expect it of me to perfevere till death, in every sentiment or notion I now fet down, than you would imagine a man's face fhould never change when once his picture was drawn.

The freedom I fhall ufe in this manner of thinking aloud, may indeed prove me a fool; but it will prove me one of the best fort of fools, the honeft ones. And fince what folly we have, will infallibly buoy up at one time or other in fpite of all our art to keep it down; methinks, 'tis almost foolish to take any pains to conceal it at all, and almost knavish to do it from those that are our friends. If Momus's project had taken, of having windows in our breafts, I fhould be for carrying it further, and making those windows cafements; that while a man fhowed his heart to all the world, he might do fomething more for his friends; even give it them, and truft it to their handling. I think I love you as well as King Herod did Herodias, (though I never had fo much as one dance with you,) and would as freely give you my heart in a difh, as he did another's head. But fince Jupiter will not have it fo, I must be content to fhew my tafte in life, as I do my taste in painting, by loving to have as little drapery as poffible. Not that I think every body naked altogether fo fine a fight, as yourself and a few more would be, but becaufe 'tis good to use people to what they must be acquainted with: and there will certainly come fome day of judgment or other, to uncover every foul of us. We fhall then fee that the 8

1

prudes

prudes of this world owed all their fine figure only to their being ftraiter-laced than the reft; and that they are naturally as arrant fquabs as those that went more loofe, nay as those that never girded their loins at all. But a particular reafon that may engage you to write your thoughts the more freely to me, is, that I am confident no one knows you better; for I find, when others exprefs their thoughts of you, they fall fhort of mine, and, I know, at the fame time, theirs are fuch as you would think fufficiently in your favour.

very

You may eafily imagine how defirous I must be of a correfpondence with a perfon, who had taught me long ago that it was as poffible to efteem at first fight*, as to love: and who has fince ruined me for all the converfation of one fex, and almost all the friendship of the other. I am but too fenfible, through your means, that the company of men wants a certain foftness to recommend it, and that of women wants every thing else. How often have I been quietly going to take poffeffion of that tranquillity and indolence I had fo long found in the Country; when one evening of your conversation has spoiled me for a Solitaire! Books have loft their effect upon me, and I was convinced fince I faw you, that there is one alive wiser than all the fages. A plague of female wisdom! it makes a man ten times more uneasy than his own. What is very strange, Virtue herself (when you have the dreff

* See Note at the beginning,

ing

had

ing her) is too amiable for one's repofe. You might have done a world of good in your time, if you allowed half the fine gentlemen who have feen you, to have converfed with you; they would have been ftrangely bit, while they thought only to fall in love with a fair lady, and you had bewitched them with Reason and Virtue (two beauties that the very fops pretend to no acquaintance with).

The unhappy distance at which we correspond *, removes a great many of those reftrictions and punctilious decorums, that oftentimes in nearer converfation prejudice truth, to fave good-breeding. I may now hear of my faults, and you of your good qualities, without a blush; we converfe upon fuch unfortunate generous terms, as exclude the regards of fear, fhame, or defign, in either of us. And, methinks, it would be as paultry a part, to impofe (even in a single thought) upon each other in this state of separation, as for fpirits of a different fphere, who have fo little intercourse with us, to employ that little (as fome would make

us

*Lady Montagu was at this time at Conftantinople. Pope has here fuppreffed part of the Letter, which may be feen in Dallaway's edition. The groffness of it will fufficiently explain Pope's meaning; and I have little doubt, but that the Lady, difdaining the stiff and formal mode of female manners at that time prevalent, made the Lover believe he might proceed a lep farther than decorum would allow. As the paffage'alluded to may be seen, the reader will perceive that here Pope has certainly exhibited, without difguife, (as he fays in the beginning of the Letter,) the "impartial reprefentation of a free heart." His pictures were indeed fo free, that he must have a strange opinion of her, if he could fuppofe fhe would not refent it.

us think they do) in putting tricks and delufions upon poor mortals.

my own

In what

Let me begin then, Madam, by asking you a queftion, that may enable me to judge better of conduct than most inftances of my life. manner did I behave in the last hour I faw you? What degree of concern did I discover, when I felt a miffortune, which, I hope, you will never feel, that of parting from what one most esteems? for if my parting looked but like that of your common acquaintance, I am the greatest of all the hypocrites that ever decency made.

I never fince pass by your house but with the fame fort of melancholy that we feel upon feeing the tomb of a friend, which only ferves to put us in mind of what we have loft. I reflect upon the circumstances of your departure, which I was there a witness of, (your behaviour in what I may call your last moments,) and I indulge a gloomy kind of pleasure in thinking that those last moments were given to me. I would fain imagine that this was not accidental, but proceeded from a penetration, which I know you have, in finding out the truth of people's fentiments; and that you are willing, the last man that would have parted from you, fhould be the last that did. I really looked upon you just as the friends of Curtius might have done upon that Hero, at the instant when he was devoting himself to glory, and running to be loft out of generofity: I was obliged to admire your refolution, in as

great

great a degree as I deplored it: and had only to wish, that Heaven would reward fo much virtue as was to be taken from us, with all the felicities it could enjoy elsewhere!

I am, etc.

I

LETTER XXI. *

letters. I am

your

CAN never have too many of angry at every fcrap of paper loft, and though it is but an odd compliment to compare a fine lady to a Sibyl, your leaves, methinks, like hers, are too good to be committed to the winds; though I have no other way of receiving them but by thofe unfaithful m ffengers. I have had but three, and I reckon that short one from D— which was rather a dying ejacula

tion than a letter.

You have contrived to say in your last the two things moft pleafing to me: the firft, that whatever be the fate of your letters, you will continue to write in the discharge of your confcience. The other is, the justice you do me, in taking what I write to you, in the ferious manner it was meant; it is the point upon which I can bear no fufpicion, and in which, above all, I defire to be thought ferious. It would be vex. atious indeed, if you fhould pretend to take that for wit, which is no more than the natural overflowing of a heart improved by an esteem for you; but fince you tell

*To the Same.