with
wishing to profit by it,--a slight attempt at seduction, and no more.
The phrase is, "a step beyond decorum." Any physical violence is so
abhorrent to human nature, that it recoils in cold blood from the
very idea. But, the seduction of a woman's mind as well as person is
not, perhaps, the least heinous sin of the two in morality. Dr.
Johnson commends a gentleman who having seduced a girl who said, "I
am afraid we have done wrong," replied, "Yes, we _have_ done
wrong,"--"for I would not _pervert_ her mind also." Othello would not
"kill Desdemona's _soul_." Mr. Bowles exculpates himself from Mr.
Gilchrist's charge; but it is by substituting another charge against
Pope. "A step beyond decorum," has a soft sound, but what does it
express? In all these cases, "ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute."
Has not the Scripture something upon "the lusting after a woman"
being no less criminal than the crime? "A step beyond decorum," in
short, any step beyond the instep, is a step from a precipice to the
lady who permits it. For the gentleman who makes it it is also rather
hazardous if he does not succeed, and still more so if he does.

Mr. Bowles appeals to the "Christian reader!" upon this
"_Gilchristian_ criticism." Is not this play upon such words "a step
beyond decorum" in a clergyman? But I admit the temptation of a pun
to be irresistible.

But "a hasty pamphlet was published, in which some personalities
respecting Mr. Gilchrist were suffered to appear." If Mr. Bowles will
write "hasty pamphlets," why is he so surprised on receiving short
answers? The grand grievance to which he perpetually returns is a
charge of "_hypochondriacism_," asserted or insinuated in the
Quarterly. I cannot conceive a man in perfect health being much
affected by such a charge, because his complexion and conduct must
amply refute it. But were it true, to what does it amount?--to an
impeachment of a liver complaint. "I will tell it to the world,"
exclaimed the learned Smelfungus.--"You had better," said I, "tell it
to your physician." There is nothing dishonourable in such a
disorder, which is more peculiarly the malady of students. It has
been the complaint of the good, and the wise, and the witty, and even
of the gay. Regnard, the author of the last French comedy after
Moliere, was atrabilious; and Moliere himself, saturnine. Dr.
Johnson, Gray, and Burns, were all more or less affected by it
occasionally. It was the prelude to the more awful