YOU have not done me justice—read the memoirs I sent you properly before they are condemned:—what is any book if it be not read in that manner by which it may best be understood? A novel, whose merit lies chiefly in the story, should be quickly passed through; for the closer you can bring the several circumstances together, the better. If its merit consists in character and sentiment, it should be read much slower; for the least obvious parts of a character are frequently the most beautiful, and the propriety of a sentiment may easily escape in a hasty perusal. Detached thoughts ought to be dwelt on longer than any other manner of writing; for different subjects following close, do rather confound than instruct; but if we allowed ourselves time to reflect, we should understand the author and perhaps improve ourselves. Each thought should be considered as a text, upon which we ought to make a commentary.

Bayle’s manner of writing by text and note is generally decried, but without reason. When there is a necessity of proving the assertion by quotation, which was his case, no other way can be taken equally perspicuous. The authorities must be produced somewhere—they cannot be in the text, and if they are put at the end of the book, which is the modern fashion, how much more troublesome are they for referring to, than by being at the bottom of the page? The truth is, this is another instance of ignorance in the method of reading. Bayle, Harris, and other writers of this class, should have the text read first, which is quickly dispatched; then, begin again and take in the notes. By this means you preserve a connection, and judge of the proofs of what is asserted.

I might in other respects complain of your treating me rather unfairly; indeed, none judge less favourably of an author than his intimate friends——their personal knowledge of him as a man, destroys a hundred delusions to his advantage as an author.—“Who is a hero to his Valet de Chambre?” said the great CondÉ, and he might have added, “or to his friends?” Besides the obvious reason for this, it is most likely that an author has in his common conversation made his friends acquainted with his sentiments long before they are communicated to the public. The consequence is, that to them his work is not new; and it is possible that they may take to themselves part of his merit; for I have known many instances, where a person has been told something by way of information, which he himself told to the informer.

I know you will take this to yourself.—Do so, but still think me

Yours, &c.