Mr. Gilchrist charges Mr. Bowles with “suggesting” that Pope “attempted” to commit “a rape” upon Lady M. Wortley Montague.  There are two reasons why this could not be true.  The first is, that like the chaste Letitia’s prevention of the intended ravishment by Fireblood (in Jonathan Wild), it might have been impeded by a timely compliance.  The second is, that however this might be, Pope was probably the less robust of the two; and (if the Lines on Sappho were really intended for this lady) the asserted consequences of her acquiescence in his wishes would have been a sufficient punishment.  The passage which Mr. Bowles quotes, however, insinuates nothing of the kind:  it merely charges her with encouragement, and him 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 malady of Collins, Cowper, Swift, and Smart; but it by no means follows that a partial affliction of this disorder is to terminate like theirs.  But even were it so,—­