1730
CORRESPONDENCE
There are few or no details to be discovered about Gay at this time,
except such deductions as can be drawn from his correspondence.
JOHN GAY TO DEAN SWIFT.
London, March 3rd, 1730.
"I am going very soon into Wiltshire with the Duke of Queensberry. Since
I had that severe fit of sickness, I find my health requires it; for I
cannot bear the town as I could formerly. I hope another summer's air
and exercise will reinstate me. I continue to drink nothing but water,
so that you cannot require any poetry from me. I have been very seldom
abroad since I came to town, and not once at Court. This is no restraint
upon me, for I am grown old enough to wish for retirement....
"I have left off all great folks but our own family; perhaps you will
think all great folks little enough to leave off us, in our present
situation. I do not hate the world, but I laugh at it; for none but
fools can be in earnest about a trifle."[1]
* * * * *
Earlier in the year Gay had revised his earliest play "The Wife of
Bath," which had been produced unsuccessfully at Drury Lane Theatre on
May 12th, 1713, and the new version was staged on January 19 of this
year at the theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields. "My old vamped play has
got me no money, for it had no success," the author wrote to Swift in
the letter of March 3rd; to which Swift replied from Dublin sixteen days
later: "I had never much hopes of your vamped play, although Mr. Pope
seemed to have, and although it were ever so good; but you should have
done like the parsons, and changed your text--I mean, the title, and the
names of the persons. After all, it was an effect of idleness, for you
are in the prime of life, when invention and judgment go together."
JOHN GAY TO DEAN SWIFT.
March 31st, 1730.
"I expect, in about a fortnight, to set out for Wiltshire.... My
ambition, at present, is levelled to the same point that you direct me
to; for I am every day building villakins, and have given over that of
castles. If I were to undertake it in my present circumstances, I
should, on the most thrifty scheme, soon be straightened; and I hate to
be in debt; for I cannot bear to pawn five pounds' worth of my liberty
to a tailor or a butcher. I grant you this is not having the true spirit
of modern nobility, but it is hard to cure the prejudice of education.
"I have been extremely taken up of late in settling a steward's account.
I am endeavouring to do all the justice and service I can for a friend,
so I am sure you will think I am well employed."[2]
* * * * *
From this letter it will be seen that Gay was endeavouring to make some
return to his host and hostess for their kindness in looking after him
by acting as a private secretary to the Duchess. But it may be taken for
granted that his duties were merely nominal, and it may equally be taken
for granted that his assistance was of little value, and only accepted
nominally in order to lessen the weight of the obligation under which
they thought--probably erroneously--he might be suffering. Why Gay
should have led a life of dependence unless he liked it, it is not easy
to see, for when he died about thirty months later, he left the then not
inconsiderable sum of £6,000. Gay, who never did to-day what could by
any possibility be postponed, neglected, of course, to make a will. As
he died intestate, his fortune was divided between his surviving
sisters, Katherine Bailer and Joanna Fortescue.
Gay until the end kept up his correspondence with Mrs. Howard, and his
letters to her are often delightful reading, especially when he had
nothing in particular to say, or when he was able to poke kindly fun at
his hostess and protectress.
JOHN GAY TO THE HON. MRS. HOWARD.
May 9th, 1730.
"It is what the Duchess never would tell me--so that it is impossible
for me to tell you--_how she does_: but I cannot take it ill, for I
really believe it is what she never really and truly did to anybody in
her life. As I am no physician and cannot do her any good, one would
wonder how she could refuse to answer this question out of common
civility; but she is a professed hater of common civility, and so I am
determined never to ask her again. If you have a mind to know what she
hath done since she came here, the most material things that I know of
is, that she hath worked a rose, and milked a cow, and those two things
I assure you are of more consequence, I verily believe, than hath been
done by anybody else.
"Mrs. Herbert was very angry with her Grace the night before she left
the town, that she could part with her friends with such an indecent
cheerfulness; she wishes she had seen you at the same time, that she
might have known whether she could have carried this happy indifference
through, or no. She is grown a great admirer of two characters in
Prior's poems, that of "Sauntering Jack and Idle Joan"[3]; and she
thinks them persons worthy imitation: at this very instant she herself
is in their way. She had a mind to write to you, but cannot prevail with
herself to set about it; she is now thinking of Mrs. Herbert, but is too
indolent to tell me to make her compliments to her. Just this minute she
is wishing you were in this very room; but she will not give herself the
trouble to say so to me: all that I know of it is, she looks all this,
for she knows I am writing to you.
"There is, indeed, a very good reason for her present indolence, for she
is looking upon a book which she seems to be reading; but I believe the
same page hath lain open before her ever since I began this letter. Just
this moment she hath uttered these words: 'that she will take it as a
very great favour if you will speak to Mrs. Herbert to speak to Lord
Herbert, that he would speak to anybody who may chance to go by Mr.
Nix's house, to call upon him to hasten his sending the piece of
furniture, which, perhaps as soon as she receives it, may tempt her to
write to somebody or other that very little expects it';--for she loves
to do things by surprise. She would take it kindly if you write to her
against this thing comes here; for I verily believe she will try whether
or no it be convenient for writing, and perhaps she may make the trial
to you; she did not bid me say this, but as she talks of you often, I
think you have a fair chance.
"As soon as you are settled at Marble Hill, I beg you will take the
widow's house for me, and persuade the Duchess to come to Petersham.
But, wherever you are, at present I can only wish to be with you: do
what you can for me, and let me hear from you till the Duchess writes
to you. You may write to me, and if you express any resentment against
her for not writing, I will let her know it in what manner you shall
please to direct me."
JOHN GAY TO DEAN SWIFT.
Amesbury, July 4th, 1730.
"I have left off wine and writing; for I really think, that man must be
a bold writer, who trusts to wit without it.
"I took your advice; and some time ago took to love, and made some
advances to the lady you sent me to in Soho, but met no return; so I
have given up all thoughts of it, and have now no pursuit or amusement.
"A state of indolence is what I do not like; it is what I would not
choose. I am not thinking of a Court or preferment, for I think the lady
I live with is my friend, so that I am at the height of my ambition. You
have often told me there is a time of life that every one wishes for
some settlement of his own. I have frequently that feeling about me, but
I fancy it will hardly ever be my lot: so that I will endeavour to pass
away life as agreeably as I can, in the way I am. I often wish to be
with you, or you with me; and I believe you think I say true."[4]
ALEXANDER POPE TO JOHN GAY.
Twickenham, July 21st, 1730.
"If you consider this letter splenetic, consider I have just received
the news of the death of a friend, whom I esteemed almost as many years
as you--poor Fenton. He died at Easthampstead, of indolence and
inactivity; let it not be your fate, but use exercise. I hope the
Duchess [of Queensberry] will take care of you in this respect, and
either make you gallop after her, or tease you enough at home to serve
instead of exercise abroad.
"Mrs. Howard is so concerned about you, and so angry at me for not
writing to you, and at Mrs. Blount for not doing the same, that I am
piqued with jealousy and envy at you, and hate you as much as if you had
a place at Court, which you will confess a proper cause of envy and
hatred, in any poet, militant or unpensioned."
JOHN GAY AND THE DUCHESS OF QUEENSBERRY TO THE HON. MRS. HOWARD.
Amesbury, August 20th, 1730.
"The Duchess says she cannot say a word more, if I would give her the
world, and that her misery hath got the better of her pleasure in
writing to you. She thanks you for your information, and says, that if
she can bear herself, or think that anybody else can, she intends to
make her visit next week. Now, it is my opinion that she need never have
any scruples of this kind; but as to herself, you know she hath often an
unaccountable way of thinking, and, say what you will to her, she will
now and then hear you, but she will always think and act for herself. I
have been waiting three or four minutes for what she hath to say, and at
last she tells me she cannot speak one word more, and at the same time
is so very unreasonable as to desire you would write her a long letter,
as she knows you love it.
"I have several complaints to make to you of her treatment, but I shall
only mention the most barbarous of them. She hath absolutely forbid her
dog to be fond of me, and takes all occasions to snub her if she shows
me the least civility. How do you think Lord Herbert would take such
usage from you, or any lady in Christendom?
"Now she says I must write you a long letter; but to be sure I cannot
say what I would about her, because she is looking over me as I write.
If I should tell any good of her, I know she would not like it, and I
have said my worst of her already."
J.G.
"Do not think I am lazy, and so have framed an excuse, for I am really
in pain (at some moments intolerable since this was begun). I think
often I could be mighty glad to see you; and though you deserve vastly,
that is saying much from me (for I can bear to be alone) and upon all
accounts think I am much better here than anywhere else. I think to go
on and prosper mighty prettily here, and like the habitation so well
(that if I could in nature otherwise be forgetful) that would put me in
mind of what I owe to those who helped me on to where I wished to be
sooner than I feared I could be. Pray tell Miss Meadows that I was in
hopes she would have made a dutiful visit to her father. If anyone else
care for my respects, they may accept of them. I will present them to
Lord Herbert, whether he care or not. I hope by this time he is able to
carry himself and Fop wherever he pleases. If I had the same power over
you I would not write you word that I am yours, etc.; but since I can
only write, believe that I am to you everything that you have ever read
at the bottom of a letter, but not that I am so only by way of
conclusion."
C.Q.
JOHN GAY AND THE DUCHESS OF QUEENSBERRY TO THE HON. MRS. HOWARD.
[Amesbury] Saturday, September, 1730.
"I cannot neglect this opportunity of writing to you and begging you to
be a mediator between my lady duchess and me; we having at present a
quarrel about a fishing rod; and at the same time to give her your
opinion whether you think it proper for her to stay here till after
Christmas, for I find that neither place nor preferment will let me
leave her; and when she hath been long enough in one place, prevail with
her, if you can, to go to another. I would always have her do what she
will, because I am glad to be of her opinion, and because I know it is
what I must always do myself."
J.G.
"To follow one's fancy is by much the best medicine; it has quite cured
my face and left me no pain but the impossibility of being in two places
at once, which is no small sorrow, since one of them would be near you.
But the boys [Lord Drumlanrig and Lord Charles Douglas] are too lean to
travel as yet. Compassion being the predominant fashion of the place, we
are preserved alive with as much care as the partridges, which no one
yet has had the heart to kill, though several barbarous attempts have
been made. If I could write I would for ever, but my pen is so much your
friend that it will only let me tell you that I am extremely so.
"I pray it may not be difficult for my dear Mrs. Howard to forgive, as
to read this provocation. By the next I hope to write plain."
C.Q.
ALEXANDER POPE TO JOHN GAY.
October, 1730.
"I continue, and ever shall, to wish you all good and happiness. I wish
that some lucky event might set you in a state of ease and independency
all at once, and that I might live to see you as happy as this silly
world and fortune can make anyone. Are we never to live together more as
once we did?"
THE HON. MRS. HOWARD TO JOHN GAY.
October 3rd, 1730.
"I hear you have had a house full of courtiers, and, what is more
extraordinary, they were honest people; but I will take care, agreeably
to your desire, that you shall not increase the number. I wish I could
as easily gratify you in your other request about a certain person [the
Duchess of Queensberry]'s health; but, indeed, John, that is not in my
power. I have often thought it proceeds from thinking better of herself
than she does of anybody else; for she has always confidence to inquire
after those she calls friends, and enough assurance to give them
advice; at the same time, she will not answer a civil question about
herself, and would certainly never follow any advice that was given her:
you plainly see she neither thinks well of their heart or their head. I
believe I have told you as much before; but a settled opinion of
anything will naturally lead one into the same manner of expressing
one's thoughts."
DEAN SWIFT TO JOHN GAY.
Dublin, November 10th, 1730.
"I hope you have now one advantage that you always wanted before, and
the want of which made your friends as uneasy as it did yourself; I mean
the removal of that solicitude about your own affairs, which perpetually
filled your thoughts and disturbed your conversation. For if it be true,
what Mr. Pope seriously tells me, you will have opportunity of saving
every groat of the interest you receive; and so, by the time you and he
grow weary of each other, you will be able to pass the rest of your
wineless life in ease and plenty; with the additional triumphal comfort
of never having received a penny from those tasteless, ungrateful people
from which you deserved so much, and which deserve no better geniuses
than those by whom they are celebrated."[5]
JOHN GAY TO DEAN SWIFT.
Amesbury, December 6th, 1730.
"The Duchess is a more severe check upon my finances than ever you were;
and I submit, as I did to you, to comply to my own good. I was a long
time before I could prevail with her to let me allow myself a pair of
shoes with two heels; for I had lost one, and the shoes were so decayed
that they were not worth mending. You see by this that those who are the
most generous of their own, can be the most covetous for others. I hope
you will be so good to me as to use your interest with her (for what
ever she says, you seem to have some) to indulge me with the
extravagance suitable to my fortune."[6]
DUCHESS OF QUEENSBERRY AND JOHN GAY TO THE HON. MRS. HOWARD.
December 17th [1730].
"You cannot imagine in what due time your letter came; for I had given
you up, and with great pains had very near brought our friend Mr. Gay to
own that nobody cared for us, and a few more thoughts which shall now be
nameless. I am sincerely sorry that you have been ill, and very very
glad that you are better and think of life; for I know none whom one
could more wish to have life than yourself. I do not in the least
approve of your changing your way of thinking of me, for I was convinced
it was a good one, and when such opinions change, it is seldom for the
better; if it could on my account, I declare you would be in the wrong,
for to my knowledge I improve in no one thing. The best thing I can say
for myself is, that I feel no alteration in the regard and inclination I
have to you. I have no comprehension of what I said in my letter; but at
that time my body was distempered, and very likely my mind also.... I
know nothing of coming to town; I only know that when I do I shall not
be sorry to see you; and this is knowing a great deal; for I shall not
be glad to come, and shall only come if it be unavoidable: this is the
blunt truth. I own it would look less like indifference if I had written
some civil lie."
C.Q.
"Everything that is above written is so plain and clear that it needs no
comment; the writer I know to be so strictly addicted to truth, that I
believe every word of it; if it is not written in the fashionable
expression, I conclude you will impute it to her manner. She was really
concerned very much, that, after she knew you were ill, we were so long
before we could get a letter from you: let her contradict this if she
can. You tell her you are riding for your life; I fancy she would do it
for yours, though she will not for her own. I believe that she will not
like that I should say anything more about her; so that I shall leave
you to your own thoughts about what she hath said herself; for I find
she doth not much care to be talked to, and as little likes to be talked
of: if she writes truth, I hope she will allow me the liberty to do the
same.... I have sometimes a great mind to answer the above letter, but I
know she will do what she will; and as little as she likes herself, she
likes her own advice better than anybody's else, and that is a reason,
in my opinion, that should prevail with her to take more care of
herself. I just before said I would say no more upon this subject; but
if I do not lay down the pen, I find I cannot help it. I have no desire
to come to town at all; for if I were there I cannot see you; so that
unless she turns me away I am fixed for life at Amesbury: so that, as to
everything that relates to me, I refer you to her letters."
J.G.
[Footnote 1: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVII, p. 292.]
[Footnote 2: 'Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVII, p. 295.]
[Footnote 3:
Neither good nor bad, nor fool nor wise,
They would not learn nor could advise;
Without love, hatred, joy, or fear,
They led a kind of--as it were;
Nor wish'd nor cared, nor laugh'd nor cried:
And so they lived, and so they died.]
[Footnote 4: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVII, p. 308.]
[Footnote 5: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVII, p. 319.]
[Footnote 6: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVII, p. 333]