Newbury-Port.
I AM disappointed and displeased, Cleora!
I have long been anxious to procure the Marchioness
de Sevignè's letters, having often heard
them mentioned as standards of taste and elegance
in the epistolary way. This excited my
curiosity, and raised my hopes of finding a rich
entertainment of wit and sentiment. I have
perused, and perused in vain; for they answer
not my ideas of either. They are replete with
local circumstances, which, to indifferent readers,
are neither amusing nor interesting. True,
the style is easy and sprightly; but they are
chiefly composed of family matters, such as relate
to her own movements and those of her
daughter; many of which are of too trifling a
nature to be ranked in the class of elegant writing.
I own myself, however, not a competent
judge of their merit as a whole, even in my own
estimation; for I have read the two first volumes
only.
That letters ought to be written with the familiarity
of personal conversation, I allow; yet
many such conversations, even between persons
of taste and refinement, are unworthy the public
attention.
Equal was my chagrin, not long since, on
reading Pope's letters. He, said I to myself,
who bears the palm from all contemporary poets,
and who is so consummate a master of this
divine art, must surely furnish a source of superior
entertainment, when he descends to friendly
and social communications.
Indeed, there are good sentiments and judicious
observations, interspersed in his letters;
but the greater part of them have little other
merit than what arises from the style.
Perhaps you will charge me with arrogance,
for presuming to criticise, much more to condemn,
publications which have so long been sanctioned
by general approbation. Independent in
opinion, I write it without reserve, and censure
not any one who thinks differently. Give me
your sentiments with the same freedom upon the
books which you honor with a perusal, and you
will oblige your affectionate