it run
thus:--"An Essay on Propriety and Impropriety, &c., illustrated by
Examples of the first, from the writings of Mr. Pope, and of the
rest, from those of the author."--To the romantic generosity of this
extraordinary proposal, Pope replied, "I acknowledge your generous
offer, to give _examples of imperfections_ rather out of _your own
works_ than mine: I consent, with all my heart, to your confining them
to _mine_, for two reasons: the one, that I fear your sensibility
that way is greater than my own: the other is a better; namely,
that I intend to correct the faults you find, if they are such as I
expect from Mr. Hill's cool judgment."[207]

Where, in literary history, can be found the parallel of such an offer
of self-immolation? This was a literary quarrel like that of lovers,
where to hurt each other would have given pain to both parties. Such
skill and desire to strike, with so much tenderness in inflicting a
wound; so much compliment, with so much complaint; have perhaps never
met together, as in the romantic hostility of this literary chivalry.

FOOTNOTES:

[192] Pope collected these numerous literary libels with extraordinary
care. He had them bound in volumes of all sizes; and a range
of twelves, octavos, quartos, and folios were marshalled in
portentous order on his shelves. He wrote the names of the
writers, with remarks on these _Anonymiana_. He prefixed to
them this motto, from Job: "Behold, my desire is, that mine
adversary had written a book: surely I would take it upon my
shoulder, and bind it as a crown to me." xxxi. 35. Ruffhead,
who wrote Pope's Life under the eye of Warburton, who revised
every sheet of the volume, and suffered this mere lawyer and
singularly wretched critic to write on, with far inferior
taste to his own--offered "the entire collection to any public
library or museum, whose search is after _curiosities_, and
may be desirous of enriching their common treasure with it: it
will be freely at the service of that which asks first." Did
no one accept the invitation? As this was written in 1769, it
is evidently pointed towards the British Museum; but there I
have not heard of it. This collection must have contained much
of the Secret Memoirs of Grub-street: it was always a fountain
whence those "waters of bitterness," the notes i