me, how cordially you have advised me! In conver fation, in ftudy, I fhall always want you, and wish for you: in my most lively, and in my moft thoughful hours, I fhall equally bear about me the impreffions of you: and perhaps it will not be in this life only, that I fhall have caufe to remember and acknowledge the friendship of the Bishop of Rochefter. &c.

I am,

ON

LETTER XXIII.

To the fame.

May 17, 1723.

NCE more I write to you, as I promifed, and this once, I fear, will be the last! The curtain will foon be drawn between my friend and me, and nothing left but to wifh you a long goodnight. May you enjoy a ftate of repofe in this life, not unlike that fleep of the foul which fome have believed is to fucceed it, where we lie utterly forgetful of that world from which we are gone, and ripening for that to which we are to go. If you retain any memory of the paft, let it only image to you what has pleafed you beft; fometimes prefent a dream of an abfent friend, or bring you back on agreeable converfation. But, upon the whole, I hope you will think lefs of the time paft than of the future; as the former has been less kind to you than the latter infallibly will be. Do

not envy the world your ftudies; they will tend to the benefit of men against whom you can have no complaint, I mean of all pofterity; and perhaps, at your time of life, nothing elfe is worth

your care.

What is every year of a wife man's life, but a cenfure or critic on the past? Those whofe date is the fhorteft, live long enough to laugh at one half of it: The boy delpifes the infant, the man the boy, the philofopher both, and the Chriftian all. You may now begin to think your manhood was too much a puerility; and you will never fuffer your age to be but a fecond infancy. The toys and baubles of your childhood are hardly now more below you, than those toys of our riper and of our declining years, the drums and rattles of Ambition, and the dirt and bubbles of Avarice. At this time, when you are cut off from a little fociety, and made a citizen of the world at large, you should bend your talents not to ferve a party, or a few, but all mankind. Your genius fhould mount above that mift in which its participation and neighbourhood with earth long invol ved it. To fhine abroad and to heaven, ought to be the business, and the glory of your prefent fituation. Remember it was at fuch a time, that the greatest lights of antiquity dazzled and blazed the most, in their retreat, in their exile, or in their death. But why do I talk of dazzling or blazing? it was then that they did good, that they gave light, and that they became guides to mankind.

Thofe aims alone are worthy of fpirits truly great, and fuch I therefore hope will be yours. Refentment indeed may remain, perhaps cannot be quite extinguished, in the nobleft minds; but ReVOL. VII.

I

venge

venge never will harbour there: Higher principles than thofe of the first, and better principles than those of the latter, will infallibly influence men, whose thoughts and whofe hearts are enlarged, and caufe them to prefer the whole to any part of mankind, especially to fo fmall a part as one's fingle felf.

Believe me, my Lord, I look upon you as a fpirit entered into another life *, as one juft upon the edge of immortality; where the paffions and affections must be much more exalted, and where you ought to defpife all little views, and all mean retrofpects Nothing is worth your looking back; and therefore look forward, and make (as you can) the world look after you. But take care that it be not with pity, but with esteem and admiration.

A

1 am with the greatest fincerity, and paffion for your fame as well as happiness,

Your, &c.

*The Bishop of Rochefter went into exile the month following, and continued in it till his death, which happened at Paris, on the 15th day of February, in the year 1732.

Notwithstanding this, Mr Pope was convinced, before the Bishop's death, that, during his banishment, he was in the intrigues of the Pretender: though, when he took his laft leave of Mr Pope, he told him, he would allow him to fay his fentence was juft, if he ever found he had any concerns with that family in his exile.

LET

You

Paris, Nov. 23, 1731.

will wonder to fee me in print; but how could I avoid it? The dead and the living, my friends and my foes, at home and abroad, called upon me to fay fomething; and the reputation of an hiftory* which I and all the world value, muft have fuffered, had I continued filent. I have printed it here, in hopes that fomebody may venture to reprint it in England, notwithstanding thofe two frightening words at the close of it t Whether that happens or not, it is fit you fhould

have

a fight of it, who, I know, will read it with fome degree of fatisfaction, as it is mine, though it fhould have (as it really has) nothing elfe to recommend it. Such as it is, Extremum hoc munus morientis habeto: for that may well be the cafe, confidering that within a few months I am entering into my feventieth year; after which, even the healthy and the happy cannot much depend upon life, and will not, if they are wife, much defire it. Whenever I go, you will lofe a friend who loves and values you extremely, if in

*Earl of Clarendon's.

in my

cir

+ The Bishop's name, fet to his vindication of Bishop Smalridge, Dr Aldrich, and himself, from the fcandalous. reflections of Oldmixon, relating to the publication of Lord Clarendon's hiftory. Paris, 1731, 4to, fince reprinted in England.

cumftançes I can be faid to be loft to any one, when dead, more than I am already whilft living. I expected to have heard from you by Mr Morice, and wondered a little that I did not; but he owns himself in a fault, for not giving you due notice of his motions. It was not amifs that you forbore writing, on a head wherein I promised more than I was able to perform. Difgraced men fancy fometimes, that they preferve an influence, where when they endeavour to exert it, they foon fee their mistake. I did fo, my good friend, and acknowledge it under my hand. You founded the coast, and found cut my error, it seems, before I was aware of it. But enough on this subject.

What are they doing in England to the honour of letters? and particularly what are you doing? Ipfe quid audes? quæ circumvolitas agilis thyma? Do you purfue the moral plan you marked out, and feemed fixteen months ago fo intent upon? Am I to fee it perfected ere I die, and are you to enjoy the reputation of it while you live? or do you rather chufe to leave the marks of your friendship, like the legacies of a will, to be read and enjoyed only by thofe who furvive you? Were I as near you as I have been, I should hope to peep into the manufcript before it was finished. But alas there is, and will ever probably be a great deal of land and fea between us. How many books have come out of late in your parts, which you think I fhould be glad to perufe? Name them. The catalogue, I believe, will not coft you much trouble. They must be good ones indeed to challenge any part of my time, now I have fo little of it left. I, who fquandered whole

days