more his bristles seem to rise—To her compliments
he makes very laconic and dry returns—T'other day she sent us a
pottle of fine strawberries, which he did not receive without signs of
disgust, muttering from the Aeneid, timeo Danaos et Dona ferentes. She has
twice called for Liddy, of a forenoon, to take an airing in the coach; but
Mrs Tabby was always so alert (I suppose by his direction) that she never
could have the niece without her aunt's company. I have endeavoured to
sound Square-toes on this subject; but he carefully avoids all
explanation.</p>
<p>I have now, dear Phillips, filled a whole sheet, and if you have read it
to an end, I dare say, you are as tired as</p>
<p>Your humble servant, J. MELFORD LONDON, June 2.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.