jealous writers, of which number I could never reckon Mr. Hill, and most of whose names I did not know.

Upon this mistake you were too ready to attack me, in a paper of very pretty verses, in some public journal.---I should imagine the Dunciad meant you a real compliment, and so it has been thought by many, who have asked, to whom that passage made that oblique panegyric? As to the notes, I am weary of telling a great truth, which is, that I am not author of 'em; though I love truth so well, as fairly to tell you, Sir, I think even that note a commendation, and should think myself not ill used to have the same words said of me: therefore, believe me, I never was other than friendly to you, in my own mind.

Have I not much more reason to complain of The Caveat? Where give me leave, Sir, to tell you, with the same love of truth, and with the frankness it inspired (which, I hope, you will see, through this whole letter), I am falsely abused, in being represented "sneakingly to approve, and want the worth to cherish, or befriend men of merit." It is indeed, Sir, a very great error: I am sorry the author of that reflection knew me no better, and happened to be unknown to those who could have better informed him: for I have the charity to think, he was misled only by his ignorance of me, and the benevolence to forgive the worst thing that ever (in my opinion) was said of me, on that supposition.

I do faithfully assure you, I never was angry at any criticism, made on my poetry, by whomsoever : if I could do Mr. Dennis any humane office, I would,

though I were sure he would abuse me personally tomorrow; therefore it is no great merit in me, to find, at my heart, I am your servant. I am very sorry you ever was of another opinion.—I see, by many marks, you distinguished me from my cotemporary writers had we known one another, you had distinguished me from others, as a man, and no ill, or illnatured one. I only wish you knew, as well as I do, how much I prefer qualities of the heart to those of the head: I vow to God, I never thought any great matters of my poetical capacity: I only thought it a little better, comparatively, than that of some very mean writers, who are too proud. But, I do know certainly, my moral life is superior to that of most of the wits of these days. This is a silly letter, but it will shew you my mind honestly, and, I hope, convince you, I can be, and am, Sir,

Your, etc.

SIR,

LETTER XXV.

FROM MR. HILL TO MR. POPE.

January 28, 1730-1. YOUR answer, regarding no part of mine but the conclusion, you must pardon my compliment to the close of yours, in return; if I agree with you, that your letter is weaker, than one would have expected.

You assure me, that I did not know you so well, as I might, had I happened to be known to others, who could have instructed my ignorance; and I be

gin to find, indeed, that I was less acquainted with you, than I imagined: but your last letter has enlightened me, and I can never be in danger of mistaking you, for the future.

Your enemies have often told me, that your spleen was, at least, as distinguishable, as your genius: and it will be kinder, I think, to believe them, than impute to rudeness, or ill manners, the return you were pleased to make, for the civility, with which I addressed you.

I will, therefore, suppose you to have been peevish, or in pain, while you were writing me this letter: and upon that supposition, shall endeavour to undeceive you. If I did not love you, as a good man, while I esteem you, as a good writer, I should read you without reflection: and it were doing too much honour to your friends, and too little to my own discernment, to go to them for a character of your mind, which I was able enough to extract from your writings.

But to imitate your love of truth, with the frankness you have taught me, I wish the great qualities of your heart were as strong in you as the good ones: you would then have been above that emotion and bitterness, wherewith you remember things which want weight to deserve your anguish.

Since you were not the writer of the notes to the Dunciad, it would be impertinent to trouble you with the complaint I intended: I will only observe, that the author was in the right, to believe me capable of a second repentance: but, I hope, I was incapable of that second sin, which should have been previous to

his supposition. If the initial letters A. H. were not meant to stand for my name, yet, they were, everywhere, read so, as you might have seen in Mist's Journal, and other public papers; and I had shewn Mr. Pope an example, how reasonable I thought it to clear a mistake, publicly, which had been publicly propagated. One note, among so many, would have done me this justice and the generosity of such a proceeding could have left no room, for that offensive sneakingly, which, though, perhaps, too harsh a word, was the properest a man could chuse, who was satirizing an approbation, that he had never observed warm enough to declare itself to the world, but in defence of the great, or the popular.

Again, if the author of the notes knew, that A. H. related not to me, what reason had he to allude to that character, as mine, by observing, that I had published pieces bordering upon bombasta circumstance so independent on any other purpose of the note, that I should forget to whom I am writing, if I thought it wanted explanation.

As to your oblique panegyric, I am not under so blind an attachment to the goddess I was devoted to in the Dunciad, but that I knew it was a commendation; though a dirtier one than I wished for; who am, neither fond of some of the company, in which I was listed the noble reward, for which I was to become a diver ;-the allegoric muddiness, in which I was to try my skill;-nor the institutor of the games, you were so kind to allow me a share in.

Since, however, you could see, so clearly, that I ought to be satisfied with the praise, and forgive the

dirt it was mixed with, I am sorry, it seemed not as reasonable, that you should pardon me for returning your compliment, with more, and opener, praise, mixed with less of that dirtiness, which we have, both, the good taste to complain of.

The Caveat, Sir, was mine. It would have been ridiculous to suppose you ignorant of it: I cannot think, you need be told, that it meant you no harm; -and it had scorned to appear under the borrowed name it carries, but that the whimsical turn of the preface, would have made my own a contradiction. -I promise you, however, that for the future, I will publish nothing, without my name, that concerns you, or your writings. I have now, almost finished, An Essay on Propriety, and Impropriety, in Design, Thought, and Expression, illustrated, by Examples, in both Kinds, from the Writings of Mr. Pope; and, to convince you how much more pleasure it gives me, to distinguish your lights, than your shades;— and that I am as willing as I ought to be, to see, and acknowledge my faults; I am ready, with all my heart, to let it run thus, if it would, otherwise, create the least pain in you :-An Essay on Propriety, and Impropriety, etc. illustrated by Examples, of the first, from the Writings of Mr. Pope, and of the last, from those of the Author.

I am sorry to hear you say, you never thought any great matters of your poetry.-It is, in my opinion, the characteristic you are to hope your distinction from: to be honest is the duty of every plain man! Nor, since thesoul of poetry is sentiment, can a great poet want morality. But your honesty you possess in