LETTER XV. An invitation to Twickenham: The vanity and emptiness of the world. XVI. From the Bishop of Rochester. An answer to the former. His diflike of great men: Preparation for his burial place in Westminster-Abbey. XVII. From the fame, on the fame fubject. The ftate of his mind and the world's mistake of his character. XVIII. From the fame. More concerning men of quality. Of Milton's manuscript, and Agoni ftes. XIX. The Duke of Marlborough's funeral. The author's refolution to keep clear of flattery. XX. From the Bishop. Answer to the former. Ap- XXI. From the Bishop of Rochester in the Tower. XXIII. The author's last letter to the Bishop of Ro chefter. XXVI. From the Bishop of Rochester. XXV. On the death of his daughter. LETTER S OF MR POPE, AND Several of his FRIENDS. Quo Defiderio veteres revocamus Amores. CATULL. VOL. V. A Binfield in Windfor Foreft, Dec. 26. 1704*. T was certainly a great fatisfaction to me to fee and converse with a man, whom in his writings I had fo long known with pleasure: but it was a high addition to it, to hear you, at our very first meeting, doing juftice to your dead friend Mr Dryden. I was not fo happy as to know him: Virgilium tantum vidi. Had I been born early enough, I must have known and lov'd him: For I have been affured, not only by yourself, but by Mr Congreve and Sir William Trumbul, that his perfonal qualities were as amiable as his Poetical, notwithstanding the inany libellous mifreprefentations of them, against which the former of thefe Gentlemen has told me he will one day vindicate him. I fuppofe thofe injuries were begun by the violence of Party,. but 'tis no doubt *The Author's Age then fixteen. they were continued by envy at his fuccefs and fame. And thofe Scriblers who attacked him in his latter times, were only like gnats in a fummer's evening, which are never very troublesome, but in the finest and moft glorious feafon; for his fire, like the fun's, fhined clearest towards its fetting. I You must not therefore imagine, that, when you told me my own performances were above thofe Critics, I was fo vain as to believe it; and yet I may not be fo humble as to think myself quite below their notice. For critics, as they are birds of prey, have ever a natural inclination to carrion: and tho' fuch poor writers as I, are but beggars, no beggar is so poor but he can keep a cur, and no author is fo beggarly but he can keep a critic. I am far from thinking the attacks of fuch people either any honour or dishonour even to me, much less to Mr Dryden. agree with you, that whatever leffer wits have rifen fince his death, are but like ftars appearing when the fun is fet, that twinkle only in his abfence, and with the rays they have borrowed from him. wit (as you call it) is but reflection or imitation, therefore fcarce to be called ours. True Wit, I be lieve, may be defined a juftnéfs of thought, and a facility of expreffion; or (in the midwife's phrafe) a perfect conception, with an eafy delivery. However, this is far from a complete definition; pray, help me to a better, as, I doubt not, you can. Our 1 am, &c. |