Life And Letters Of John Gay (1685-1732) Part 9

Delany and His Excellency Lord Cartaret," he wrote in 1729:--

Thus Gay, the hare with many friends.

Twice seven long years the Court attends; Who, under tales conveying truth, To virtue form'd a princely youth; Who paid his courts.h.i.+p with the crowd, As far as modest pride allow'd; Rejects a servile usher's place, And leaves St. James's in disgrace.

Two years later he returned to the attack in "An Epistle to Mr. Gay ":--

How could you, Gay, disgrace the Muse's train, To serve a tasteless Court twelve years in vain!

Fain would I think our female friend sincere, Till Bob,[20] the poet's foe, possess'd her ear.

Did female virtue e'er so high ascend, To lose an inch of favour for a friend?

Say, had the Court no better place to choose For thee, than make a dry-nurse of thy Muse?

How cheaply had thy liberty been sold, To squire a royal girl of two years old: In leading strings her infant steps to guide, Or with her go-cart amble side by side!

It is a little difficult at this time of day to understand Swift's indignation. Gay was already in the enjoyment of a sinecure of 150 a year; he was offered another of 200 a year--for the post of Gentleman-Usher involved no duties save occasional attendance at Court, and to this the poet had shown himself by no means averse. A total gift of 350 a year for nothing really seems rather alluring to a man of letters, and it is difficult to understand why Gay refused the offer, unless it was, as the editors of the standard edition of Pope's Correspondence suggest: "The affluent friends who recommended Gay to reject the provisions were strangers to want, and with unconscious selfishness they thought less of his necessities than of venturing their spleen against the Court."

Swift, unable effectively to vent his anger on Caroline, chose to regard Mrs. Howard as the cause of the mortification of his friend. Mrs.

Howard, however, not only had nothing to do with the offer of the place of Gentleman-Usher to Gay, the patronage being directly in the Queen's hands, but, as has been indicated, was unable to secure for him, or anyone else, a place at Court of any description. Certainly she was in blissful ignorance of having given offence, for as Gay wrote to the Dean so late as February 15th, 1728: "Mrs. Howard frequently asks after you and desires her compliments to you."

All the matters affected not a whit the relations between Mrs. Howard and Gay; against her he had no ill-feeling, and their correspondence continued on the same lines of intimacy as before.

THE HON. MRS. HOWARD TO JOHN GAY.

October, 1727.

"I hear you expect, and have a mind to have, a letter from me, and though I have little to say, I find I don't care that you should be either disappointed or displeased. Tell her Grace of Queensberry I don't think she looked kindly upon me when I saw her last; she ought to have looked and thought very kindly, for I am much more her humble servant than those who tell her so every day. Don't let her cheat you in the pencils; she designs to give you nothing but her old ones. I suppose she always uses those worst who love her best, Mrs. Herbert excepted; but I hear she has done handsomely by her. I cannot help doing the woman this justice, that she can now and then distinguish merit.

"So much for her Grace; now for yourself, John. I desire you will mind the main chance, and be in town in time enough to let the opera[21] have play enough for its life, and for your pockets. Your head is your best friend; it could clothe, lodge and wash you, but you neglect it, and follow that false friend, your heart, which is such a foolish, tender thing that it makes others despise your head that have not half so good a one upon their own shoulders. In short, John, you may be a snail or a silk-worm, but by my consent you shall never be a _hare_ again.

"We go to town next week. Try your interest and bring the d.u.c.h.ess up by the birthday. I did not think to have named her any more in this letter.

I find I am a little foolish about her; don't you be a great deal so, for if _she_ will not come, do you come without her."

Gay was not the man to keep his feelings of disappointment to himself, and his feelings were so widely known that at the time the following copy of verses was handed about in ma.n.u.script [22]:--

A mother who vast pleasure finds, In forming of the children's minds; In midst of whom with vast delight, She pa.s.ses many a winter's night; Mingles in every play to find, What bias nature gives her mind; Resolving there to take her aim.

To guide them to the realms of fame; And wisely make those realms their way, To those of everlasting day; Each boist'rous pa.s.sion she'd control, And early humanise the soul, The n.o.blest notions would inspire, As they were sitting by the fire; Her offspring, conscious of her care, Transported hung around her chair.

Of Scripture heroes would she tell, Whose names they'd lisp, ere they could spell; Then the delighted mother smiles, And shews the story in the tiles.

At other times her themes would be, The sages of antiquity; Who left a glorious name behind, By being blessings to their kind: Again she'd take a n.o.bler scope, And tell of Addison and Pope.

This happy mother met one day, A book of fables writ by Gay; And told her children, here's treasure, A fund of wisdom, and of pleasure.

Such decency! such elegance!

Such morals! such exalted sense!

Well has the poet found the art, To raise the mind, and mend the heart.

Her favourite boy the author seiz'd, And as he read, seem'd highly pleas'd; Made such reflections every page, The mother thought above his age: Delighted read, but scarce was able, To finish the concluding fable.

"What ails my child?" the mother cries, "Whose sorrows now have fill'd your eyes?"

"Oh, dear Mamma, can he want friends Who writes for such exalted ends?

Oh, base, degenerate human kind!

Had I a fortune to my mind, Should Gay complain; but now, alas!

Through what a world am I to pa.s.s; Where friends.h.i.+p's but an empty name, And merit's scarcely paid in fame."

Resolv'd to lull his woes to rest.

She told him he should hope the best; That who instruct the royal race.

Can't fail of some distinguished place.

"Mamma, if you were queen," says he, "And such a book was writ for me; I know 'tis so much to your taste, That Gay would keep his coach at least."

"My child, what you suppose is true, I see its excellence in you; Poets whose writing mend the mind, A n.o.ble recompense should find: But I am barr'd by fortune's frowns.

From the best privilege of crowns; The glorious G.o.dlike power to bless, And raise up merit in distress."

"But, dear Mamma, I long to know.

Were that the case, what you'd bestow?"

"What I'd bestow," says she, "My dear, At least five hundred pounds a year."

[Footnote 1: Johnson: _Lives of the Poets_ (ed. Hill), III, p. 274.]

[Footnote 2: Letter to Broome, January 30th, 1724 (Pope: _Works_ (ed.

Elwin and Courthope, VIII, p. 75.))]

[Footnote 3: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVII, p. 6.]

[Footnote 4: _Ibid_., XVII, p. 8.]

[Footnote 5: William Augustus (1721-1765), third son of George III; created Duke of c.u.mberland, 1726.]

[Footnote 6: Ambrose Philips, the poet.]

[Footnote 7: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVI, 389.]

[Footnote 8: _Ibid_., XIX. p. 283.]

[Footnote 9: _Ibid_., XVII, p. 99.]

[Footnote 10: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVII, p. 94.]

[Footnote 11: To Amesbury, the princ.i.p.al seat of the Duke of Queensberry.]

[Footnote 12: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVII, p. 66.]

[Footnote 13: _Ibid_., XVII, p. 81.]

[Footnote 14: _Ibid_., XVII, p. 96.]

[Footnote 15: Louisa (1724-1751), the youngest of George II's children.

She married in 1743, Frederick, Prince (afterwards King) of Denmark,]

[Footnote 16: Johnson: _Lives of the Poets_ (ed. Hill), III, p. 274.]

[Footnote 17: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVIII, p. 42.]