But, they fay, the fatire is perfonal. I thought it could not be fo, because all its reflections are on things. His reflections are not on the man, but his house, gardens, etc. Nay, he refpects (as one may fay) the perfons of the Gladiator, the Nile, and the Triton he is only forry to see them (as he might be to fee any of his friends) ridiculous by being in the wrong place, and in bad company. Some fancy, that to fay a thing is perfonal, is the fame as to fay it is unjuft, not confidering, that nothing can be just that is not perfonal. I am afraid that "all fuch writings "and difcourfes as touch no man, will mend no "man." The good-natured, indeed, are apt to be alarmed at any thing like fatire; and the guilty readily concur with the weak for a plain reafon, because the vicious look upon folly as their frontier:

Jam proximus ardet

Ucalegon.

No wonder those who know ridicule belongs to them, find an inward confolation in moving it from themfelves as far as they can; and it is never fo far, as when they can get it fixed on the best characters. No wonder those who are Food for Satirists should rail at them as creatures of prey; every beast born for our ufe would be ready to call a man fo.

I know no remedy, unless people in our age would as little frequent the theatres, as they begin to do the churches; unless comedy were forsaken, fatire filent, and every man left to do what seems good in his own

eyes, as if there were no King, no Priest, no Poet, in Ifrael.

But I find myself obliged to touch a point, on which I must be more ferious; it well deferves I fhould I mean the malicious application of the character of Timon, which, I will boldly fay, they would impute to the person the most different in the world from a Man-hater, to the person whose taste and encouragement of wit have often been fhown in the rightest place. The author of that epistle must cer tainly think so, if he has the fame opinion of his own merit as authors generally have; for he has been diftinguished by this very person.

Why, in God's name, must a Portrait, apparently collected from twenty different men, be applied to one only? Has it his eye? no, it is very unlike. Has it his nose or mouth? no, they are totally differing. What then, I beseech you? Why, it has the mole on his chin. Very well; but must the picture therefore be his, and has no other man that blemish?

Could there be a more melancholy instance how much the taste of the public is vitiated, and turns the most falutary and seasonable phyfic into poison, than if amidst the blaze of a thoufand bright qualities in a great man, they fhould only remark there is a fhadow about him; as what eminence is without? I am confident the author was incapable of imputing any fuch to one, whofe whole life (to use his own expreffion in print of him) is a continued feries of good and generous actions.

I know no man who would be more concerned, if

he gave the least pain or offence to any innocent per fon; and none who would be lefs concerned, if the satire 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,

THE

March 7, 1731.

clamour raised about my -Epiftle to you could not give me fo much pain, as I received pleasure in feeing 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 deserved 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 deferved more candour, 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, villanous. Yet I had no great caufe to wonder, that a character belonging to twenty fhould be applied

VOL. VIII.

plied to one; fince, by that means, nineteen would escape 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 a concern for the Injury done to me, while his greatness of mind can bear with indifference the infult offered to himself.

However, my Lord, I own, that critics of this fort can intimidate me, nay half incline me to write no more that would be making the Town a compli ment which, I think, it deserves; and which fome, I am fure, would take very kindly. This way of Satire is dangerous, as long as flander raised by fools of the lowest rank, can find any countenance from those of a higher. Even from the conduct fhewn on this occafion, I have learnt there are fome 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

• Alludes to the letter the Duke of Chandos wrote to Mr. Pope on this occasion. P.

fubject from their pride to their meannefs, from their vanities to their miseries; and, as the only certain way to avoid misconstructions, to lessen offence, and not to multiply ill-natured applications, I may probably, in my next, make use of real names inftead of fictitious I am,

ones.

My Lord,

Your most affectionate, etc.

LETTER XXVII.

Cirencefter.

IT

T is a true faying, that misfortunes alone prove one's friendship; they fhew 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 ufually got the better of my tenderneffes and affections. I fet out with a heavy heart, wifhing I had done this thing the last season: 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 fhould it happen while I am away). And another reflection.

P To Mrs. B.

pains

W.