Defects. 'Tis true, that you are esteemed at. this high rate, you owe to your Wit and your Penetration; but that you are esteemed without Envy, that you are with Joy and Gladness efteemed, you owe to this, that while the Force of your Fancy and Judgment makes all the World admire you, you remain yourself unmoved by it; that while your Excellence fills all Mouths but yours, you alone appear to be unacquainted with it. Thus, while by the Merit of your extraordinary Qualities, you are known to furpass all others, it plainly appears, that you have beyond all this a Greatnefs of Soul, from whence you look down on your own Merit: an infallible Sign, that the Talents which we admire in you, are no Illufions but real Things, Things that were born with you, and have been improved by you, and which you have not acquired: for Men are found to be vainer, upon the Account of those Qualities which they fondly believe they have, than of those which they really have; and hereditary Greatness gives Men leave to be humble, whereas Preferment occafions Pride. None but fuch real Greatnefs as yours, can capacitate a Man to be truly humble; for the Soul, which by Nature is not feated high, can hardly be faid to defcend. If I have infifted too long on this fhining Subject, a Subject which is fo confpicuous in you; if you look upon this tedious Letter, as one of those various Profecutions which every eminent Virtue provokes; I defire you to confider that I have fo many Obligations to this very Humility, that I looked upon myself, as obliged by Gratitude, to fay as much as I have done. For to that I owe the Happiness which I have frequently received in your Converfation, 5 to to that I owe the prefent Satisfaction, which your Premiffion to write to you gives me; and to that I am indebted for the Hopes of your Answers: when I have received them I fhall then believe what you were pleased to tell me when I faw you laft, that you are much more humble in the clear Air on your Mountain at Cleve, than when you are in a Fog and fulphurous Smoak in Bow-ftreet. But, at the fame time, the Satisfaction of thinking, that Distance does not make you forget me, will render him very proud, who is at present, Sir, your very humble Servant, JOHN DENNIS, LETTER Dear Sir, You LXXVII. Wycherley to Dennis. OU have found a Way to make me fatisfy'd with my Absence from London; nay what is more with the Distance which is now betwixt you and me. That, indeed, ufes to leffen Friendfhip, but gives me the greater Mark of yours, by your kind Letter, which I had miffed if I had been nearer to you: fo that I, who receive no Rents here, yet muft own, if I did, I could not receive greater Satisfaction than I had from yours, worth even a Letter of Exchange, or Letters Patent; for I value your Friendhip more than Money, and am prouder of your Approbation, than I fhould be of Titles: for the having a good Opinion of one who knows Mankind fo well, well, argues fome Merit in me, upon which every Man ought to confider himfelf more than upon the Goods of Fortune. I had rather be thought your Friend in Proof of my Judgment and good Senfe, than a Friend to the Mufes ; and had rather have you than them thought mine. If I am, as you fay, at once proud and humble, 'tis fince I have known I have had the Honour to please you; tho' your Praise rather humbles than makes me (tho' a damn'd Poet) more vain: for it is fo great, that it rather seems the Raillery of a witty Man, than the Sincerity of a Friend; and rather proves the Copioufnels. of your own Invention, than juftifies the Fertility of mine. But I fear I am forfeiting the Character of the Plain-Dealer with you; and feem, like vain Women or vainer Men, to refufe Praife, but to get more; and fo by returning your Compliments, fhew myself grateful out of Intereft, as Knaves are punctual in some Payments, but to augment their Credit. And for your Praise of my Humility (the only Mark of my Knowledge, fince it is a Mark of my know ing myself) you have praised that to its Deftruc tion, and have given me fo much, you have left me none; like thofe Admirers, who praife a young Maid's Modefty till they deprive her of it. But let me tell you, 'tis not to my Humility that you owe my Friendship, but to my Ambition, fince I can have no greater than to be efteemed by you, and the World, your Friend, and to be known to all Mankind for, Dear Sir, your humble Servant, W. WYCHERLEY, LETTER LXXVIII. Dennis to Wycherley. Dear Sir, NOT OT long after I writ my last to you, I was hurried up to Town by a kind of a Cholic, which was ended in a Defluxion upon one of my Feet. You know, Sir, a Defluxion is a general Name which fome pleafant Frenchmen have given an infant Gout too young to be yet baptiz'd. But tho' the Distemper raged in each Hand, I would in fpite of it anfwer your admirable Letter; a Letter which I had certainly known to be yours, tho' it had been fent me without a Name, nay, and tranfcribed by a Chancery-Clerk in his own hideous manner of Copying. But I must confefs I was furprised to hear you say in it, that you took the Sincerity of a Man who fo much efteems you, for Raillery; yet tho' you declare it, you can never believe it. I am willing to believe you exceeding humble i but you can never be humble to that degree, unless your Mind, which refembles your Eye in its Clearnefs, its Liveliness, and in its piercing Views, should be alfo like it in this, that plainly difcerning all Things elfe, it wants a Sight of itfelf: but in this it does not resemble it; for it beholds itself by Reflections, and, like a lovely Maid at her Glafs, is charmed with the Sight of its own Beauty. This is a Sight in which you take Pride as well as Pleafure; but yours, I muft confefs, is a guiltlefs Pride, it being nothing but firft Motion, which it is impoffible for Man to avoid. You have both the Force to fubdue it imme→ immediately, and the Art and Goodness to conceal it from us. That it plainly appears from what I have faid, that you do not believe I had any Defign to rally you, I am confident, that through all my Letter there appears an Air of Sincerity. But that is a Virtue which has been fo long and fo peculiarly your's, that you may perhaps be jealous of it in your Friends, and difclaim fome Virtues which they commend in you, only to monopolize that. You had given me at leaft an Occafion to think fo, if the Raillery in yours had not been fo very apparent, that even I had Eyes to difcern that you have been to blame in it, tho' I am doubly blinded with Love of you and myself. Yet if you writ it with a Defign to mortify me, affure yourself, that I fhall fortify my Vanity with that very Artillery with which you have begun to attack it. If Mr. Wycherley rallies me, it is certain, that I have my Defects; but it is full as certain, that he would never condefcend to abufe me at fuch a Distance if he wholly defpis'd me. Thus, Sir, you see I am as reasonable with my Friend, as a Ruffian Spouse is with her Husband, and take his very Raillery for a Mark of Efteem, as fhe does a Beating for a Proof of Affection. The very worst of your Qualities gain our Affections: even your Jealouly is very obliging, which it could never be unlefs it were very groundless. But fince your very Sufpicion is obliging, what Influence must your Kindnefs have on our Souls? The Wifh that I were with you in fome Retirement, is engaging to that degree, that I almost repent that I fo eagerly defired your Conversation before; for if it were poffible, I would augment that Defire, as a grateful Return to yours. To be with you in Soli tude |