“I write at this moment from Hampton Lucy, in sight of the house and park of Sir Thomas Lucy, the great benefactor of mankind, who persecuted William Shakespeare for deer-stealing, and obliged him to take refuge in the metropolis. Montagu has just had a vomit, to carry off a certain quantity of punch, with the drinking of which he concluded the Sunday evening.
“Is that the right style for a letter?
“We are going to dine to-day at the house of
Mr Boot, a country farmer, with Dr Parr and a set of jolly fellows, to
commemorate the victory, or rather no-victory gained last week by the High
Sheriff of Warwick and the oppositionists over the Lord
| A SUNDAY AT OXFORD. | 249 |
“We slept the first night at Beaconsfield, the residence of Mr Burke, 23 miles. The town was full of soldiers. We rose the next morning, as well as to-day, a little after four. We drove about 20 miles to breakfast, and arrived at Oxford, 53 miles from town, about 12. Here we had a grand dinner prepared for us by letter, by a Mr Horseman, who says that you and I are the two greatest men in the world. He is very nervous, and thinks he never had a day’s health in his life. He intends to return the visit, and eat a good dinner in the Paragon, but he will find himself mistaken. We saw the buildings, an object that never impressed me with rapture, but we could not see the collection of paintings at Ch. Ch. Library, because it was Sunday. We saw however an altar-piece by Guido, Christ bearing the Cross, a picture I think of the highest excellence. Our escort, one of whom thinks himself an artist, were so ignorant as to tell us that a window to which we were introduced, painted by Jervas (as they said), from Reynolds, was infinitely superior. We had also a Mr Swan and his two wives, or sisters, to dinner, but they were no better than geese.
“And now, my dear love, what do you think of me? Do
you not find solitude infinitely superior to the company of a husband? Will you
give me leave to return to you again when I have finished my pilgrimage, and
discharged the penance of absence? Take care of yourself, my love, and take
care of Wil-
| 250 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“Tell Fanny something about me. Ask where she thinks I am. Say I am a great way, and going further and further, but that I shall turn round to come back again some day. Tell her I have not forgotten her little mug, and that I shall choose a very pretty one. Montagu said this morning about eight o’clock, upon the road, ‘Just now little Fanny is going to plungity-plunge.’ Was he right? I love him very much. He is in such a hurry to see his chère adorable, that I believe, after all, we shall set forward this evening and get to Etruria to-morrow.
“Farewell.”
