fident the author was incapable of imputing any fuch to one, whose whole life (to ufe his own expreffion in print of him) is a continued feries of good and generous

actions.

he

I know no man who would be more concerned, if

gave the leaft pain or offence to any innocent perfop; and none who would be lefs concerned, if the fatire were challenged by any one at whom he would really aim it. If ever that happens, I dare engage, he will own it, with all the freedom of one whofe cenfures are juft, and who fets his name to them.

LETTER XXVI.

To the Earl of BURLINGTON.

MY LORD,

March 7. 1731.

HE clamour rais'd about my Epistle to you,

THE

could not give me fo much pain, as I receiv'd pleasure in seeing the general zeal of the world in the cause of a Great man who is beneficent, and the particular warmth of your Lordship in that of a private man who is innocent.

It was not the Poem that deferv'd this from you; for as I had the honour to be your Friend, I could not treat you quite like a Poet: but fure the writer deferv'd more candor, even from those who knew him not, than to promote a report, which in regard to that noble perfon, was impertinent; in regard to me, villainous. Yet I had no great caufe to wonder, that a character belonging to twenty fhould be applied to

one; fince, by that means, nineteen would efcape the ridicule.

I was too well content with my knowledge of that noble perfon's opinion in this affair, to trouble the public about it. But fince Malice and Mistake are fo long a dying, I have taken the opportunity of a third edition to declare his belief, not only of my innocence, but of their malignity; of the former of which my own heart is as confcious, as, I fear, fome of theirs must be of the latter. His humanity feels concern for the injury done to me, while his greatness of mind can bear with indifference the infult offer'd to himfelf*.

However, my Lord, I own, that critics of this fort can intimidate me, nay half iacline me to write no more: That would be making the Town a compliment which, I think, it deferves; and which fome, I am fure, would take very kindly. This way of Satire is dangerous, as long as flander rais'd by fools of the loweft rank, can find any countenance from those of a higher. Even from the conduct shewn on this occafion, I have learnt there are some who would rather be wicked than ridiculous; and therefore it may be fafer to attack Vices than Follies. I will therefore leave my betters in the quiet poffeffion of their Idols, their Groves, and their High-places; and change my fubject from their pride to their meannefs, from their vanities to their miseries: and as the only certain way

*Alludes to the letter the Duke of Ch" wrote to Mr Pope on this occafion.

to avoid mif-constructions, to leffen offence, and not to multiply ill-natured applications, I may probably, in my next, make use of real names instead of fictitious ones. I am,

My Lord,

Your most affectionate, &c.

LETTER XXVII *.

IT

Cirencester.

T is a true faying, that misfortunes alone prove one's friendships; they how us not only that of other people for us, but our own for them. We hardly know ourselves any otherwife. I feel my being forced to this Bath-journey as a misfortune; and to follow my own welfare preferably to thofe I love, is indeed a new thing to me: my health has not usually got the better of my tenderneffes and affections. I fet out with a heavy heart, wifhing I had done this thing the last feafon; for every day I defer it, the more I am in danger of that accident which I dread the most, my Mother's death (especially should it happen while I am away.) And another Reflection pains me, that I have never, fince I knew you, been so long separated from you, as I now muft be. Methinks we live to be more and more ftrangers, and every year teaches you to live without me: This abfence may, I fear, make my return less welcome and le's wanted to you, than once it feem'd, even after but a fortnight. Time ought not in reafon to diminish friendship, when it confirms the truth of it by experience.

* To Mrs B.

The journey has a good deal diforder'd me, notwithftanding my refting place at Lord Bathurst's. My Lord is too much for me, he walks, and is in fpirits all day along: I rejoice to see him fo. It is a right diftinction, that I am happier in feeing my friends fo many degrees above me, be it in fortune, health, or pleasures, than I can be in sharing either with them: for in these fort of enjoyments I cannot keep pace with them, any more than I can walk with a stronger man. I wonder to find I am a companion for none but old men, and forget that I am not a young fellow myself. The worst is, that reading and writing, which I have ftill the greatest relifh for, are growing painful to my

eyes,

But if I can preserve the good opinion of one or two friends, to fuch a degree, as to have their indulgence to my weakneffes, I will not complain of life. And if I could live to fee you confult your eafe and quiet, by becoming independent on those who will never help you to either, I doubt not of finding the latter part of my life pleasanter than the former, or prefent. My uneafinefs of body I can bear; my chief uneafiness of mind is in your regard. You have a temper that would make you easy and beloved (which is all the happiness one needs to wish in this world) and content with moderate things. All your point is not to lose that temper by facrificing yourself to others, out of a mistaken tenderness, which hurts you, and profits not them. And this you must do foon, or it will be too late: make it as hard for you to live independent, as for L

Habit will

to live out of a Court.

2

You must excuse me for observing what I think any defect in you: You grow too indolent, and give things up too easily which would be otherwife, when you found and felt yourself your own: Spirits would come in, as ill ufage went out. While you live under a kind of perpetual dejection and oppreffion, nothing at all belongs to you, not your own Humour, nor your own Senfe.

You can't conceive how much you would find refolution rise, and chearfulness grow upon you, if you'd once try to live independent for two or three months. I never think tenderly of you but this comes across me, and therefore excuse my repeating it; for whene ver I do not, I diffemble half that I think of you: Adieu, pray write, and be particular about your health.

YOU

LETTER XXVIII *.

OUR letter, dated at nine o'clock on Tuesday (night, as I fuppofe) has funk me quite. Yefterday I hoped; and yesterday I fent you a line or two for our poor Friend Gay, inclos'd in a few words to you; about twelve or one o'clock you should have had it. I am troubled about that, tho' the prefent cause of our trouble be so much greater †. Indeed I want a friend, to help me to bear it better. We want each other. I bear a hearty share with Mrs Howard, *To the fame.

+ Mr Gay's death, which happen'd in Nov. 1732, at the Duke of Queensberry's house in London, aged 46.