nts of strong
animal spirits, and all that innocent egotism which became frequently
a source of his own raillery.[215] He has applied to himself the
epithet "impenetrable," which was probably in the mind of Johnson when
he noticed his "impenetrable impudence." A critic has charged him with
"effrontery."[216] Critics are apt to admit too much of traditional
opinion into their own; it is necessary sometimes to correct the
knowledge we receive. For my part, I can almost believe that
Cibber was a _modest man_![217] as he was most certainly a man of
genius. Cibber had lived a dissipated life, and his philosophical
indifference, with his careless gaiety, was the breastplate which
even the wit of Pope failed to pierce. During twenty years'
persecution for his unlucky Odes, he never lost his temper; he
would read to his friends the best things pointed against them,
with all the spirit the authors could wish; and would himself
write epigrams for the pleasure of hearing them repeated while
sitting in coffee-houses; and whenever they were applauded as
"Palpable hits!"--"Keen!"--"Things with a spirit in them!"--he
enjoyed these attacks on himself by himself.[218] If this be vanity,
it is at least "_Cibberian_."

It was, indeed, the singularity of his personal character which so
long injured his genius, and laid him open to the perpetual attacks of
his contemporaries,[219] who were mean enough to ridicule undisguised
foibles, but dared not be just to the redeeming virtues of his genius.
Yet his genius far exceeded his literary frailties. He knew he was no
poet, yet he would string wretched rhymes, even when not salaried for
them; and once wrote an Essay on Cicero's character, for which his
dotage was scarcely an apology;--so much he preferred amusement to
prudence.[220] Another foible was to act tragedies with a squeaking
voice[221], and to write them with a genius about the same size for
the sublime; but the malice of his contemporaries seemed to forget
that he was creating new dramatic existences in the exquisite
personifications of his comic characters; and was producing some of
our standard comedies, composed with such real genius, that they still
support the reputation of the English stage.

In the "Apology for his Life," Cibber had shown himself a generous
and an ill-treated adversary, and at all times was prodigal of his
eulogiums, even after the death of Pope; but, when remonstrance and
good temper failed to sheathe with