have been found three appellations for the same thing,) for many very hard words, and very smart hits against myself—I offer no excuse:—my retaliation is in the spirit of English warfare—blows at one moment, and good humour the next.—As for Scotchmen, I am not quite sure that they have been yet able to expel from my breast the lurking kindness which it once bore towards them.—It is not an easy matter seriously to dislike, however ingeniously one may rail against, the country that has produced Burns, and Scott, and Campbell—a country too, by the way, with which you claim a connection, and of which the distinguished friend I
This is one reason why heroes now-a-days are made such poor creatures. Authors, a quiet set of people, rarely like to be personally mixed up with their own creations. For my own part, though I might have an especial cause of complaint in this incorporation, since I have never even drawn two heroes alike, but made each, Falkland, Pelham, Mordaunt, and Devereux, essentially different; yet I am perfectly willing, if it gives the good people the least pleasure, that my Critics should confound me with Pelham. Nay, if Pelham be at all what he was meant to be, viz. a practical satire on the exaggerated, and misanthropical romance of the day—a human being whose real good qualities put to shame the sickly sentimentalism of blue skies and bare throats, sombre coxcombries and interesting villanies; if he be at all like this, I am extremely proud to be mistaken for him. For though he is certainly a man who bathes and "lives cleanly," (two especial charges preferred against him by Messrs. the Great Unwashed,) yet he is also brave, generous, just; a true friend, an active citizen—perfect in accomplishments—unshakeable in principles!—What, is this my portrait—my fac-simile, Gentlemen?—Upon my word, I am extremely obliged to you. Pray go on!—I would not interrupt you for the world!
