thod are excellent; the judgments given by the writer acute and just.

_Pope_.--Are you not pleased with that philosophical freedom of thought
which discovers itself in all the works of Voltaire, but more
particularly in those of an historical nature?

_Boileau_.--If it were properly regulated, I should reckon it among their
highest perfections. Superstition, and bigotry, and party spirit are as
great enemies to the truth and candour of history as malice or adulation.
To think freely is therefore a most necessary quality in a perfect
historian. But all liberty has its bounds, which, in some of his
writings, Voltaire, I fear, has not observed. Would to Heaven he would
reflect, while it is yet in his power to correct what is faulty, that all
his works will outlive him; that many nations will read them; and that
the judgment pronounced here upon the writer himself will be according to
the scope and tendency of them, and to the extent of their good or evil
effects on the great society of mankind.

_Pope_.--It would be well for all Europe if some other wits of your
country, who give the tone to this age in all polite literature, had the
same serious thoughts you recommend to Voltaire. Witty writings, when
directed to serve the good ends of virtue and religion, are like the
lights hung out in a _pharos_, to guide the mariners safe through
dangerous seas; but the brightness of those that are impious or immoral
shines only to betray and lead men to destruction.

_Boileau_.--Has England been free from all seductions of this nature?

_Pope_.--No. But the French have the art of rendering vice and impiety
more agreeable than the English.

_Boileau_.--I am not very proud of this superiority in the talents of my
countrymen. But as I am told that the good sense of the English is now
admired in France, I hope it will soon convince both nations that true
wisdom is virtue, and true virtue is religion.

_Pope_.--I think it also to be wished that a taste for the frivolous may
not continue too prevalent among the French. There is a great difference
between gathering flowers at the foot of Parnassus and ascending the
arduous heights of the mountain. The palms and laurels grow there, and
if any of your countrymen aspire to gain them, they must no longer
enervate all the vigour of their minds by this habit of trifling. I
would have them be perpetual competitors with the English in manly wit
and substantial learning. But let the