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This letter is part of the correspondence calendar of the complete correspondence of Thomas Gray. The calendar contains detailed bibliographic records for all known original, copied, or published letters written by or to the poet as well as the full-text, where available. Each record is accompanied by digitised images of the manuscript, where available, or digitised images of the first printed edition.
Res est sacra miser (says the Poet) but I say, it is the happy Man, that is
the sacred thing; & therefore let the Profane keep their distance: he is one of Lucretius' Gods, supremely blest in the
contemplation of his own felicity, & what has he to do with Worshippers? this (mind) is the first reason, why I did not come to
York. the second is, that I do not love confinement, & probably by next summer may be permitted to touch
whom & where & with what I think fit without giving you any offence. the third & last,
& not the least perhaps, is, that the finances were at so low an ebb, that I could not exactly do what I wish'd, but was obliged to
come the shortest road to Town & recruit them. I do not justly know what your taste in reasons may be, since you alter'd your
condition; but there is the ingenious, the petulant, & the dull, for you. any one would have done, for in my conscience I do not
believe you care a half-penny for reasons at present. so God bless ye both, & give ye all ye wish, when ye are restored to the use
of your wishes!
I am return'd from Scotland charm'd with my expedition: it is of the Highlands I speak: the Lowlands are worth seeing once, but the Mountains are extatic, & ought to be visited in pilgrimage once a year. none but those monstrous creatures of God know how to join so much beauty with so much horror. a fig for your Poets, Painters, Gardiners, & Clergymen, that have not been among them: their imagination can be made up of nothing but bowling-greens, flowering shrubs, horse-ponds, Fleet-ditches, shell-grottoes, & Chinée-rails. then I had so beautiful an autumn: Italy could hardly produce a nobler scene, or a finer season. and this so sweetly contrasted with that perfection of nastiness, & total want of accommodation, that Scotland only can supply. oh! you would have bless'd yourself. I shall certainly go again. what a pity 'tis I can't draw, nor describe, nor ride on horseback!
St:r is the busiest creature upon earth, except Mr Fraser: they stand pretty tight for all his Royal Highness. have you read (oh no! I had forgot) Dr Lowth's pamphlet against your Uncle the Bishop? oh how he works him! I hear he will soon be on the same bench. today Mr Hurd came to see me, but we had not a word of that matter: he is grown pure & plump, just of the proper breadth for a celebrated Town-Preacher. there was Dr Balguy too: he says, Mrs Mason is very handsome; so you are his Friend for ever. Ld Newnham (I hear) has ill health of late: it is a nervous case. & have a care! how do your eyes do? the hereditary Prince the morning after he was married, I remember, said to somebody, Sauf le respect que je dois a son Altesse Royale, jamais Princesse n'a eté mieux f—e. can you in conscience mutatis mutandis say the same? I know any body can & will say the same: but can you say it verbo Sacerdotis? Adieu! my respects to the Bride. I would kiss her, but you stand by & pretend, it is not the fashion: tho' I know, they do so at Hull.